Written By Wylla
July 5, 2020, 5:54 p.m.(8/8/1013 AR)
If it's an issue too delicate to put to ink, you'll find me at the Shrine of Jayus with a pot of tea already steeping and paints at the ready.
Written By Delilah
July 5, 2020, 4:44 p.m.(8/8/1013 AR)
Written By Kiera
July 5, 2020, 3:29 p.m.(8/8/1013 AR)
Written By Kiera
July 5, 2020, 3:18 p.m.(8/8/1013 AR)
Written By Kiera
July 5, 2020, 2:55 p.m.(8/8/1013 AR)
Written By Valencia
July 5, 2020, 1:35 p.m.(8/8/1013 AR)
I very much look forward to recognizing the kind donations of Lord Alban Farshaw, Lady Amieli Igniseri, Lady Braelynn Deepwood on behalf of House Deepwood, Prince Dimitri Velenosa, Baroness Lucita Saik, Lady Piccola Tessere on behalf of of House Tessere and our other generous donors who wished to remain anonymous at this time.
Thanks to their generosity our Hart can continue to work hard to raise spirits, silver and support so that all in our realm may grow and thrive.
To be true, good people like these who give without hesitation to my Hart humbled and heartened me. To see how much can be achieved when we work together will never stop to amaze and inspire me. It is so vital to our realm's success regardless of efforts or cause.
Again, my heart goes to all of our generous supporters -- past, present and future. You are beautiful reminders of hope in an oft empty and dark sky.
Written By Reve
July 5, 2020, 1:31 p.m.(8/8/1013 AR)
Relationship Note on Nurie
Written By Azova
July 5, 2020, 1:28 p.m.(8/8/1013 AR)
Thank you, sister. I am certain it will make an impression!
Written By Reve
July 5, 2020, 11:48 a.m.(8/8/1013 AR)
Relationship Note on Sabine
What a magnificent ceremony that was. I must however correct you on one pertinent detail for the records.
Like some common creature? Never. It was my gift to you, to speak out against all etiquette and sense, and blatantly ensure you knew that I stood with you on your fine day.
Written By Valda
July 5, 2020, 10:50 a.m.(8/7/1013 AR)
Written By Sabine
July 5, 2020, 6:03 a.m.(8/7/1013 AR)
They are the jewels of our March, these caravels, the physical manifestation of our dreams. Here I record my gratitude to my husband for the first two, and the Archduchess-Regent and her Voices for the last. Velenosa is not only liege, and ally, but friend and in this friendship, we will all profit. In land, in wealth, in prestige. With these three, we will lay claim to history; we will return and restore what was once lost; we will return light and life to darkness and ruin.
Written By Charis
July 5, 2020, 5:33 a.m.(8/7/1013 AR)
Written By Dariel
July 5, 2020, 4:12 a.m.(8/7/1013 AR)
Villains are enjoyably to play, especially when I give them a depth. Though hopefully that doesn't make them exactly likeable.
Written By Aconite
July 5, 2020, 1:30 a.m.(8/7/1013 AR)
Written By Drake
July 5, 2020, 12:59 a.m.(8/7/1013 AR)
Going to take some getting used to Wyvernheart, but I absolutely trust Richard's leadership as the new Count.
Very proud of what we've accomplished.
Written By Jaenelle
July 5, 2020, 12:22 a.m.(8/7/1013 AR)
Written By Bahiya
July 4, 2020, 11:23 p.m.(8/7/1013 AR)
Written By Dio
July 4, 2020, 9:26 p.m.(8/6/1013 AR)
Written By Lydia
July 4, 2020, 9:09 p.m.(8/6/1013 AR)
[Lydia] At the cake table, Lydia carefully sizes up her target. She rubs her chin as she looks down upon it. She crouches table-side to observe it layer-on. Nodding to herself she picks up a huge double-headed axe, struggles briefly with its weight, then brings it down upon her cake broad-side. Pieces of cake fly everywhere. Like shrapnel, taking out many nearby the table. A good portion of cake splats against Lydia's face and slides down her décolletage. Satisfied the cake is in at least 4 pieces, Lydia moves on.
