Written By Lucita
Nov. 1, 2018, 7:54 p.m.(12/1/1009 AR)
Relationship Note on Sebastian
As I eye the mountain of paperwork facing me I deal with the urgent, after taking a moment to admire the scribbles made by my twins though not sure if they were intentionally created or if they evaded the nanny long enough to find a charred twig in the ash bucket and some parchment dropped on the floor. Either way, they are trying to draw like 'Bas'. At least I think that is what they are trying to say. Either way, 'Bas' hopefully will keep paints, charcoal, and any other artistic media well away from little hands when they are anywhere near Juliana's and my nice silks.
Written By Alrec
Nov. 1, 2018, 7:45 p.m.(12/1/1009 AR)
With that 10,000 silver fee, I hope they atleast scrap the barnacles off the hull of my ship.
Written By Sabine
Nov. 1, 2018, 6:59 p.m.(12/1/1009 AR)
I learned early that my happiness sprang from what I could control and that those things, the controllable, were never external to me. I could not be made truly happy by the fine clothes or gifts I was given, for their details were selected by others. I could not be made happy by my family, for though I care for them, their place in my life came of chance and their choices, their actions, their decisions were their own, separate of my preferences. I cannot be made happy by what is around me, for it may change at any given moment to a less pleasing configuration. Items decay, circumstances change, people are the heroes of their own stories and not of mine, and when they've completed their arc, they die.
All of this is endurable because I am content with what I claim control over: myself. I am content to be happy because I choose to be so, my thoughts aligned to my purpose and my feelings following orderly behind, as they should.
All of this is endurable because I am content with what I claim control over: myself. I am content to be happy because I choose to be so, my thoughts aligned to my purpose and my feelings following orderly behind, as they should.
Written By Alrec
Nov. 1, 2018, 6:42 p.m.(12/1/1009 AR)
You silks and your oath. It is especially funny when a lesson a morality comes from slave-traders.
Written By Kenna
Nov. 1, 2018, 6:20 p.m.(12/1/1009 AR)
Relationship Note on Calaudrin
I've decided that it really wasn't fair to be called a lunatic in a classified today.
See, Deputy Commander (Sir) Calaudrin Estardes wrote me this:
"Alright, Whitehawk. You know any toymakers? You seem like you'd know some."
Which, of course, I know that some people occasionally make toys. In an ATTEMPT TO BE HELPFUL I went out and found a few toys for the Deputy Commander. If he was asking me then he really must have been in need - I know how much he hates to be a bother to people.
Instead of being greatful though, he DUMPED THE TOYS in the city center. This was quite rude.
I have rescued the toys and will make sure they go to PROPER homes, or are sold for a good cause. Like getting more toys for children.
Really, it was all very logical and not at all a cause for name calling.
Weirdly though, I still like him. There's just something about a grumpy person that just... it makes sense.
See, Deputy Commander (Sir) Calaudrin Estardes wrote me this:
"Alright, Whitehawk. You know any toymakers? You seem like you'd know some."
Which, of course, I know that some people occasionally make toys. In an ATTEMPT TO BE HELPFUL I went out and found a few toys for the Deputy Commander. If he was asking me then he really must have been in need - I know how much he hates to be a bother to people.
Instead of being greatful though, he DUMPED THE TOYS in the city center. This was quite rude.
I have rescued the toys and will make sure they go to PROPER homes, or are sold for a good cause. Like getting more toys for children.
Really, it was all very logical and not at all a cause for name calling.
Weirdly though, I still like him. There's just something about a grumpy person that just... it makes sense.
Written By Fortunato
Nov. 1, 2018, 5:36 p.m.(12/1/1009 AR)
Relationship Note on Preston
I am here to speak for doubt.
I am not here to speak for viciousness, for tyranny, for brutality, for sloth. But I will speak for doubt.
Do you really know the people you think you know? Are your visions of the gods too narrow? What do you rely on that is too fragile? What do you rely on that is not really there? The gods are greater and broader than we often speak of them. The world encompasses much. Even we may be greater than we expect.
There is the doubt that paralyzes, that corrodes, that makes us weak. And there is the doubt that leads us to look into the mirror and will ourselves brave. We who never thought we were that at all. We can speak of doubt as a chink in one's armor, or we can speak of doubt as realizing it was there, and that it can be repaired. Next year, if you and I still live, Preston, I'd like to take you to the masquerade.
