Written By Josephine
Aug. 29, 2018, 12:13 p.m.(6/25/1009 AR)
The amount of people who think it is a lark to try and sell an old woman on dwarves being real. Shame. Nothing but shame for them. I do not have the time to deal with their bamboozling protestations and assurances that a singular ibdividual managed to make it out of a mine where horrors awaited that culled others and was of sound enough mind. Shenanigans. Utter foolery. This Norman is a spinner of yarns far better than Mistress Petals wools. Ridiculous.
Written By Donato
Aug. 29, 2018, 12:11 p.m.(6/25/1009 AR)
I have had the most splendid of ideas! Well, perhaps it wasn't my idea, but the idea of two women who are clearly Corsairs in training. A small party, no clothes, masks, and a lot of rum. What could possibly go wrong?
Written By Monique
Aug. 29, 2018, 11:49 a.m.(6/25/1009 AR)
The Gilded Page Writing Contest closes in two days! I do hope people come down and vote for their favorite entry!
Written By Nuala
Aug. 29, 2018, 9:57 a.m.(6/25/1009 AR)
Arx. The capital beckoned to me at the twilight hour the ship finally moored at the docks. It has been months since I last walked the quays in the harbour. The last time I rushed through the rain to make another tight connection, for no sooner did the wallowing hulk of the Gull slump into her berth than the last ship for the Saffron Isles sought the turning tide. I'll not trust the Gull or any of her sister ships for a long time to come.
Every settlement turns out its best face at the onset of dark. The shadows conceal imperfections. The lantern and torch light warms even humble wood to an opulent glow. Now listen to me -- I start to sound like the poets in Tor. Arx burns with a special light all to itself though. Nothing compares to those lamps shining in the dark. It is not home here, but even I am not immune to the beauty. Those lamps drown the constellations out. For a time I will be content with these earthbound stars in my reach
Every settlement turns out its best face at the onset of dark. The shadows conceal imperfections. The lantern and torch light warms even humble wood to an opulent glow. Now listen to me -- I start to sound like the poets in Tor. Arx burns with a special light all to itself though. Nothing compares to those lamps shining in the dark. It is not home here, but even I am not immune to the beauty. Those lamps drown the constellations out. For a time I will be content with these earthbound stars in my reach
Written By Amanda
Aug. 29, 2018, 9:35 a.m.(6/25/1009 AR)
Whisper House hosted an introductory course to ballroom dancing last night, right in the Elysian Ballroom. With music provided by the Bard's College and hors d'oeuvre and wine provided by Whisper House, it was a decidedly well appointed affair. About half the attendees were somewhat seasoned dancers, which was just perfect, as they made fine partners for those that hadn't danced before. The real performance of the night was Princess Nuala Redrain, who looked simply majestic. Though I'll have to note Sir Jeffeth was her partner, and he surely helped.
Thanks one and all for attending. We will be having dancing lessons again, and in the meanwhile, should anyone wish private lessons they ought to contact Whisper House.
Thanks one and all for attending. We will be having dancing lessons again, and in the meanwhile, should anyone wish private lessons they ought to contact Whisper House.
Written By Gaston
Aug. 29, 2018, 6:44 a.m.(6/25/1009 AR)
Relationship Note on Ezekiel
I've only heard him play once, but both songs were beautiful. Reminded me of back home, or at least one did. I should hire him to play for a family and friends dinner.
Written By Jyri
Aug. 29, 2018, 6:30 a.m.(6/25/1009 AR)
Yesterday was an all around great day. Now I am wondering what bad thing will happen. Best be wary.
Written By Lisica
Aug. 29, 2018, 6:17 a.m.(6/25/1009 AR)
Have been busy working in the Hold's house, helping set it up. It was a little sparse before, now it is better. I already look forwards to winter when we will make more use of those huge hearths.
... I wonder if one might be able to acquire a nice, large wild boar or two for that occasion. It would be nice to have a little winter feast.
... I wonder if one might be able to acquire a nice, large wild boar or two for that occasion. It would be nice to have a little winter feast.
Written By Jyri
Aug. 29, 2018, 5:10 a.m.(6/25/1009 AR)
I got a spear again. I plan on leaning on it a lot.
Written By Shard
Aug. 29, 2018, 4:55 a.m.(6/25/1009 AR)
There's a children's story from my tribe that goes something like this:
A long, long time ago, probably before humans had started counting, Winter came to the North so hungry that it gobbled up all the green things, all the bushes and leaves and every last store of food. It ate the mice and the squirrels, and the sparrows and the rabbits, it chased the boars away, and it started gnawing so fiercely on the herds that they too began disappearing, until even the greatest hunters were thin and starving or already frozen and dead.
Old Wolf was no longer among those greatest hunters, but he was so old and so stubborn that he was not yet dead. Even though Winter howled and bit at him, and it had been many days since he'd last tasted so much as a rat, he continued pushing on through the snow, determined to keep moving until he either found something to kill and eat or dropped from exhaustion and starvation.
