Written By Sameera
May 7, 2017, 9:35 p.m.(6/4/1006 AR)
Things are going well with my village plans. Despite things.
Will be helping fix the wall as much as I can.
Will be helping fix the wall as much as I can.
Written By Kahlana
May 7, 2017, 9:12 p.m.(6/4/1006 AR)
Relationship Note on Edward
You should be given a title, Defending the Redrain Princesses, and Commanding your forces. Thrax should be proud.
Written By Estaban
May 7, 2017, 9:07 p.m.(6/4/1006 AR)
On the ramparts I meet a brave young prince, I had meet him once at a event that Archduke Niccolo had. I had asked to make the tide breaker so I had the young Prince dance with my sister Lady Arcelia.
I think it was the Gods who had put us together once again so that I could watch his back and he mine. His family should be proud of him, he found with great courage and great heart.
This one of the reasons why I could not allow for the monster to take him, I did not think of myself or my safety all I could think of was not losing such a brave soul who has a promising future.
I think it was the Gods who had put us together once again so that I could watch his back and he mine. His family should be proud of him, he found with great courage and great heart.
This one of the reasons why I could not allow for the monster to take him, I did not think of myself or my safety all I could think of was not losing such a brave soul who has a promising future.
Written By Shadow
May 7, 2017, 8:59 p.m.(6/4/1006 AR)
Relationship Note on Sasha
~Written in Northlands Shav~
This one came into the shop looking to get a dress and lowcut boots. I helped her and now she has asked that I teach her my language. I am not sure about this, But I have agreed to help so long as she also learns some of our ways. She seems to want to explore and believes it will help her, I guess only the spirits know if she will do well in this path. But perhaps she is made for it.
This one came into the shop looking to get a dress and lowcut boots. I helped her and now she has asked that I teach her my language. I am not sure about this, But I have agreed to help so long as she also learns some of our ways. She seems to want to explore and believes it will help her, I guess only the spirits know if she will do well in this path. But perhaps she is made for it.
Written By Ulfric
May 7, 2017, 8:59 p.m.(6/4/1006 AR)
Relationship Note on Valerion
How does someone so pretty throw hands so hard? Boy has hands like a dainty maiden but uses them like they were bricks of meat. His hair isn't too bad either...
Written By Darren
May 7, 2017, 8:59 p.m.(6/4/1006 AR)
Based on my experience, it takes approximately five flasks of whiskey and one stunningly intelligent, gorgeous woman as your date to suffer through a Valardin wedding ceremony in Sanctum. You're welcome, reader, for the tip, in the event you ever have to attend one yourself.
Of course, in the event you /are/ attending a wedding ceremony in Sanctum in the near future, do be careful of the mutant things that creep in the forest. Ensure your party is equipped with at least one alarcite-wielding Lady, one Greenmarcher-turned-Prince archer, one world-exploring Griffin, one new bride, one elk-riding shaman warrioress, and one ass-kicking Princess on horseback and you will do just fine. Just fine, indeed.
Of course, in the event you /are/ attending a wedding ceremony in Sanctum in the near future, do be careful of the mutant things that creep in the forest. Ensure your party is equipped with at least one alarcite-wielding Lady, one Greenmarcher-turned-Prince archer, one world-exploring Griffin, one new bride, one elk-riding shaman warrioress, and one ass-kicking Princess on horseback and you will do just fine. Just fine, indeed.
Written By Killian
May 7, 2017, 8:58 p.m.(6/4/1006 AR)
Relationship Note on Lark
She said yes!
Written By Ulfric
May 7, 2017, 8:58 p.m.(6/4/1006 AR)
I really should've known better than to toil with Royals. I would think without the hardy upbringing, they wouldn't hit as hard as they do. Well fuck me, even the ladies are leaving me dented. I need to sharpen my teeth on some proper etiquette it seems.
Written By Darrow
May 7, 2017, 8:31 p.m.(6/4/1006 AR)
I felt energized, in a rush. Alive.
The press of the Shav's, each one's face and blood blurring into the next.
The Bringer - a battered mess, and the marines, like a storm of death.
Pity that the siege ended.
The press of the Shav's, each one's face and blood blurring into the next.
The Bringer - a battered mess, and the marines, like a storm of death.
Pity that the siege ended.
Written By Leta
May 7, 2017, 8:18 p.m.(6/4/1006 AR)
Relationship Note on Aureth
This is a song I am working on.
Brand was a sad moping sort,
All a-whinin' back and forth,
'Cause he'd lost his pretty dollie.
All 'cause someone stole his toy,
And took away poor Brand's joy:
"If I'm not, then no one's jolly."
So then Silence came along,
But to their awf'ly quiet song,
We replied with one more hearty.
And with bones singing like flutes,
Toes a-rattlin' in their boots,
All the dead showed up to the party.
'Cause the Queen rose up a throng,
For she rather likes a song,
With an end and a beginning.
And though some of them did smell,
The dead could fight rather well,
And keep Brand's poor slaves from winning.