I am not here to speak for viciousness, for tyranny, for brutality, for sloth. But I will speak for doubt.
Do you really know the people you think you know? Are your visions of the gods too narrow? What do you rely on that is too fragile? What do you rely on that is not really there? The gods are greater and broader than we often speak of them. The world encompasses much. Even we may be greater than we expect.
There is the doubt that paralyzes, that corrodes, that makes us weak. And there is the doubt that leads us to look into the mirror and will ourselves brave. We who never thought we were that at all. We can speak of doubt as a chink in one's armor, or we can speak of doubt as realizing it was there, and that it can be repaired. Next year, if you and I still live, Preston, I'd like to take you to the masquerade.
Written By Jhond
Nov. 1, 2018, 2:47 p.m.(12/1/1009 AR)
Didn't die slowly and painfully. Was a good night.
Written By Nurie
Nov. 1, 2018, 1:40 p.m.(12/1/1009 AR)
Last night felt like walking in a dream.
I held a pool of moonlight silver in my arms as I waited for my beloved lady, and to see her dancing proud and beautiful beyond compare amongst such fantastically clad revelers brought tears of joy to my eyes, even though it made me feel half a child again, sneaking into the shadows to watch my mother's parties from places unseen.
The Dark Reflection touched my face, as cold as ice, and fire in its wake. I danced with a handsome Count, and we managed to not mangle anyone too badly, and my heart was lifted further still. When we parted and I watched more dancers, the flute of wine that I took tasted sweeter than a lover's first kiss.
But then He asked for tribute and gifts. I was stirred, but I thought what could I give? And then I felt the bloom against my skin, that I have carried since the tomb was sealed. I gave Him my fear at her passing, the grief that clouds my view of the mirror and steals my life and my path forward to protect and honor the ones that remain. He did not turn aside such a poor and humble gift, and His touch was a blessing.
I woke this morning with my hands still glowing with soft rainbows from all that ground pearls and paint that we needed to scrub from my lady's skin and comb out of her hair last night, and instead of feeling of that tomb-flower pressed to me, instead there was light and silk and less pain, though I think there will surely always be a pang now and then.
Oh, Dark Reflection, may I remember to keep my eyes clear and open to what is before me now. May I know when to cut, and when to be cut; clothe me in guile and cunning, wisdom and love, my mind clinging to no thing and untroubled, that I may move with suppleness and resiliency between the two spheres that I can neither fully claim, nor fully deny.
I held a pool of moonlight silver in my arms as I waited for my beloved lady, and to see her dancing proud and beautiful beyond compare amongst such fantastically clad revelers brought tears of joy to my eyes, even though it made me feel half a child again, sneaking into the shadows to watch my mother's parties from places unseen.
The Dark Reflection touched my face, as cold as ice, and fire in its wake. I danced with a handsome Count, and we managed to not mangle anyone too badly, and my heart was lifted further still. When we parted and I watched more dancers, the flute of wine that I took tasted sweeter than a lover's first kiss.
But then He asked for tribute and gifts. I was stirred, but I thought what could I give? And then I felt the bloom against my skin, that I have carried since the tomb was sealed. I gave Him my fear at her passing, the grief that clouds my view of the mirror and steals my life and my path forward to protect and honor the ones that remain. He did not turn aside such a poor and humble gift, and His touch was a blessing.
I woke this morning with my hands still glowing with soft rainbows from all that ground pearls and paint that we needed to scrub from my lady's skin and comb out of her hair last night, and instead of feeling of that tomb-flower pressed to me, instead there was light and silk and less pain, though I think there will surely always be a pang now and then.
Oh, Dark Reflection, may I remember to keep my eyes clear and open to what is before me now. May I know when to cut, and when to be cut; clothe me in guile and cunning, wisdom and love, my mind clinging to no thing and untroubled, that I may move with suppleness and resiliency between the two spheres that I can neither fully claim, nor fully deny.
Written By Joscelin
Nov. 1, 2018, 1:22 p.m.(12/1/1009 AR)
It still hurts to smile, and laughing? Laughing is a fleeting escape; I come back to myself and I'm still alone.
Written By Isabetta
Nov. 1, 2018, 12:28 p.m.(12/1/1009 AR)
Where the pack of wolves together? That's all I want to know.
Written By Quenia
Nov. 1, 2018, 12:18 p.m.(12/1/1009 AR)
Life is full of disappointments, and I am certainly racking up my fair share.
