Written By Bliss
March 3, 2019, 4:38 p.m.(9/4/1010 AR)
Relationship Note on Audric
<A posr-dated journal entry>
I didn't spend long at Fen de Lire. A shot of whiskey, a mug of beer. I threw them both on the road and crushed them under my heel, laughed at your foolhardiness, then moved on.
I think that's what you would have wanted. Our Lady of Terrible Puns is lucky to be the one getting to hear your stories now.
I didn't spend long at Fen de Lire. A shot of whiskey, a mug of beer. I threw them both on the road and crushed them under my heel, laughed at your foolhardiness, then moved on.
I think that's what you would have wanted. Our Lady of Terrible Puns is lucky to be the one getting to hear your stories now.
Written By Luca
March 3, 2019, 4:34 p.m.(9/4/1010 AR)
Relationship Note on Carita
Why don't crabs have eyebrows? Mangata took them away because they were irresponsible with them.
My protege's daughter spent some time with me while her mother was in Maelstrom. Not all of it, otherwise I might not have survived. I never realized a child could have so many questions in them as Nerissa Darkwater does. I started running out of real answers long before she started running out of hard questions. In the end, I turned the tables on her and started asking the questions. I'm a wiser man now than I was before.
Did you know owls are not turtles? It means they're active at night. I have it on good authority.
She was rather taken with the large painting of Queen Alarice astride a golden-feathered griffin. Questions about Alarice were mostly easier to answer than questions about griffins, though we did make the attempt to hunt one down in the mansion. I thought for sure there would be at least one hiding somewhere, under a bed perhaps or in the kitchens. Alas.
After she was gone, I searched the wine cabinets in a last ditch effort. No griffins, either, but I found some memories worth keeping.
My protege's daughter spent some time with me while her mother was in Maelstrom. Not all of it, otherwise I might not have survived. I never realized a child could have so many questions in them as Nerissa Darkwater does. I started running out of real answers long before she started running out of hard questions. In the end, I turned the tables on her and started asking the questions. I'm a wiser man now than I was before.
Did you know owls are not turtles? It means they're active at night. I have it on good authority.
She was rather taken with the large painting of Queen Alarice astride a golden-feathered griffin. Questions about Alarice were mostly easier to answer than questions about griffins, though we did make the attempt to hunt one down in the mansion. I thought for sure there would be at least one hiding somewhere, under a bed perhaps or in the kitchens. Alas.
After she was gone, I searched the wine cabinets in a last ditch effort. No griffins, either, but I found some memories worth keeping.
Written By Bliss
March 3, 2019, 4:30 p.m.(9/4/1010 AR)
<A journal postdated from a few days back>
Today I met an old man who had lived in the same village his entire life. It was just on the outskirts of the Fen de Lire, and there were really only two streets, at an angle to each other, and about ten houses total. This man - his name is Ernesto - had been born there - he pointed out the window of the tavern to his house. He had married a woman who came by on a caravan. True love, he claimed, and since she lived with him until she died, maybe he was right.
He pointed to where they had lived, where they had raised their four children, all with families of their own now. One died in the war at Southport - a mercenary who met a mercenary's end. The Silent War got another, his whole family wiped out during one of the skirmishes there - they had moved to the Gray Forest for safety. The third he hadn't heard from in a long time. He assumed they were still alive, but wondered why they hadn't written.
The fourth was a wandering duelist like me.
Here was a man who had, by all accounts, lost everything. For whom so much had changed, even though he remained a fisher in a little hut by a river. Even though he would likely die that way. I asked him if he had ever traveled, and he assured me he had - but when I pressed him, he admitted that it was not more than two towns over to the market to buy some presents.
I don't know a lot about Ernesto, but I do know that he chose a life that was in almost every way, entirely the opposite of mine. A life I could not even begin to imagine. A life that would have me screaming.
But he smiled, happy for the attention of a beautiful woman. He shared the dirty jokes he had picked up over the years. And damned if he couldn't see things I couldn't at a glance.