Brother Aureth, he did lead them,
Though he risked a hardy beatin',
To make folk's hopes not so gray.
And though Brands slaves were many,
We did kick them in the fanny,
And we held our ground that day.
I ought to add some rhymes for other folk that were there, which were plenty, and some lived and some died. And maybe I'll add some lines to say how it ended with the paladins and the gods and all but I don't rightly know what happened there, so this is just a song about what I saw at the graveyard with my own two eyes that the dirt shall have one day.
There was dead folk fighting to my left and to my right, and that's a sight to see and it shows the gods work in funny ways.
Brand was a sad moping sort,
All a-whinin' back and forth,
'Cause he'd lost his pretty dollie.
All 'cause someone stole his toy,
And took away poor Brand's joy:
"If I'm not, then no one's jolly."
So then Silence came along,
But to their awf'ly quiet song,
We replied with one more hearty.
And with bones singing like flutes,
Toes a-rattlin' in their boots,
All the dead showed up to the party.
'Cause the Queen rose up a throng,
For she rather likes a song,
With an end and a beginning.
And though some of them did smell,
The dead could fight rather well,
And keep Brand's poor slaves from winning.
Brother Aureth, he did lead them,
Though he risked a hardy beatin',
To make folk's hopes not so gray.
And though Brands slaves were many,
We did kick them in the fanny,
And we held our ground that day.
I ought to add some rhymes for other folk that were there, which were plenty, and some lived and some died. And maybe I'll add some lines to say how it ended with the paladins and the gods and all but I don't rightly know what happened there, so this is just a song about what I saw at the graveyard with my own two eyes that the dirt shall have one day.
There was dead folk fighting to my left and to my right, and that's a sight to see and it shows the gods work in funny ways.
Written By Luca
May 7, 2017, 8:17 p.m.(6/4/1006 AR)
The battle was glorious even if I barely touched any Bringers amidst the shav hordes. I almost got hit at one point even! And I suppose its good we were able to help hold the Redrain and Thrax positions too. And its always wonderful to see Ribbons in action. More so now that she's my wife. The after battle traditions we're forming make even my lack of new skulls for my collection totally worth it.
Written By Saira
May 7, 2017, 8:09 p.m.(6/4/1006 AR)
Dear Garrion,
I sit here in my chamber, with the morning sun on my face and hair, a pot of tea at my elbow and a warm blanket about my shoulders, and still I shiver. I feel a bone numbing cold instilled through fear. I can still hear the reverberations of battle, distant, but unmistakable, from where I hid beneath my bed.
That feeling of loss returned while I lay there, and I have begun to wonder if I have purposefully forgotten something crucial in my past. Was someone lost to me in battle? Why do I have this feeling of abandonment that insinuates itself into my heart at the moments when I feel most vulnerable. First, when I arrived, in the dead of night where all vulnerabilities are most powerful, and then again, while hiding under my bed and praying that Armel, my only real comfort here, was safe while he fought.
I wish I could say what happened. I wish I could say I understand all of it. I only know what I was told, and such things are not things that should be placed into a letter all can see. Suffice it to say, perhaps I had good reason to regress, to hide beneath my bed like a child as a nightmare pounded on our doors.
My favorite brother, just two years my senior, rode in from Bastion before the battle. He wanted to see how I was doing. I cannot even hide the truth from him; I am not doing very well. I am lonely here, and I am afraid. Now, more so than ever. What were mother and father thinking when they loosed me into the world like a bird from a nest to which it was familiar?
I am the seventh. I once believed seven to be a lucky number. I was freed from much of the responsibilities my siblings faced, and perhaps that made me unaware, too complacent in my isolated world. There is strength within me, this I know. I am a Grayson. I just wish it was a bit easier to find.
Especially now, when everything is so tenuous. How many tomorrows do we have left? How many laters? How many suns will rise before the end? Can we stave off that end, one faithful soldier at a time? Even so, at what cost? Will a victory truly be a victory if we lose too much, too many in the process?
These questions whisper through my mind, catching on the edges of my thoughts like licking flames against parchment. One moment naught but an illuminating thread, and then, before I can fathom it, my mind explodes with the queries and the fears and a desperate, helpless hope.
Helpless. That is how I feel, Garrion. Helpless. Helpless to heal, helpless to assist; I wanted so desperately to get involved when I heard what was happening, but I have no skills that could possibly come in useful on a battlefield. I cannot even bandage a wound. I would have been a liability. A hindrance, not a help, and I could not risk that. I *would *not risk that.
I am allowing my quill to run away with me. I should end this letter before it drags on even further. I wish I could send it. I wish you could receive it. I can only hope that somewhere, somehow, some way, you will get the message.
I miss you. I wish you could write back.
Love From,
Saira
I sit here in my chamber, with the morning sun on my face and hair, a pot of tea at my elbow and a warm blanket about my shoulders, and still I shiver. I feel a bone numbing cold instilled through fear. I can still hear the reverberations of battle, distant, but unmistakable, from where I hid beneath my bed.
