Written By Duarte
Jan. 26, 2024, 5:58 a.m.(8/16/1021 AR)
Journal
It was several days' ride to the place mentioned on the map. Luis Igniseri attended myself, Rinel, Lady Olivia Ashford, and Violet. Olivia, Violet and myself, of course, covered our blighted flesh for the journey. We had grown quite used to it. And we had grown used to the rations of broth and tea concoctions for sustenance, as well.
North of Greenhaven was a ruined temple. A young shardhaven, by my estimation, but familiar to me from my vision in the Shrine of Vellichor nearly three years prior. We were nearly two years since our affliction took root - literally - in the pits of stomachs. A sense of dread suffused the land around the temple. The growth of nature about started to darken. Odors of forest shifted to the stench of a marsh. There was something hateful and parasitic about the trees and vines. It all looked lush, and yet fetid. I wanted to go back, but Rinel goaded me forward.
The door into the temple was rotted and decayed and held in place by the same blighted vines that seemed to line the forest floor itself.
Again, our instincts told us to pray. And so pray we did. And like last time, the mention of Petrichor sparked something within the land itself that shot anger into our hearts.
My companions, I must admit, were more steadfast than I. The searing hatred I could not stand and I sought to make Rinel stop. But she was relentless in her devotions, as were Luis, Olivia and Violet. Eventually, the prayer ceased and the grip of resentment lessened in my breast. But Rinel was stubborn in her insistence that I lurch forward - she rapped me with her cane. Several times. To impel me deeper into this ruined and blighted locale.
The voices came and they were deceitful and strong. They turned my ire against my party. There, in a once lovely antechamber that was now stranged by that same lush-yet-putrid overgrowth - Violet and Rinel once again began their canticles. And it broke me.
Sullen and full of hate, we moved to an abandoned storeroom where mold, mushrooms and rot grew in the walls. It smelt of decayed flesh of the half-eaten animal carcasses strewn across the floor. From there we came to a room of animal pens, clearly in some recent use as droppings were underfoot. A large raccoon appears and seemed to share a strange kinship with myself and Olivia - so, of course, I ordered Luis to kill it. It was an ill-fated ask as he split the rodent shard in half sending its innards in a collision course for my face. It took weeks to get the taste out of my mouth.
But soon enough, in an antechamber of warrens, Rinel was literally getting the taste out of her mouth. She had been our anchor - inexplicably resonating with Faith - up to the point she started retching and puking up blood in that very room. At once and immediately the hatred poured back into my heart and my mind, and Violet's as well. Somehow, it was stayed. It was stayed by devotions uttered to Petrichor. Words the shardhaven did not want to hear. It shook immensely - like Halfway House had done - and collapsed a wall to reveal a library. And then, I felt the touch again - as I had once before, years before. The presence of Vellichor. It pushed me to the wall where a faint outline indicated a stowage space. Pressing this, we unearthed several pages long hidden away by Azazel. Many of them rotted and crumbled to dust, but many remain in tact.
And nearly as suddenly as I was stricken by insight, I was plagued by hatred. Extreme and leeching, it festered in my very soul. The knowledge I sought became like a ward, and I was the demon. I backed away frightened and vengeful. "NO! Leave it alone!" I demanded of Violet. I drew my sword.
I - me, Duarte Amadeo - drew my sword against Violet Farwatch. And then a taunted Olivia withs its blade. "Leave it be," I ordered in as fierce a way I could become. I even waggled it at Luis. And then, I touched it to Rinel's bad leg and threatened to amputate it on the spot - promising to finish the job the highway men that took her beloved Wynna had begun.
It was several days' ride to the place mentioned on the map. Luis Igniseri attended myself, Rinel, Lady Olivia Ashford, and Violet. Olivia, Violet and myself, of course, covered our blighted flesh for the journey. We had grown quite used to it. And we had grown used to the rations of broth and tea concoctions for sustenance, as well.
North of Greenhaven was a ruined temple. A young shardhaven, by my estimation, but familiar to me from my vision in the Shrine of Vellichor nearly three years prior. We were nearly two years since our affliction took root - literally - in the pits of stomachs. A sense of dread suffused the land around the temple. The growth of nature about started to darken. Odors of forest shifted to the stench of a marsh. There was something hateful and parasitic about the trees and vines. It all looked lush, and yet fetid. I wanted to go back, but Rinel goaded me forward.
The door into the temple was rotted and decayed and held in place by the same blighted vines that seemed to line the forest floor itself.
Again, our instincts told us to pray. And so pray we did. And like last time, the mention of Petrichor sparked something within the land itself that shot anger into our hearts.
My companions, I must admit, were more steadfast than I. The searing hatred I could not stand and I sought to make Rinel stop. But she was relentless in her devotions, as were Luis, Olivia and Violet. Eventually, the prayer ceased and the grip of resentment lessened in my breast. But Rinel was stubborn in her insistence that I lurch forward - she rapped me with her cane. Several times. To impel me deeper into this ruined and blighted locale.