I don't understand him. But I'm glad that I met him.
Today I met an old man who had lived in the same village his entire life. It was just on the outskirts of the Fen de Lire, and there were really only two streets, at an angle to each other, and about ten houses total. This man - his name is Ernesto - had been born there - he pointed out the window of the tavern to his house. He had married a woman who came by on a caravan. True love, he claimed, and since she lived with him until she died, maybe he was right.
He pointed to where they had lived, where they had raised their four children, all with families of their own now. One died in the war at Southport - a mercenary who met a mercenary's end. The Silent War got another, his whole family wiped out during one of the skirmishes there - they had moved to the Gray Forest for safety. The third he hadn't heard from in a long time. He assumed they were still alive, but wondered why they hadn't written.
The fourth was a wandering duelist like me.
Here was a man who had, by all accounts, lost everything. For whom so much had changed, even though he remained a fisher in a little hut by a river. Even though he would likely die that way. I asked him if he had ever traveled, and he assured me he had - but when I pressed him, he admitted that it was not more than two towns over to the market to buy some presents.
I don't know a lot about Ernesto, but I do know that he chose a life that was in almost every way, entirely the opposite of mine. A life I could not even begin to imagine. A life that would have me screaming.
But he smiled, happy for the attention of a beautiful woman. He shared the dirty jokes he had picked up over the years. And damned if he couldn't see things I couldn't at a glance.
I don't understand him. But I'm glad that I met him.
Written By Domonico
March 3, 2019, 4:17 p.m.(9/4/1010 AR)
Lord Dariel and Lady Miranda are both utter tricksters when the mood takes them. Be warned.
Written By Fortunato
March 3, 2019, 11:41 a.m.(9/4/1010 AR)
Relationship Note on Lisebet
Ahaha! You are never too old for nightmares.
Written By Elgana
March 3, 2019, 10:48 a.m.(9/4/1010 AR)
Cold. So cold. This chill lingers with me and will not let me go. I should be thankful considering it is still summer but this dread looms over me. I should visit the gardens to clear the lingering frost of this dream of mine.
Written By Martino
March 3, 2019, 5:35 a.m.(9/3/1010 AR)
Relationship Note on Videl
At seeing the notice of the encouragement of arts event being hosted by the Lady Videl; as one who appreciates the galleries here in the city I thought it prudent to test ones own ability. Not before have I spent time behind a canvas for long, so I am quite certain this was luck more than natural talent, it seems the painting of the Princess came out better than thought.
Perhaps, really, once is not enough and I must don the overalls again.
Perhaps, really, once is not enough and I must don the overalls again.
Written By Mirari
March 3, 2019, 3:55 a.m.(9/3/1010 AR)
This brings I'll tidings, indeed. I feel chilled to my soul.
Written By Sabella
March 3, 2019, 2:08 a.m.(9/3/1010 AR)
In her more amused moments my mother used to say that she sometimes thought the world itself bent over backwards so as not to disappoint me. That I could hope and dream for something so fervently the gods didn't have the heart to shatter such belief and nudged things in place accordingly. I don't think that's really true, but recent events might have me wondering.
My father disappeared when I was ten years old, presumed dead in a shipwreck. I cannot tell you of how many nights I dreamed that he was still alive and wished on every star I could find that he could come home. My tutors often warned me away from such things saying I would only find disappointment in life if I lived with my head in the clouds and my heart full of dreams, but as a small child who missed her father so dearly, I couldn't help but hold onto that thin strand of hope that somewhere he was alive and would find his way back to us.
And as all childhood memories, that hope faded over time. It never went away completely, just a wistful sigh lost in a breeze on a random morning, but it was not longer the hope that I used my wishes on. I looked to the stars with other dreams in mind.