Written By Elloise
Nov. 1, 2018, 11:42 a.m.(12/1/1009 AR)
I didn't think that I - me, this lump of person and the space that the lump occupies - would be so BUSY. There's so much work going on inside. Building and creating, I suppose. I keep referring to the texts and trying to take my own notes. It's hard to be objective about it. I keep telling myself this because these days I don't MOVE the way I want to and I feel it bubbling on the surface and under my skin and it's like a buzz-buzz-buzz of MOVE. That staying still is just the worst, but I need to. I need to rest. I need to practice still. I need to let the building happen and be patient while it does. When I get like that - when everything's buzzy and I can't focus and the restlessness becomes so bad that I start to think about naming it - I go to the Shrine. I sit down. I practice stillness. I breathe and fidget and fuss and allow every bit of it to drain away until I heard nothing but spiders weaving, and air, and the steady beat of heart with the fluttering of someone - someones. My little birds. Bless the Mother and the Queen - taking the stillness learned in death and applying it to life.
(Don't tell Cheese, Scholar, that I already have names picked out. OR do I? Baby, or baby not.
Yes, that is a PUN.)
(Don't tell Cheese, Scholar, that I already have names picked out. OR do I? Baby, or baby not.
Yes, that is a PUN.)
Written By Turo
Nov. 1, 2018, 11:40 a.m.(12/1/1009 AR)
Relationship Note on Alrec
Maybe your reputation would be better if you hadn't betrayed your oaths and murdered your crew, you piece of shit.
Written By Aureth
Nov. 1, 2018, 11:26 a.m.(12/1/1009 AR)
What does it mean, to be a disciple?
There are many men and women who are devout, who follow the paths of the gods as best they can, yet do not ask to serve in this role. Some do it because their love for the concept of the god is so powerful that they wish to demonstrate it through works and deeds. Some do it because their role in life enables them to give back, and they recognize the honor in spending their privilege so.
Yet it is important to remember that a discipleship is service. It is something that is done for the Faith of the Pantheon, for the community and the laity.
It is not, and never has been, an entitlement, to be granted as a gift or touted like a prize. It is work. Labor of your hands, your heart, your mind.
If you serve out of love, if you serve out of duty, if you serve out of a desire to give back, if you serve because you enjoy the social connection and the benefit of spending time and energy upon and with the congregation of your temple, and you reap the rewards of association with the Faith, of community and love and grace-- I mean, it's not really for me to tell you why you serve.
But one thing your service will remain is a privilege, not a right. You don't get to decide the borders of that privilege. You don't determine your own role within the Faith or your own place within your discipleship.
Discipleship is, at its fundament, an act of humility. It is an act of submission to the gods and to the Dominus. It is a humility that is cleansing for many palates, in lives ripe with wealth and privilege, to reach back and give unto others what you were born into, and I honor you for it.
But when you let go of that humility, you may also find that you are letting go of your discipleship.
There are many men and women who are devout, who follow the paths of the gods as best they can, yet do not ask to serve in this role. Some do it because their love for the concept of the god is so powerful that they wish to demonstrate it through works and deeds. Some do it because their role in life enables them to give back, and they recognize the honor in spending their privilege so.
Yet it is important to remember that a discipleship is service. It is something that is done for the Faith of the Pantheon, for the community and the laity.
It is not, and never has been, an entitlement, to be granted as a gift or touted like a prize. It is work. Labor of your hands, your heart, your mind.
If you serve out of love, if you serve out of duty, if you serve out of a desire to give back, if you serve because you enjoy the social connection and the benefit of spending time and energy upon and with the congregation of your temple, and you reap the rewards of association with the Faith, of community and love and grace-- I mean, it's not really for me to tell you why you serve.
But one thing your service will remain is a privilege, not a right. You don't get to decide the borders of that privilege. You don't determine your own role within the Faith or your own place within your discipleship.
Discipleship is, at its fundament, an act of humility. It is an act of submission to the gods and to the Dominus. It is a humility that is cleansing for many palates, in lives ripe with wealth and privilege, to reach back and give unto others what you were born into, and I honor you for it.
But when you let go of that humility, you may also find that you are letting go of your discipleship.