The voices came and they were deceitful and strong. They turned my ire against my party. There, in a once lovely antechamber that was now stranged by that same lush-yet-putrid overgrowth - Violet and Rinel once again began their canticles. And it broke me.
Sullen and full of hate, we moved to an abandoned storeroom where mold, mushrooms and rot grew in the walls. It smelt of decayed flesh of the half-eaten animal carcasses strewn across the floor. From there we came to a room of animal pens, clearly in some recent use as droppings were underfoot. A large raccoon appears and seemed to share a strange kinship with myself and Olivia - so, of course, I ordered Luis to kill it. It was an ill-fated ask as he split the rodent shard in half sending its innards in a collision course for my face. It took weeks to get the taste out of my mouth.
But soon enough, in an antechamber of warrens, Rinel was literally getting the taste out of her mouth. She had been our anchor - inexplicably resonating with Faith - up to the point she started retching and puking up blood in that very room. At once and immediately the hatred poured back into my heart and my mind, and Violet's as well. Somehow, it was stayed. It was stayed by devotions uttered to Petrichor. Words the shardhaven did not want to hear. It shook immensely - like Halfway House had done - and collapsed a wall to reveal a library. And then, I felt the touch again - as I had once before, years before. The presence of Vellichor. It pushed me to the wall where a faint outline indicated a stowage space. Pressing this, we unearthed several pages long hidden away by Azazel. Many of them rotted and crumbled to dust, but many remain in tact.
And nearly as suddenly as I was stricken by insight, I was plagued by hatred. Extreme and leeching, it festered in my very soul. The knowledge I sought became like a ward, and I was the demon. I backed away frightened and vengeful. "NO! Leave it alone!" I demanded of Violet. I drew my sword.
I - me, Duarte Amadeo - drew my sword against Violet Farwatch. And then a taunted Olivia withs its blade. "Leave it be," I ordered in as fierce a way I could become. I even waggled it at Luis. And then, I touched it to Rinel's bad leg and threatened to amputate it on the spot - promising to finish the job the highway men that took her beloved Wynna had begun.
Written By Duarte
Jan. 26, 2024, 5:21 a.m.(8/16/1021 AR)
Journal
As she told it - she awoke with a start to loud and sudden thumping. It was the beating of her heart pounding like it might leap from her chest. But what it was doing was urging her from bed, out her front door, and into midnight streets bathed in silver.
Rinel strolled from her Upper Boroughs abode, through the outrage, and toward the City Center in her sleeping gown and hat. She put on slippers as an afterthought before her heart pushed her through the door into the night, impelled toward the Great Library of Vellichor. And though she strolled this path hundreds of times, the taste of fear lingered on her tongue. For her path wasn't merely to the library, but down the stairwell. Was he still asleep? Was that a toothy grin she saw in the darkness? These doubts and more assailed her mind while her body only knew to do one thing - yield to the insistence of her heart's pounding.
The silence of the hallway was oppressive. She daren't speak. She barely dared breathe. Walking with a purpose that eluded her, she found herself impelled to a table piled high with books in various states of disarray. One, in particular, beckoned her.
She awoke, in bed, as if none of it happened. Yet, she clung to her bosom the very journal she took from the table in her dream. A Scholar Wilhelm's Journal. In it were his laments of an assignment to Sanctum, and then North past Greenhaven. He was to go witness a cleansing - and he was none to pleased. Pages of ravings against the Archlector tasking him to do such a thing. There was a time we would only receive such snippets, and so the context cannot be placed entirely. But the nature of Wilhelm's doubt hinged on a fear of turning into that which we fight - and that fear resonates with me today.
I found Rinel the next afternoon sitting amongst clutter in her cottage house. The journal, of course she shared. But the peculiar thing was a map.
As she told it - she awoke with a start to loud and sudden thumping. It was the beating of her heart pounding like it might leap from her chest. But what it was doing was urging her from bed, out her front door, and into midnight streets bathed in silver.
Rinel strolled from her Upper Boroughs abode, through the outrage, and toward the City Center in her sleeping gown and hat. She put on slippers as an afterthought before her heart pushed her through the door into the night, impelled toward the Great Library of Vellichor. And though she strolled this path hundreds of times, the taste of fear lingered on her tongue. For her path wasn't merely to the library, but down the stairwell. Was he still asleep? Was that a toothy grin she saw in the darkness? These doubts and more assailed her mind while her body only knew to do one thing - yield to the insistence of her heart's pounding.
The silence of the hallway was oppressive. She daren't speak. She barely dared breathe. Walking with a purpose that eluded her, she found herself impelled to a table piled high with books in various states of disarray. One, in particular, beckoned her.