Yet I must be thankful to those old stars that carried my wishes with them all those years, because my father has returned to us! Where he has been and what he has been through I cannot imagine, but the fact that he is here now is a truth that even I am having a hard time coming to terms with. My father is alive and he is home and I could not be happier! It was a shock--a happy one--and I have enjoyed getting to know him once again. I have been able to introduce him to my husband and his grandchildren and tell him all the happy tales he has missed while he was away. And all of this just enforced one simple fact to me: you should never give up hope. Keep wishing and hoping and dreaming and be so thankful for those miracles that happen.
Because they do happen. My father is living proof of that!
My father disappeared when I was ten years old, presumed dead in a shipwreck. I cannot tell you of how many nights I dreamed that he was still alive and wished on every star I could find that he could come home. My tutors often warned me away from such things saying I would only find disappointment in life if I lived with my head in the clouds and my heart full of dreams, but as a small child who missed her father so dearly, I couldn't help but hold onto that thin strand of hope that somewhere he was alive and would find his way back to us.
And as all childhood memories, that hope faded over time. It never went away completely, just a wistful sigh lost in a breeze on a random morning, but it was not longer the hope that I used my wishes on. I looked to the stars with other dreams in mind.
Yet I must be thankful to those old stars that carried my wishes with them all those years, because my father has returned to us! Where he has been and what he has been through I cannot imagine, but the fact that he is here now is a truth that even I am having a hard time coming to terms with. My father is alive and he is home and I could not be happier! It was a shock--a happy one--and I have enjoyed getting to know him once again. I have been able to introduce him to my husband and his grandchildren and tell him all the happy tales he has missed while he was away. And all of this just enforced one simple fact to me: you should never give up hope. Keep wishing and hoping and dreaming and be so thankful for those miracles that happen.
Because they do happen. My father is living proof of that!
Written By Lisebet
March 3, 2019, 12:02 a.m.(9/3/1010 AR)
I am too old to be having nightmares - awakening from a dream that terrifies me. But it was just a dream.
Why am I still cold?
Why am I still cold?
Written By Rysen
March 2, 2019, 11:34 p.m.(9/3/1010 AR)
I had the good fortune to attend two parties in recent days of quite different character. The first was in celebration of the birth of Marquessa Lianne Malespero, the liberator of fine wines and patron of the master brewer Venturo. The Lycene style is new to me. Celebrations in the North are generally of two species: the solemn and sacred, or the raucous and wild, but Lady Lianne sat in the grass in the courtyard of her tower, surrounded by friends, family and strangers attracted to free and delicious drinks, and it was a relaxing and enjoyable experience. It was my second time meeting Lord Pasquale. He seems a dour man, but intelligent and good hearted - the sort that will tell you if your poem fails, or your swordplay has gotten lazy. Such men make invaluable friends.
The second party was hosted by Princess Liara Grayson, and was an extravagant, exciting affair. I hoped to congratulate Princess Sabella and Prince Niklas in person on the recent birth of their son, and was happy to find the Nightingale present, who, as usual, was dressed in such resplendent beauty as will not be soon forgot. There were games, drinks, food, music, dancing, and His Majesty the King arrived as well, which provided an opportunity for Prince Niklas to prove himself not only the greatest wit in Arvum, but also, its greatest dancer.
As for my own dance partner, on my pride as a poet, I will never do her justice in prose. I have read her books, observed her lessons, watched her show grace in defeat, strength and skill in the arts of combat, and compassion to those she meets. She is the embodiment of the ideals of chivalry and virtue, and the beating heart of what it means to be a knight. They say there are none above Grayson. Indeed, there are none.
The second party was hosted by Princess Liara Grayson, and was an extravagant, exciting affair. I hoped to congratulate Princess Sabella and Prince Niklas in person on the recent birth of their son, and was happy to find the Nightingale present, who, as usual, was dressed in such resplendent beauty as will not be soon forgot. There were games, drinks, food, music, dancing, and His Majesty the King arrived as well, which provided an opportunity for Prince Niklas to prove himself not only the greatest wit in Arvum, but also, its greatest dancer.