So long had he been trudging alone through the howling winds that when the sound first came, his ears didn't pick it out. "Brother, brother!" came a cawing from surprisingly nearby. "So good to have found you."
Old Wolf looked and saw a very thin looking black bird peering at him from the dead branch of a nearby tree. "Go away," he snarled. "I'm not dead yet. Wait a while for your meal, bonepicker."
"Oh, brother," called Raven, from her perch. "You misunderstand. I'm only here to tell you that you're going the wrong way."
"What do you mean by that?" asked Old Wolf, feeling the chill start to work its way into his bones now that he'd stopped moving. "I'm going my way. It's as good a way as any."
"But if you come this way," said Raven, "We can both eat well tonight."
Now Old Wolf had met many ravens and known none of them, which was the way of things in his time. "I have no patience for your tricks," he growled. "Or your thieving, or your chatter. Leave me alone, or I'll eat you next." But he made it only two steps more before Raven landed on his back and bit his tail.
Enraged and bewildered, Old Wolf whirled around and snapped at the big black bird. He got three feathers for his trouble, and a heavy peck on the top of his head. And so humiliated, Old Wolf chased Raven through the snows, his hunt forgotten, until the sun dipped below the horizon and cold tore at them both. At last they reached a copse of dead trees, where Raven abruptly flew upward and Old Wolf nearly tripped over the half-frozen carcass of the largest elk he'd ever laid eyes on.
While Old Wolf was close to collapsing, his teeth were as sharp as ever, and he tore open the dead elk without a single further thought, eating and eating until he could eat no more. When he finally moved away, his belly full and his jaws coated in blood, Raven swept down from where she had been watching and proceeded to eat a feast of her own where he'd left off.
"Why did you lead me here?" Old Wolf finally thought to ask, once they'd both had a second meal the next day.
"I wasn't strong enough to get through the hide myself," Raven replied.
"I see," said Old Wolf. "You are sincere when your stomach is involved."
"Of course," said Raven.
Old Wolf and Raven hunted together until Winter at last grew tired and retreated, but when the sun and the green returned, they saw no reason to stop. This became the new way of things.
A long, long time ago, probably before humans had started counting, Winter came to the North so hungry that it gobbled up all the green things, all the bushes and leaves and every last store of food. It ate the mice and the squirrels, and the sparrows and the rabbits, it chased the boars away, and it started gnawing so fiercely on the herds that they too began disappearing, until even the greatest hunters were thin and starving or already frozen and dead.
Old Wolf was no longer among those greatest hunters, but he was so old and so stubborn that he was not yet dead. Even though Winter howled and bit at him, and it had been many days since he'd last tasted so much as a rat, he continued pushing on through the snow, determined to keep moving until he either found something to kill and eat or dropped from exhaustion and starvation.
So long had he been trudging alone through the howling winds that when the sound first came, his ears didn't pick it out. "Brother, brother!" came a cawing from surprisingly nearby. "So good to have found you."
Old Wolf looked and saw a very thin looking black bird peering at him from the dead branch of a nearby tree. "Go away," he snarled. "I'm not dead yet. Wait a while for your meal, bonepicker."
"Oh, brother," called Raven, from her perch. "You misunderstand. I'm only here to tell you that you're going the wrong way."
"What do you mean by that?" asked Old Wolf, feeling the chill start to work its way into his bones now that he'd stopped moving. "I'm going my way. It's as good a way as any."
"But if you come this way," said Raven, "We can both eat well tonight."
Now Old Wolf had met many ravens and known none of them, which was the way of things in his time. "I have no patience for your tricks," he growled. "Or your thieving, or your chatter. Leave me alone, or I'll eat you next." But he made it only two steps more before Raven landed on his back and bit his tail.
Enraged and bewildered, Old Wolf whirled around and snapped at the big black bird. He got three feathers for his trouble, and a heavy peck on the top of his head. And so humiliated, Old Wolf chased Raven through the snows, his hunt forgotten, until the sun dipped below the horizon and cold tore at them both. At last they reached a copse of dead trees, where Raven abruptly flew upward and Old Wolf nearly tripped over the half-frozen carcass of the largest elk he'd ever laid eyes on.
While Old Wolf was close to collapsing, his teeth were as sharp as ever, and he tore open the dead elk without a single further thought, eating and eating until he could eat no more. When he finally moved away, his belly full and his jaws coated in blood, Raven swept down from where she had been watching and proceeded to eat a feast of her own where he'd left off.
"Why did you lead me here?" Old Wolf finally thought to ask, once they'd both had a second meal the next day.
"I wasn't strong enough to get through the hide myself," Raven replied.
"I see," said Old Wolf. "You are sincere when your stomach is involved."
"Of course," said Raven.
Old Wolf and Raven hunted together until Winter at last grew tired and retreated, but when the sun and the green returned, they saw no reason to stop. This became the new way of things.