She awoke, in bed, as if none of it happened. Yet, she clung to her bosom the very journal she took from the table in her dream. A Scholar Wilhelm's Journal. In it were his laments of an assignment to Sanctum, and then North past Greenhaven. He was to go witness a cleansing - and he was none to pleased. Pages of ravings against the Archlector tasking him to do such a thing. There was a time we would only receive such snippets, and so the context cannot be placed entirely. But the nature of Wilhelm's doubt hinged on a fear of turning into that which we fight - and that fear resonates with me today.
I found Rinel the next afternoon sitting amongst clutter in her cottage house. The journal, of course she shared. But the peculiar thing was a map.
Written By Cambria
Jan. 26, 2024, 12:18 a.m.(8/15/1021 AR)
Relationship Note on Miranda
Your heroics on the field of battle were, quite simply, the stuff of legends. Even from my vantage point, I was able to see some of what you accomplished as that mockery of our sigil sought to break the Gate of the Sea. It was hard fought, and I feared that it would succeed in its grim task and allow countless monstrosities to pour through. Yet you never relented, even in the face (faces...) of such terror.
More, you did what anyone else would call the impossible. You slew that creature, you defended our home, and you did not allow them to break through that gate.
You are an inspiration to us all, and your feats of bravery should never be forgotten. You are a hero to so many! Though our days are uncertain, it is my wish that you should live a long life - with Marzio, your children, and all of your family and friends.
More, you did what anyone else would call the impossible. You slew that creature, you defended our home, and you did not allow them to break through that gate.
You are an inspiration to us all, and your feats of bravery should never be forgotten. You are a hero to so many! Though our days are uncertain, it is my wish that you should live a long life - with Marzio, your children, and all of your family and friends.
Written By Cambria
Jan. 25, 2024, 11:53 p.m.(8/15/1021 AR)
Relationship Note on Theron
Theron, I heard what happened. Of course I did - Garibaldi told me. I refuse to believe it was just because it was a very large boulder, or that it was a particularly ferocious demon. You know that I know that you know that I know that you know.
There are darker days yet to come, and you shall be needed by my side.
I always have needed you by my side, though, and you know that. There were moments in your life where I knew you had deeply desired to explore other paths, but that it was I who stopped you from doing so. I don't regret it, not a single instance of it. The life you created, the family you built that will (we hope) carry our legacy into the future was always rooted in Ostria.
This is why you bear Allegiance.
There are darker days yet to come, and you shall be needed by my side.
I always have needed you by my side, though, and you know that. There were moments in your life where I knew you had deeply desired to explore other paths, but that it was I who stopped you from doing so. I don't regret it, not a single instance of it. The life you created, the family you built that will (we hope) carry our legacy into the future was always rooted in Ostria.
This is why you bear Allegiance.
Written By Cambria
Jan. 25, 2024, 11:44 p.m.(8/15/1021 AR)
Relationship Note on Marzio
For years we had worked to achieve a cavalry worth the name. We always knew that dark days were ahead, though I doubt we quite realize just how bad things would become. It is only too easy to say, if only we had more time, if only we had more silver, if only we had more steel, if only we had more silver, if only...
The Thousand shall ever be a point of pride for me, as I know they surely must be for you. The people that you and the Thousand were able to escort safely on their way in the days leading up to the assault on our walls are the precious people of Ostria, and other refugees making their way to Arx besides, and there can be no understating just how vitally important that task was.
Amidst the walls of our city, you took the unenviable task of assembling within the Outer Round - a place certainly not best suited to the cavalry!
You could not have seen it, but my heart swelled with such fierce joy as I saw you at their forefront, as I heard the beating of the shields until that sound drowned out all else for one sublime moment.
In the chaos of battle that followed, while I was not able to follow your exact movements, I witnessed from on high the true might of our people and I knew that you were leading them. I never doubted for a moment that you had fallen, and this gave me more heart than you can imagine.
In the days to come, you shall be needed more than ever.
The Thousand shall ever be a point of pride for me, as I know they surely must be for you. The people that you and the Thousand were able to escort safely on their way in the days leading up to the assault on our walls are the precious people of Ostria, and other refugees making their way to Arx besides, and there can be no understating just how vitally important that task was.
Amidst the walls of our city, you took the unenviable task of assembling within the Outer Round - a place certainly not best suited to the cavalry!
You could not have seen it, but my heart swelled with such fierce joy as I saw you at their forefront, as I heard the beating of the shields until that sound drowned out all else for one sublime moment.
In the chaos of battle that followed, while I was not able to follow your exact movements, I witnessed from on high the true might of our people and I knew that you were leading them. I never doubted for a moment that you had fallen, and this gave me more heart than you can imagine.
In the days to come, you shall be needed more than ever.