As for my own dance partner, on my pride as a poet, I will never do her justice in prose. I have read her books, observed her lessons, watched her show grace in defeat, strength and skill in the arts of combat, and compassion to those she meets. She is the embodiment of the ideals of chivalry and virtue, and the beating heart of what it means to be a knight. They say there are none above Grayson. Indeed, there are none.
Written By Lucita
March 2, 2019, 10:52 p.m.(9/3/1010 AR)
It's been a busy few days, finishing up paperwork for a pending trip to Saikland, teaching a few knife techniques to a student whose skill now exceeds my own... and left me the bruises in a spar to prove it, catching up news with friends and family, paying respects at a wake and finally getting to sing with Dame Leta one of the songs she wrote. Today there was time for a breather, a bit of time with the twins. It is a bit sad when we have to divert them as they miss some who used to be such frequent visitors they were dubbed an honorary "Unka". They will be two in just a couple of weeks.
Written By Vanora
March 2, 2019, 5:37 p.m.(9/2/1010 AR)
Relationship Note on Margot
I've long stopped expecting much in the way of surprises from the peerage in the Isles. Yet today was a reminder that I should shake off these old experiences and begin anew. As I seem to have done with the Duchess Margot Tyde, who once could not stand me to the point where she refused to take tea with me 'now or ever' and assured me I would never be her peer.
Now we are more than peers of a sort but partners in particular efforts to see our people thrive. We understand each other in a way I never expected we possibly could. And I think I might like her, just a bit.
Now we are more than peers of a sort but partners in particular efforts to see our people thrive. We understand each other in a way I never expected we possibly could. And I think I might like her, just a bit.
Written By Miranda
March 2, 2019, 5:10 p.m.(9/2/1010 AR)
Relationship Note on Domonico
Cousin, what're you afraid of?
If you don't show up, your betrothed will hunt you and give you a piece of her mind! Sharp weapons may be involved.
...
Hey, I kinda wanna see that...
If you don't show up, your betrothed will hunt you and give you a piece of her mind! Sharp weapons may be involved.
...
Hey, I kinda wanna see that...
Written By Miranda
March 2, 2019, 5:09 p.m.(9/2/1010 AR)
I went to a Night of Linguistics and found myself feeling out of sorts.
Big crowds of people have always made me feel uneasy. I feel lost, unsure of where to sit or stand, and what to talk about.
Even that night, when I knew multiple people, I felt at a loss.
This is also what happens when I arrive late and am sure I missed some sort of instruction.
I definitely need to find some way to master this inability of mine to be comfortable in large crowds.
Big crowds of people have always made me feel uneasy. I feel lost, unsure of where to sit or stand, and what to talk about.
Even that night, when I knew multiple people, I felt at a loss.
This is also what happens when I arrive late and am sure I missed some sort of instruction.
I definitely need to find some way to master this inability of mine to be comfortable in large crowds.
Written By Radhilde
March 2, 2019, 4:56 p.m.(9/2/1010 AR)
My family is crazy...crazy funny!
Written By Bhandn
March 2, 2019, 3:41 p.m.(9/2/1010 AR)
It's been a very long time since I've come to Arx and lingered for more than a few days of rest. Some parts are as I remember, but with all the rumors and stories flying around, I decided to walk around a bit.
It didn't take me long before I found myself at the plaza called Heroes Home. It has a particular significance to me: it was the place where I was first formally instructed in the purpose and creed of the Silver Order. As the heroes laid to rest fought to preserve Arvum, so do we fight to preserve Arvum's people. We are the watchers of the road: those who endeavor to keep them free of the blood of the innocents who journey, and those who uphold the peace of sanctuary granted.
It's difficult to believe that it's been more than thirty years since that day, yet my memory of the Hall is different from what I encountered upon visiting it today. There were changes, additions that I could not recall seeing before, and so I spent some time there to acquaint myself with them. I leave out a lot of the details. I don't know entirely how I feel about the more blatant changes, and so I write about the people.