Written By Marian
Aug. 29, 2018, 2:26 a.m.(6/24/1009 AR)
Relationship Note on Monique
Little sister, today you were /my/ hero...
There, it's written for the all to see. Recorded in the annuals of history.
There, it's written for the all to see. Recorded in the annuals of history.
Written By Vittoria
Aug. 29, 2018, 2:25 a.m.(6/24/1009 AR)
I believe that silk, seasilk, aeterna, umbra are overrated in the city of Arx. Everybody desires to wear clothes of such luxury.
Not the fabric but the design offers glamour, in my personal opinion. I have made beautiful gowns and coats from linen, homespun and wool. I have two linen attires for sale even right now. Both of these gowns would be fitting to the Princess by the design.
Other benefits of cheaper fabrics are that they can be worn for longer time, they do not lose the color so fast and they can keep us warm during autumn and winter seasons. I really would wish to acquire more commissions from a common fabrics. Sometimes the true beauty is simplicity!
Wool, homespun, linen or other common fabrics are simply underestimated.
Not the fabric but the design offers glamour, in my personal opinion. I have made beautiful gowns and coats from linen, homespun and wool. I have two linen attires for sale even right now. Both of these gowns would be fitting to the Princess by the design.
Other benefits of cheaper fabrics are that they can be worn for longer time, they do not lose the color so fast and they can keep us warm during autumn and winter seasons. I really would wish to acquire more commissions from a common fabrics. Sometimes the true beauty is simplicity!
Wool, homespun, linen or other common fabrics are simply underestimated.
Written By Marian
Aug. 29, 2018, 2:22 a.m.(6/24/1009 AR)
Relationship Note on Juniper
Thank you for providing your much needed and skilled services to this delicate matter.
In a few fell strokes of your quill you accomplished something that I have struggled with for over a year to resolve. This is a personal lesson to me. Perhaps a sign that I should seek assistance in learning the finer points of diplomacy. Or at the very least be better about asking for help when it is needed.
In a few fell strokes of your quill you accomplished something that I have struggled with for over a year to resolve. This is a personal lesson to me. Perhaps a sign that I should seek assistance in learning the finer points of diplomacy. Or at the very least be better about asking for help when it is needed.
Written By Reigna
Aug. 29, 2018, 1:52 a.m.(6/24/1009 AR)
Relationship Note on Asger
That was well done.
Written By Tikva
Aug. 29, 2018, 1:01 a.m.(6/24/1009 AR)
I am relieved to see the grace with which the Crovanes embraced responsibility and dignity today. I would note here in the same spirit an apology for my hasty words of condemnation. Though my concern was true and I do not precisely regret it, I believe that reaching out to the Whispers with open hearts and a willingness to accept their mistakes was the absolutely proper course, and I commend them for so doing.
I hope that in the future we will all be more willing to seek the guidance of cooler heads when our tempers rise.
This has also served as a reminder for me of just how wise it was when I signed a contract between House Grayson and the Whisper House. Don't leave home (for the Archives) without one...
I hope that in the future we will all be more willing to seek the guidance of cooler heads when our tempers rise.
This has also served as a reminder for me of just how wise it was when I signed a contract between House Grayson and the Whisper House. Don't leave home (for the Archives) without one...
Written By Lumen
Aug. 29, 2018, 12:48 a.m.(6/24/1009 AR)
Relationship Note on Juniper
Much credit to the Duke and Duchess for extending their hands, open-palmed, and to our Juniper Whisper for placing hers compassionately atop. Today, we trusted in this woman to lead by example -and to take the reins on a heartful matter with no easy resolution in sight. She did not buckle under the weight nor lash out, finger pointed. Though there's still plenty more to do, I think we can all breathe a great sigh of relief knowing that there is someone here to guide us.
Written By Tabitha
Aug. 28, 2018, 10:31 p.m.(6/24/1009 AR)
Relationship Note on Sparte
I agree completely. I believe that the best art is that which is an expression of the soul and the manifestation of the imagination. It saddens me when others fear to paint because they lack technical skill. Nobody should be afraid to create.
Written By Sparte
Aug. 28, 2018, 10 p.m.(6/24/1009 AR)
I've helped paint a number of rocks now for various people, though I always find a special beauty in a rock painted by someone with unsure hands. They hold part of the person's unique personality in the stone. I wish more people would try art and not worry about being the best at it. We all have the passion to create something in us, I'm pretty sure.
Written By Aureth
Aug. 28, 2018, 9:41 p.m.(6/24/1009 AR)
Relationship Note on Khanne
A joint measure in memoriam between the Faith and the Spirit Walkers in honor of Lady Eirlys sounds like a lovely idea to me.
Written By Karadoc
Aug. 28, 2018, 9:08 p.m.(6/24/1009 AR)
It seems like my previously loyal, well-trained companion finally had enough of my incessant need to have them deliver my messages and found a new home --
So it goes.
That blasted cat.
So it goes.
That blasted cat.
Please note that the scholars may take some time preparing your journal for others to read.