Written By Aconite
Jan. 25, 2024, 6:54 p.m.(8/15/1021 AR)
He's dead! My bane, my hunter, my nightmare is gone! I did not know that he was my creator for a very long time but I did not know for as long as I have known I felt the cold blade of the huntsmen at my back and worried what might happen should he find me.
But He is gone. They are /gone/. My estranged, distant but beloved family are free. They will rebuild a new dream for themselves under the strength and sovereignty of their brave and blessed Queens.
There were many losses.. May they return to the wheel comforted that the did not sacrifice in vain!!
There's still much to do. Cults and Magisters to route and raze...
May Eurus and her people ever prosper. Especially those friends and refugees who can return home now.
My heart aches with joy.
But He is gone. They are /gone/. My estranged, distant but beloved family are free. They will rebuild a new dream for themselves under the strength and sovereignty of their brave and blessed Queens.
There were many losses.. May they return to the wheel comforted that the did not sacrifice in vain!!
There's still much to do. Cults and Magisters to route and raze...
May Eurus and her people ever prosper. Especially those friends and refugees who can return home now.
My heart aches with joy.
Written By Cufre
Jan. 25, 2024, 6 p.m.(8/15/1021 AR)
Relationship Note on Claude
Master Claude,
I pray to Death that you can't read this. I hope you've left here wholly and have found the peace of the Shining Lands entire. This here is for me.
It's for me because the first time I wrote about you, in my black journal, it was because I felt cheated by you. I thought you, in a way, had stolen from me. It was the other way 'round, too: you thought I was cheating you, asking you for payment anew on top of a payment made.
It's for me because that anger was strong enough for me to put it down with the Scholars, but the friendship that grew after we both spoke our way of seeing it, after we found the truth of it, that friendship and my thankfulness for it never made it to either journal before now.
I didn't write about our talks in your shop, talks about Skald and about the Queen of Endings. I didn't write about that brandy you gave me, that we shared in place of tea one day. I still have the bottle. I didn't write about your going to speak to the Abandoned on behalf of my family — I really should have written about that, how you came back with tales of the Yorn and of the Kous. I didn't write about you letting me sell your mystery toys in my shop so us Lowers folk had a local shop, a local chance to get them. And I didn't write about the one toy that never made it to a mystery box, the only one of its kind. I keep that one in my family's shop, on my work table. A surprise, an honor, and a reminder, that.
I didn't write about missing you these last few years, about writing to you even though I knew you left the city, about not hearing back.
I didn't write about seeing you, at last, at the camp near Harrow Hall, and how hard it was to say goodbye knowing it would be the last one.
I never got a chance to tell you about the threads of golden light She let me see. And though I can't see them in that way, anymore, I see them now in laughter shared. In hands held, in secret smiles. In discounts offered. In practice fights, in friendly boasts. In stories shared.
Though I can't see them in that way anymore, I know there was a single, bright golden thread that ran from me to Bastion. To you.
I will do my best to look after Lewis, to help him do right by your shop and justice to your training.
I will do better, I think, at looking after Echo. I've no shortage of homes for her to make her own.
If I survive what comes to Arx, I promise I will go to Old Oak and speak blessings for those who died in its fall.
But I dearly wish you were there to speak them beside me.
I pray to Death that you can't read this. I hope you've left here wholly and have found the peace of the Shining Lands entire. This here is for me.
It's for me because the first time I wrote about you, in my black journal, it was because I felt cheated by you. I thought you, in a way, had stolen from me. It was the other way 'round, too: you thought I was cheating you, asking you for payment anew on top of a payment made.
It's for me because that anger was strong enough for me to put it down with the Scholars, but the friendship that grew after we both spoke our way of seeing it, after we found the truth of it, that friendship and my thankfulness for it never made it to either journal before now.
I didn't write about our talks in your shop, talks about Skald and about the Queen of Endings. I didn't write about that brandy you gave me, that we shared in place of tea one day. I still have the bottle. I didn't write about your going to speak to the Abandoned on behalf of my family — I really should have written about that, how you came back with tales of the Yorn and of the Kous. I didn't write about you letting me sell your mystery toys in my shop so us Lowers folk had a local shop, a local chance to get them. And I didn't write about the one toy that never made it to a mystery box, the only one of its kind. I keep that one in my family's shop, on my work table. A surprise, an honor, and a reminder, that.
I didn't write about missing you these last few years, about writing to you even though I knew you left the city, about not hearing back.
I didn't write about seeing you, at last, at the camp near Harrow Hall, and how hard it was to say goodbye knowing it would be the last one.
I never got a chance to tell you about the threads of golden light She let me see. And though I can't see them in that way, anymore, I see them now in laughter shared. In hands held, in secret smiles. In discounts offered. In practice fights, in friendly boasts. In stories shared.
Though I can't see them in that way anymore, I know there was a single, bright golden thread that ran from me to Bastion. To you.
I will do my best to look after Lewis, to help him do right by your shop and justice to your training.