Lydia rushes the line of dinghies, hopping one, two, three. It is on the forth that her toe catches the rim of a dinghy and spinning heels-over-head into the drink she goes. Some of the cake is tossed from her body by centrifugal forces, the rest spreads about her in the water to feed the fishes.
Climbing out of the ocean, her silk dress is stuck to her body. The Shark Fishing is pure luck. But it helps to read the rules before rushing in. Crossing her fingers and adding please, not a shark, not a shark, she casts her lure. Of course she gets a shark! Exactly what she didn't want! She turns it in with an adorable pout.
It is at the Kraken's Pass that all hope of getting the salt water out of silk goes out the window. Cloth drenched in oil slap at her body, ripping holy terror out of the silk, but she dances her way along. She almost seems to enjoy the tentacles having their way with her body, using each blow to spin herself along the plank. That is, until the dog-headed whale knocks her right in the back of the skull. She tumbles from the plank, a sickening thud upon the sea. It is a few moments before she can be seen climbing up the side of the next ship waving, looking like she's shouting "I'm okay, I'm okay" over her shoulder. But it might just be "ow that hurt", it's hard to tell.
Talk about a wardrobe malfunction, the torn neckline of her dress is more open, significantly lower than when she started. Her dress has lots of slits now to show off her graceful legs. She races toward the foremast, oily feet sometimes slipping on the teak deck, but she keeps her feet and climbs the rigging. She claims jewels, dangling bottles of perfume, anything she can toss about her neck and keep moving. From the foresail line she tucks a stuffed kraken under one arm. At the end, she snags a couple strips of fabric and tosses them over a descending line, holding both ends. If there are cries of "are you crazy" from the crowd she doesn't hear them. She slides down the line like a... um... like anything but a pro, crying out in delight.. um.. or maybe abject terror as gravity adds to her momentum. Her prize necklaces flail about her neck, beads and perfume and ribbons in wild chaos. But through it all she hangs on to her kraken and delivers him, and by some miracle every gathered prize safely to the deck.
Oh no, the dinghies again. With more care, she tries to make her way across, but after everything she's already beyond the limits of her stamina. She takes a graceful stumble and hits the water back-side first. Holding her stuffed Kraken above her head and out of the wet, she slowly returns to shore.
Climbing the sands, she simply plants one bare foot after another, non-stop. It is at the tree she catches her breath, and picks up the Conch shell. She shouts out aloud, "Bless you, Mangata, Goddess of sea and breeze, for all those who keep their composure as they face adversity. She presses her lips to the shell and blows a single, pristine note, clear and loud, as if the Goddess answers her in its tone. And, satisfied, she saunters her way off the gauntlet, drenched, bedraggled, and clothed in silken shreds that by some miracle give her a last remaining modicum of modesty. Nothing can take away her dignity.
(OOC) TL;DR Don't. I survived. I had way too much fun writing this and I'm very very sorry.
Written By Piccola
July 4, 2020, 7:30 p.m.(8/6/1013 AR)
Relationship Note on Magnus
War is the true nurse of a noble's self-aggrandizement. For a nation in war: an army is to be created and directed by its lord's will; the public treasures are unlocked and used by its lord's will; the honors and emoluments of office are multiplied and subject to its lord's will; and the patronage and spoils for the victorious are reaped and enjoyed at its lord's will. In war, by our praise and beliefs, laurels are gathered and bestowed to whom prevails. And so, it is obvious that the strongest passions and most dangerous weaknesses -- ambition, avarice, vanity, pride -- are all in conspiracy against the desire and duty of peace.
When the sword is once drawn, the passions of men and woman observe no bounds of moderation. Any suggestion of wounded pride or instigation of resentment will carry a nation to any extremes necessary to avenge the affront or to avoid the disgrace of submission. For those in the Compact who bend to the Thirteen's traditions is there a fragile peace in the form of honorable resolution, but outside of the same boundaries there is no such satisfaction. And for so long as there are those who will not follow such paths the art of war shall always be an important element of statesmanship, one that is often forgotten in the intrigues of politics in peace-time.
Peace or war will not always be left to our option, and however moderate or unambitious we may be, we cannot count upon the moderation, or hope to extinguish the ambition, of others.
Please note that the scholars may take some time preparing your journal for others to read.