Written By Harlex
Nov. 1, 2018, 11:18 a.m.(12/1/1009 AR)
I was asked once why we rode to defend the Lodge. There is a complex answer, reasons beyond my knowing, but I'm a sellsword first and foremost--I go to fight, because I am being paid to go and fight.
Yet in my few trips there and back, in preparation, I would stop on the stone bridge which arched over the river and I would catch myself listening to the trees and I would see the stone edifice crawling with ivy--with life.
I would, between securing supply caravans and so forth, go to the orchards.
Or the springs.
I would stand at a safe distance and look to the flower fields.
I looked at it all as though it were far more than I deserved to behold. A beauty unmarred. Whole. Holy.
And I thought about something said to me, many years ago, by a very old, very strange man who rode in the Crows.
He said this:
"In the end, Harlex Valtyr, only beauty will save this world."
We were given this land. We war and bleed across it and we turn up fields and burn and salt the earth where our enemies fall. We give alms, we pound shiny stones to coin and we would choke our brothers for a handful of it. We give a thousand reasons to chop down the tree, another thousand for the slaying and skinning of the deer.
We can be consumptive, destructive, and irritable creatures by our nature.
I count myself among the worst. The dark things. Those aspects of ourselves.
But all that has happened has put in me a notion--that if I can help hold the gates then maybe, just maybe, I bring that old man's words a little closer to reality. Maybe I give beauty a chance to do what it needs to do.
And that's about as much a reason a swordsman needs to fight as any.
A chance to make all that violence mean something. I don't know, these thoughts felt worth recording.
Yet in my few trips there and back, in preparation, I would stop on the stone bridge which arched over the river and I would catch myself listening to the trees and I would see the stone edifice crawling with ivy--with life.
I would, between securing supply caravans and so forth, go to the orchards.
Or the springs.
I would stand at a safe distance and look to the flower fields.
I looked at it all as though it were far more than I deserved to behold. A beauty unmarred. Whole. Holy.
And I thought about something said to me, many years ago, by a very old, very strange man who rode in the Crows.
He said this:
"In the end, Harlex Valtyr, only beauty will save this world."
We were given this land. We war and bleed across it and we turn up fields and burn and salt the earth where our enemies fall. We give alms, we pound shiny stones to coin and we would choke our brothers for a handful of it. We give a thousand reasons to chop down the tree, another thousand for the slaying and skinning of the deer.
We can be consumptive, destructive, and irritable creatures by our nature.
I count myself among the worst. The dark things. Those aspects of ourselves.
But all that has happened has put in me a notion--that if I can help hold the gates then maybe, just maybe, I bring that old man's words a little closer to reality. Maybe I give beauty a chance to do what it needs to do.
And that's about as much a reason a swordsman needs to fight as any.
A chance to make all that violence mean something. I don't know, these thoughts felt worth recording.
Written By Arianna
Nov. 1, 2018, 11:07 a.m.(12/1/1009 AR)
Relationship Note on Karadoc
A spider's web may seem strong, but it has many weaknesses as well and cunning flies are most certainly one of them. On the surface, it seems sturdy and intricate. This is the same for those who seek protection from other beings or people, rather than find strength in themselves. Those supports may seem to be helping, but they are based on a weak foundation. Like a spider's web, it is not sturdy on its own. It is frail and prone to damage despite its complicated appearance. One must be careful and depend upon cunning when making deals with spiders for even enterprising flies can tangle a spider in its own web.
Written By Elora
Nov. 1, 2018, 9:40 a.m.(12/1/1009 AR)
Relationship Note on Lys
I, for one, would prefer that you not throw yourself into life threatening situations! I would suggest that you take up knitting to help fill your time, but I fear for where those needles might end up.
Written By Mikani
Nov. 1, 2018, 9:22 a.m.(12/1/1009 AR)
You never lose by loving. You always lose by holding back.
Written By Rymarr
Nov. 1, 2018, 8:30 a.m.(11/28/1009 AR)
Relationship Note on Jyri
Patsy has been in my study for at least an hour, laughing hysterically at this piece of artwork that was done by Master Jyri Tersk. I do believe that Patsy may have found his new favorite. It's good to see him finding something that he enjoys, he brings him peace and contentment.
Written By Victus
Nov. 1, 2018, 8:17 a.m.(11/28/1009 AR)
The one night of the year we keep the mirrors covered and the doors firmly locked at the Thrax Estate. Red skies are nothing to fuck with.
Please note that the scholars may take some time preparing your journal for others to read.