I will do better, I think, at looking after Echo. I've no shortage of homes for her to make her own.
If I survive what comes to Arx, I promise I will go to Old Oak and speak blessings for those who died in its fall.
But I dearly wish you were there to speak them beside me.
Written By Renata
Jan. 25, 2024, 5:42 p.m.(8/15/1021 AR)
Relationship Note on Sabriel
Amongst the many who showed their bravery in Setarco I would not be here to write of those brave moments if it wasn't for Sabriel Stormborn. In a moment against my nature of life and course within my every being. I attempted something within the first steps of the battle which proved horribly wrong for my livelihood.
Sabriel, took it upon herself to ensure that I was safely pulled from harms way.
I owe her a great debt in this.
Sabriel, took it upon herself to ensure that I was safely pulled from harms way.
I owe her a great debt in this.
Written By Acantha
Jan. 25, 2024, 4:26 p.m.(8/15/1021 AR)
When I came to Arx I was fortunate enough in my first patron, Lord Arik Halfshav. He set me on my ways, and I quickly adapted to the city. I made it my drive to make sure that Clearlake was settled in and was thriving. To make sure that our people were adjusting to our new surroundings and ways.
Then Benny came along as he'd be summoned by outside forces. The best part of my life, even with the grim circumstances behind why he came to me.
Then Kritr abdicated and I found myself a Baroness, then a Countess. We built a sanctuary for the Templars; we started a successful fur trade with the help of so many people. I married Lord Vano Rivenshari and he was one of the best things in my life. Lord Mirk became my patron after Lord Arik was dealing with other projects.
Nothing is the same as when I first arrived in the city and nothing will ever be the same. We have grown and we have changed. Clearlake Hold is destroyed, but by our hands. It was our choice to sacrifice our home and to live to fight in other places. I thank the gods and the spirits every day that I open my eyes.
I feel rebuilding Clearlake will start with a new house motto: You can tear us down, but we will rebuild.
Then Benny came along as he'd be summoned by outside forces. The best part of my life, even with the grim circumstances behind why he came to me.
Then Kritr abdicated and I found myself a Baroness, then a Countess. We built a sanctuary for the Templars; we started a successful fur trade with the help of so many people. I married Lord Vano Rivenshari and he was one of the best things in my life. Lord Mirk became my patron after Lord Arik was dealing with other projects.
Nothing is the same as when I first arrived in the city and nothing will ever be the same. We have grown and we have changed. Clearlake Hold is destroyed, but by our hands. It was our choice to sacrifice our home and to live to fight in other places. I thank the gods and the spirits every day that I open my eyes.
I feel rebuilding Clearlake will start with a new house motto: You can tear us down, but we will rebuild.
Written By Cassimir
Jan. 25, 2024, 2:12 p.m.(8/14/1021 AR)
This is how it feels to be truly alive. Who would have thought?
Written By Medeia
Jan. 25, 2024, 12:45 p.m.(8/14/1021 AR)
Relationship Note on Kastelon
You were there when we found my uncle. I remember seeing you there, in the periphery of everything else, with your bow in hand. And you were there, in the Isles, when you had no need to be. And you lost an eye! You lost a fucking eye, Kastelon! But you had stopped telling me about Bessie well before then. And I can't remember the last time I squished Resolute's ears in my hands. I want to be mad at you. I am. A little.
Yet. The memory that holds, more than the cow racing and bull riding and the days spent observing you at the training center and everything else, is this stupid puzzle. That's not fair. The puzzle isn't stupid.
Amid all the fantastic things that happened at the wedding of Kael and Keely was the simple warmth of us communicating while saying nothing at all to complete that puzzle faster than everyone else. That, somehow, after so many years and whatever had happened between us - and, truly, I have no idea what happened, even though I was a part of it - we were still able to work together to such great effect.
I want to push you off of something. I don't know what to do with these emotions. I don't even know what these emotions are. How dare you? How utterly revolting that an Oathlands lord could make a Lycene lady feel anything, especially this, whatever it is?
(It's grief.)
When the world survives this threat we face, I hope that someone reads this and knows that Lord Kastelon Keaton died to ensure that they could read this. Know that he was a man who loved the forest and came to own a ship, that he could be counted on to come to your defense wherever you were, that he was unafraid to shout at the stars. He was a good man. He should be remembered.
Yet. The memory that holds, more than the cow racing and bull riding and the days spent observing you at the training center and everything else, is this stupid puzzle. That's not fair. The puzzle isn't stupid.
Amid all the fantastic things that happened at the wedding of Kael and Keely was the simple warmth of us communicating while saying nothing at all to complete that puzzle faster than everyone else. That, somehow, after so many years and whatever had happened between us - and, truly, I have no idea what happened, even though I was a part of it - we were still able to work together to such great effect.