While I did not know Lord Killian Ashford in life, that he was interred with high honors, with a statue made of him, spoke volumes. I cannot begin to imagine the grief his close family had, to hear of his passing. So young, and with so much potential. A part of me wishes I knew more, yet to ask detailed questions to learn more would be "insensitive," as Valena would say, and so I must resolve myself to hold a vigil, out of rememberance for him.
The other notable addition is the statue of the woman so named Copper. The Mage of Second Chances, the memorial called her. Why such a name? Was she the one who gave that second chance, or had she received one? No explanation for the name is given, when it could be either, more, or neither of those.
But who was she? The most the inscription has to say pertains to magic, of all things.
A hero of Arvum, to be placed alongside the others in the main hall, but there are so many questions and, I suspect, so little answers. And yet, despite the feeling that many of my questions may go unanswered, I cannot help but be drawn towards wanting to learn more about her. The more I think on why, the more I come to realize that in a very real sense, we both have sworn to undertake the same overall duty: the protection and welfare of others. For me, travelers. For her, all of Arvum. I cannot begin to imagine the burden of that. There were times it was difficult for me to cross even twenty miles without trouble.
I still wonder, though. For her to have such a remembrance erected, then surely /someone/ knew of her, to be able to declare her actions so publically, but who? This is the question that troubles me the most. That the statue remains, and is undefiled, suggests to me that its presence there is justified. This leads to other questions, and so I find myself increasingly wondering, wondering about just what has happened, and just how much I truly do not know.
I feel no shame in writing this. Courage is the path one treads to speak of and fight one's fears, I was told once. I have no intention of straying from that.
It didn't take me long before I found myself at the plaza called Heroes Home. It has a particular significance to me: it was the place where I was first formally instructed in the purpose and creed of the Silver Order. As the heroes laid to rest fought to preserve Arvum, so do we fight to preserve Arvum's people. We are the watchers of the road: those who endeavor to keep them free of the blood of the innocents who journey, and those who uphold the peace of sanctuary granted.
It's difficult to believe that it's been more than thirty years since that day, yet my memory of the Hall is different from what I encountered upon visiting it today. There were changes, additions that I could not recall seeing before, and so I spent some time there to acquaint myself with them. I leave out a lot of the details. I don't know entirely how I feel about the more blatant changes, and so I write about the people.
While I did not know Lord Killian Ashford in life, that he was interred with high honors, with a statue made of him, spoke volumes. I cannot begin to imagine the grief his close family had, to hear of his passing. So young, and with so much potential. A part of me wishes I knew more, yet to ask detailed questions to learn more would be "insensitive," as Valena would say, and so I must resolve myself to hold a vigil, out of rememberance for him.
The other notable addition is the statue of the woman so named Copper. The Mage of Second Chances, the memorial called her. Why such a name? Was she the one who gave that second chance, or had she received one? No explanation for the name is given, when it could be either, more, or neither of those.
But who was she? The most the inscription has to say pertains to magic, of all things.
A hero of Arvum, to be placed alongside the others in the main hall, but there are so many questions and, I suspect, so little answers. And yet, despite the feeling that many of my questions may go unanswered, I cannot help but be drawn towards wanting to learn more about her. The more I think on why, the more I come to realize that in a very real sense, we both have sworn to undertake the same overall duty: the protection and welfare of others. For me, travelers. For her, all of Arvum. I cannot begin to imagine the burden of that. There were times it was difficult for me to cross even twenty miles without trouble.
I still wonder, though. For her to have such a remembrance erected, then surely /someone/ knew of her, to be able to declare her actions so publically, but who? This is the question that troubles me the most. That the statue remains, and is undefiled, suggests to me that its presence there is justified. This leads to other questions, and so I find myself increasingly wondering, wondering about just what has happened, and just how much I truly do not know.
I feel no shame in writing this. Courage is the path one treads to speak of and fight one's fears, I was told once. I have no intention of straying from that.
Written By Ajax
March 2, 2019, 3:03 p.m.(9/2/1010 AR)
With the choice to reject both Cardia and the Empires rule, people grow uneasy will we go with Ashe or Brass now? That's the question, I got money on Brass even though I have already put my thoughts on that. We shall see the outcome.
Written By Ajax
March 2, 2019, 3:01 p.m.(9/2/1010 AR)
Relationship Note on Arcadia
Lady Leary,
I'm not a cheap mercenary, skill dictates price. Though, I would encourage you not to be impressed by that show. Many in this city stand that are more powerful then myself. Still, glad you enjoyed yourself.
I'm not a cheap mercenary, skill dictates price. Though, I would encourage you not to be impressed by that show. Many in this city stand that are more powerful then myself. Still, glad you enjoyed yourself.
Written By Zeriax
March 2, 2019, 2:46 p.m.(9/2/1010 AR)
I thought I would be able to drink Shard under the table. Maybe I was just drinking too fast. Or maybe it was because I never learn my lesson, and I ended up mixing whiskey, rum, and something sugary again. Regardless, I feel terrible. Palms sweaty, knees weak, arms are heavy. Sorry Whisper Natalia, there's vomit on my tunic already. It's mixed with...coloured confetti? My head is pounding. The whole crowd, it got so loud...the door was open, but they didn't throw me out. They dragged me ''into'' the barracks when I could no longer snap back to reality. How Valorous of them.
And glass! There were shards of ''glass'' sticking out of me this morning. Covered in blood, and I didn't even get in a fight. At least, I don't think I did. I can't remember, but my face does feel like it was kissed by a hammer, and I have two black eyes. There were...points I blacked out. There was a beautiful song I remember hearing the whole night. It was in my mind this morning when I awoke. The world was still spinning, which felt ''terrible'', but the song kept me company. As did...a white falcon? Deliverance? I remember writing to Princess Grayson that night. How did I ever manage to hold onto a quill? I think I might've tried to hug Deliverance and use the bird as a pillow at some point. That might explain why there are deep cuts all over my chest. UGH.
What did I WRITE? I might have even written to other people while I was inebriated beyond the point of no return. If anyone reading this received a strange letter from me that night, just know that I was most certainly ''not'' in my right mind at the time. Oh my gods. If any of you who are reading this received a letter from me at some point yesterday and it was strange, or poorly written, forgive me. I think I kept calling Shard a Puma. Maybe that's where I got these black eyes? That doesn't explain the splinters though. Did she smash a chair over my face? Anyone who was there who could fill me in on what I might have done or said, that would be much appreciated. Thank you.
And glass! There were shards of ''glass'' sticking out of me this morning. Covered in blood, and I didn't even get in a fight. At least, I don't think I did. I can't remember, but my face does feel like it was kissed by a hammer, and I have two black eyes. There were...points I blacked out. There was a beautiful song I remember hearing the whole night. It was in my mind this morning when I awoke. The world was still spinning, which felt ''terrible'', but the song kept me company. As did...a white falcon? Deliverance? I remember writing to Princess Grayson that night. How did I ever manage to hold onto a quill? I think I might've tried to hug Deliverance and use the bird as a pillow at some point. That might explain why there are deep cuts all over my chest. UGH.
What did I WRITE? I might have even written to other people while I was inebriated beyond the point of no return. If anyone reading this received a strange letter from me that night, just know that I was most certainly ''not'' in my right mind at the time. Oh my gods. If any of you who are reading this received a letter from me at some point yesterday and it was strange, or poorly written, forgive me. I think I kept calling Shard a Puma. Maybe that's where I got these black eyes? That doesn't explain the splinters though. Did she smash a chair over my face? Anyone who was there who could fill me in on what I might have done or said, that would be much appreciated. Thank you.
Please note that the scholars may take some time preparing your journal for others to read.