I want to push you off of something. I don't know what to do with these emotions. I don't even know what these emotions are. How dare you? How utterly revolting that an Oathlands lord could make a Lycene lady feel anything, especially this, whatever it is?
(It's grief.)
When the world survives this threat we face, I hope that someone reads this and knows that Lord Kastelon Keaton died to ensure that they could read this. Know that he was a man who loved the forest and came to own a ship, that he could be counted on to come to your defense wherever you were, that he was unafraid to shout at the stars. He was a good man. He should be remembered.
Written By Renata
Jan. 25, 2024, 11:19 a.m.(8/14/1021 AR)
I find myself reflecting on the valorous deeds of the many warriors who rallied under the banner of House Pravus to ensure the salvation of Setarco. As the city stood on the brink of annihilation, it was the unity and determination of these brave souls that turned the tide of battle and secured victory in the face of overwhelming adversity.
The forces of darkness, embodied by the demonic hordes, sought to lay waste to our beloved city, but they underestimated the resilience of those who call Setarco home. Led by the unwavering leadership of House Pravus, warriors from all corners of the realm united in a common cause – to defend our people and preserve our way of life.
In the heat of battle, it was the selfless acts of heroism that defined our victory. From the valiant defenders who stood guard atop the city walls to the courageous warriors who charged fearlessly into the fray, each individual played a vital role in ensuring the safety of our people.
I must take a moment to offer my deepest condolences to the family members of Giorgio Pontelaeus, a man whose golden touch brought prosperity to House Proscipi. His loss is felt deeply by all who knew him, and his memory shall forever be honored among the heroes who gave their lives in defense of Setarco.
The bravery and sacrifice of the warriors from every house under the Pravus banner have ensured that our people will make it safely to Arx. Their unwavering dedication to duty and their willingness to stand together in the face of adversity serve as a testament to the strength of our unity.
As we begin the journey to Arx, let us carry with us the memory of those who gave their lives so that others may live. Let us honor their legacy by continuing to uphold the values of courage, unity, and resilience that define us as a people.
The forces of darkness, embodied by the demonic hordes, sought to lay waste to our beloved city, but they underestimated the resilience of those who call Setarco home. Led by the unwavering leadership of House Pravus, warriors from all corners of the realm united in a common cause – to defend our people and preserve our way of life.
In the heat of battle, it was the selfless acts of heroism that defined our victory. From the valiant defenders who stood guard atop the city walls to the courageous warriors who charged fearlessly into the fray, each individual played a vital role in ensuring the safety of our people.
I must take a moment to offer my deepest condolences to the family members of Giorgio Pontelaeus, a man whose golden touch brought prosperity to House Proscipi. His loss is felt deeply by all who knew him, and his memory shall forever be honored among the heroes who gave their lives in defense of Setarco.
The bravery and sacrifice of the warriors from every house under the Pravus banner have ensured that our people will make it safely to Arx. Their unwavering dedication to duty and their willingness to stand together in the face of adversity serve as a testament to the strength of our unity.
As we begin the journey to Arx, let us carry with us the memory of those who gave their lives so that others may live. Let us honor their legacy by continuing to uphold the values of courage, unity, and resilience that define us as a people.
Written By Medeia
Jan. 25, 2024, 10:51 a.m.(8/14/1021 AR)
Relationship Note on Giorgio
Once, the late Marquessa Ezmeralda Leporidae of Tremorus and Giorgio Pontelaeus invited me to their estate to talk. They said very kind things to me, especially Giorgio, about my leadership capabilities. My then-husband was at my side, hearing all of this, too. We, along with some additional support from Eswynd, had been helping them with military and medical aid during what came to be known as the Scythian War.
They offered me - us - a county to lead as vassal.
Haakon - we - said no.
But I have never forgotten the confidence they had in me. And when Giorgio held the march as marquis, I continued to support the rebuilding of Tremorus in the wake of that horrible, devastating war. There has never been a place that has inspired such awe in me to see. It was beautiful. Even in the destruction.
Much like Giorgio. I hear he is now a statue of gold. How cruelly poetic.
I don't know how a heart is meant to endure such things. For now, the medal Giorgio gave me after the war will be kept with me so that I may keep his memory close.
They offered me - us - a county to lead as vassal.
Haakon - we - said no.
But I have never forgotten the confidence they had in me. And when Giorgio held the march as marquis, I continued to support the rebuilding of Tremorus in the wake of that horrible, devastating war. There has never been a place that has inspired such awe in me to see. It was beautiful. Even in the destruction.
Much like Giorgio. I hear he is now a statue of gold. How cruelly poetic.
I don't know how a heart is meant to endure such things. For now, the medal Giorgio gave me after the war will be kept with me so that I may keep his memory close.
Written By Tikva
Jan. 25, 2024, 10:48 a.m.(8/14/1021 AR)
I have seen wonders beyond the telling and I feel fortunate to be blessed with the power of song.
Written By Dominique
Jan. 25, 2024, 1:38 a.m.(8/13/1021 AR)
Tick tock.
Time is running out.
It pains me to have sent my people from Blancbier to Sanctum, to abandon Wyrmhold, which has been within my family's keeping since the previous Reckoning. By oath and by sword, we have defended it. And even now, that which we have guarded remains safe.
We remain true to our Oaths. Though I was not at Sanctum, my heart stands with my family and my people as they stand and hold against the onslaught. I grieve for the terrible cost.
Yet, I have another duty. A grave duty. I am ready to fulfill it, though I was ever doubtful it would ever truly fall to me, or in my lifetime.
Wyrmguard stands ready.
Non Omnis Moriar.
Time is running out.
It pains me to have sent my people from Blancbier to Sanctum, to abandon Wyrmhold, which has been within my family's keeping since the previous Reckoning. By oath and by sword, we have defended it. And even now, that which we have guarded remains safe.
We remain true to our Oaths. Though I was not at Sanctum, my heart stands with my family and my people as they stand and hold against the onslaught. I grieve for the terrible cost.
Yet, I have another duty. A grave duty. I am ready to fulfill it, though I was ever doubtful it would ever truly fall to me, or in my lifetime.
Wyrmguard stands ready.
Non Omnis Moriar.
Written By Sen'azala
Jan. 25, 2024, 1:38 a.m.(8/13/1021 AR)
Relationship Note on Nash
We write our own names.
I knew a man; a beggar, a gardener, a teacher. I don't know how many people he taught, or how many of those names I'd recognize if I did, but he taught me. He didn't teach me how to fight - I knew that, even though he was infinitely better - he didn't teach me how to kill. He taught me the opposite. He taught me that I didn't have to fight, that I didn't have to kill, that there was more to me than what I was, and that I was capable of reaching for it. The first time I felt what it was to truly be me, the first time I was whole, it was because of him.
He taught me more. The first task he set for me was impossible. I smashed my head against it again, and again, grew more and more frustrated every time I failed. I was supposed to buy thirteen white hares, take them out into the deep forest, and release them. Then I was told to ride a distance away, come back, then catch them all again - alive - at sunset. Some would die, some I'd never be able to find, some would go so far I couldn't hope to catch up with them in time. I tried to think my way around it. I could cheat. I could set up traps beforehand, I could leash them to a tree so they wouldn't go anywhere, I could drug their feed so they'd be slow and want to sleep. It was very easy to start thinking like that. I don't like failing. I wanted to win.
When I finally admitted to him that I couldn't do it, he shared a story of my people with me. It was more meaningful than I could say; I didn't have any of their stories then. The lesson I learned, then, was this:
You can't save everyone. People will make their own choices, which means they will sometimes make terrible ones. They'll be stupid. Self destructive. They'll hurt other people, both intentionally and otherwise. They'll turn on you, and those you care about. They'll do all sorts of things you don't want them to do, and the only way to stop them doing that is to take their ability to make choices away. It's very easy to start down that road, thinking you know best, thinking you're helping, that you're just putting in some guardrails. It's very easy to trade freedom for safety, particularly if it's someone else's freedom, and your safety.
I never knew the Sword of Caer'alfar. I knew my teacher. Lys has named him Fuko, his story called him the Hound, but he was Nash to me. He was Nanashi. He was a man who believed he didn't have a name, and didn't deserve one, but that's the name he wrote. For centuries, for however many students, for the gardens he planted, the good he did, the evil he did, the in-between he did, that's the name he wrote on the Dream. Nanashi has not meant 'No Name' for a very long time.
I'm not naïve. I know he was forced to do terrible things. I know he likely did terrible things without being forced. But I also know this:
He had no writ when he died. He had nothing but his own heart and his own choices, and given those the man who had been used as a nameless weapon for the vast majority of his incredibly long life chose to die alone on a road saving the lives of children that would otherwise have been forgotten. I don't know if that makes him a good man. I don't know what makes a good man. But that was his choice when he only had his choices, that was the name he wrote on the world.
It damns you more, Platinum. It damns you even more, the name he wrote when he was finally free of you.
I knew a man; a beggar, a gardener, a teacher. I don't know how many people he taught, or how many of those names I'd recognize if I did, but he taught me. He didn't teach me how to fight - I knew that, even though he was infinitely better - he didn't teach me how to kill. He taught me the opposite. He taught me that I didn't have to fight, that I didn't have to kill, that there was more to me than what I was, and that I was capable of reaching for it. The first time I felt what it was to truly be me, the first time I was whole, it was because of him.
He taught me more. The first task he set for me was impossible. I smashed my head against it again, and again, grew more and more frustrated every time I failed. I was supposed to buy thirteen white hares, take them out into the deep forest, and release them. Then I was told to ride a distance away, come back, then catch them all again - alive - at sunset. Some would die, some I'd never be able to find, some would go so far I couldn't hope to catch up with them in time. I tried to think my way around it. I could cheat. I could set up traps beforehand, I could leash them to a tree so they wouldn't go anywhere, I could drug their feed so they'd be slow and want to sleep. It was very easy to start thinking like that. I don't like failing. I wanted to win.
When I finally admitted to him that I couldn't do it, he shared a story of my people with me. It was more meaningful than I could say; I didn't have any of their stories then. The lesson I learned, then, was this:
You can't save everyone. People will make their own choices, which means they will sometimes make terrible ones. They'll be stupid. Self destructive. They'll hurt other people, both intentionally and otherwise. They'll turn on you, and those you care about. They'll do all sorts of things you don't want them to do, and the only way to stop them doing that is to take their ability to make choices away. It's very easy to start down that road, thinking you know best, thinking you're helping, that you're just putting in some guardrails. It's very easy to trade freedom for safety, particularly if it's someone else's freedom, and your safety.
I never knew the Sword of Caer'alfar. I knew my teacher. Lys has named him Fuko, his story called him the Hound, but he was Nash to me. He was Nanashi. He was a man who believed he didn't have a name, and didn't deserve one, but that's the name he wrote. For centuries, for however many students, for the gardens he planted, the good he did, the evil he did, the in-between he did, that's the name he wrote on the Dream. Nanashi has not meant 'No Name' for a very long time.
I'm not naïve. I know he was forced to do terrible things. I know he likely did terrible things without being forced. But I also know this:
He had no writ when he died. He had nothing but his own heart and his own choices, and given those the man who had been used as a nameless weapon for the vast majority of his incredibly long life chose to die alone on a road saving the lives of children that would otherwise have been forgotten. I don't know if that makes him a good man. I don't know what makes a good man. But that was his choice when he only had his choices, that was the name he wrote on the world.
It damns you more, Platinum. It damns you even more, the name he wrote when he was finally free of you.
Written By Orland
Jan. 24, 2024, 11:13 p.m.(8/13/1021 AR)
Relationship Note on Giorgio
Words cannot fill the emptiness you leave to our family.
We will do great works in your honour, my brother.
We will do great works in your honour, my brother.
Written By Orland
Jan. 24, 2024, 11:12 p.m.(8/13/1021 AR)
I started with nothing. I remain how I was born. There is no exceptional quality about me, other than I was given a chance. And a chance is sometimes all a person needs to do some extraordinary things with their life. I can see that now and I will one day, give my people, the people of Bravura, a chance to rise from the ashes and forge themselves into something new. No matter how long it takes, Bravura will once again be my home.
And I will not be alone...
My husband, my children, my friends ... will be there at my side.
And I will not be alone...
My husband, my children, my friends ... will be there at my side.
Written By Cambria
Jan. 24, 2024, 10:12 p.m.(8/13/1021 AR)
Relationship Note on Reese
I am not sure I shall ever be able to thank you enough for what you did for my House, and the people of Ostria. Among those I count as instrumental to our survival, your name shines brightly. If anyone has ever needed proof that you are a hero most deeply despised by our enemy, then I stand as witness to the constant onslaught you suffered against the worst of monstrosities. They came against you without surcease, and you did not falter. I watched your sword arm cut them down as though guided by Gloria herself. I saw you suffer blows that caused my heart to leap into my throat, and still you did not fall.
In that one fateful moment, when it appeared as though they would overwhelm you through sheer numbers alone, it was my honor to be able to be at your side quickly enough in order to pull you back to your feet.
Fighting beside you has been one of my greatest privileges. However long my days are numbered, you can rely on me to remain a steadfast ally and friend, and source of support, as you were for us. The hope that you inspired among my people when they saw you upon the battlements cannot be readily expressed in words. It was something that could only be felt.
May you always be remembered as the great soul that you are.
In that one fateful moment, when it appeared as though they would overwhelm you through sheer numbers alone, it was my honor to be able to be at your side quickly enough in order to pull you back to your feet.
Fighting beside you has been one of my greatest privileges. However long my days are numbered, you can rely on me to remain a steadfast ally and friend, and source of support, as you were for us. The hope that you inspired among my people when they saw you upon the battlements cannot be readily expressed in words. It was something that could only be felt.
May you always be remembered as the great soul that you are.
Written By Orland
Jan. 24, 2024, 7:41 p.m.(8/13/1021 AR)
If I should fall, and should Savio Amadeo fall with me... our children will be raised and fostered by Marquessa Cassiopeia and Marquis-Consort Proscipi, until they're of legal age.
All my wealth and items will pass on to them.
By my hand.
Orland Amadeo,
Voice of Amadeo, seat of Bravura
All my wealth and items will pass on to them.
By my hand.
Orland Amadeo,
Voice of Amadeo, seat of Bravura
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