That feeling of loss returned while I lay there, and I have begun to wonder if I have purposefully forgotten something crucial in my past. Was someone lost to me in battle? Why do I have this feeling of abandonment that insinuates itself into my heart at the moments when I feel most vulnerable. First, when I arrived, in the dead of night where all vulnerabilities are most powerful, and then again, while hiding under my bed and praying that Armel, my only real comfort here, was safe while he fought.
I wish I could say what happened. I wish I could say I understand all of it. I only know what I was told, and such things are not things that should be placed into a letter all can see. Suffice it to say, perhaps I had good reason to regress, to hide beneath my bed like a child as a nightmare pounded on our doors.
My favorite brother, just two years my senior, rode in from Bastion before the battle. He wanted to see how I was doing. I cannot even hide the truth from him; I am not doing very well. I am lonely here, and I am afraid. Now, more so than ever. What were mother and father thinking when they loosed me into the world like a bird from a nest to which it was familiar?
I am the seventh. I once believed seven to be a lucky number. I was freed from much of the responsibilities my siblings faced, and perhaps that made me unaware, too complacent in my isolated world. There is strength within me, this I know. I am a Grayson. I just wish it was a bit easier to find.
Especially now, when everything is so tenuous. How many tomorrows do we have left? How many laters? How many suns will rise before the end? Can we stave off that end, one faithful soldier at a time? Even so, at what cost? Will a victory truly be a victory if we lose too much, too many in the process?
These questions whisper through my mind, catching on the edges of my thoughts like licking flames against parchment. One moment naught but an illuminating thread, and then, before I can fathom it, my mind explodes with the queries and the fears and a desperate, helpless hope.
Helpless. That is how I feel, Garrion. Helpless. Helpless to heal, helpless to assist; I wanted so desperately to get involved when I heard what was happening, but I have no skills that could possibly come in useful on a battlefield. I cannot even bandage a wound. I would have been a liability. A hindrance, not a help, and I could not risk that. I *would *not risk that.
I am allowing my quill to run away with me. I should end this letter before it drags on even further. I wish I could send it. I wish you could receive it. I can only hope that somewhere, somehow, some way, you will get the message.
I miss you. I wish you could write back.
Love From,
Saira
Written By Yasmine
May 7, 2017, 8:06 p.m.(6/4/1006 AR)
Some stories have tragic endings. The sadness is written into the tale long before it ever began.
And some have happy endings only because the heroes of the tale make it so. The actions of our heroes will become stories and those stories will become legends as much as the tales of Queen Alarice have become.
I was not fit to fight at the walls and save the Compact from the forces of evil, but I can tell the stories and sing songs of those that did.
And some have happy endings only because the heroes of the tale make it so. The actions of our heroes will become stories and those stories will become legends as much as the tales of Queen Alarice have become.
I was not fit to fight at the walls and save the Compact from the forces of evil, but I can tell the stories and sing songs of those that did.
Written By Rowan
May 7, 2017, 8:05 p.m.(6/4/1006 AR)
Family rises out of shared experience. Sometimes that experience begins with being born of the same blood. Othertimes it is those that we find ourselves standing alongside in hard times. I find myself blessed with family of both flavors, and doubley blessed that through these recent troubles, I have had no cause grieve for any of them. Whatever lies behind, whatever lies ahead, I thank the Spirits for each of them and their continued well being.
Written By Esoka
May 7, 2017, 8:01 p.m.(6/4/1006 AR)
I thought it was the end of me.
The armies at the Seawatch Gate had fought strong and true. Marquessa Deepwood and Thesarin's plan with the prodigals had worked, and they came from the rear to take some of the pressure off the assault. I shall remember Tikva and the archers pouring arrows down like a rain of death from the ramparts, and fighting beside Lord Rymarr to hold the line. It was the greatest battle of my life, and I've more pride than I can put into words that I fought beside the Grayson and Lycene warriors that day.
Would we have held? In my heart, I think not.
But then it all stopped. The monsters faded into nothingness. The shavs stood on the field as if all will had been drained out of them. Many were taken prisoner, thank all gods. Perhaps some can be made whole again, out of whatever horror Brand made them into.
I learned later that the ones now called Paladins had felled Brand by their own swords. The world owes them its thanks, forevermore. They certain have mine. All honors be.
I want to celebrate, but then I think about what lies ahead. Ten thousand soldiers dead. The countless civilians. The horror that was done to the Thrax ward and the poor thralls when the walls shattered. Tikva lying in the House of the Solace, recovering from a wound I thought would end her. I wonder what state the Twainfort is in, and shudder when I think of the Gray Forest.
I think it shall be a very long time before I can think of it with any clarity.
I need a drink.
The armies at the Seawatch Gate had fought strong and true. Marquessa Deepwood and Thesarin's plan with the prodigals had worked, and they came from the rear to take some of the pressure off the assault. I shall remember Tikva and the archers pouring arrows down like a rain of death from the ramparts, and fighting beside Lord Rymarr to hold the line. It was the greatest battle of my life, and I've more pride than I can put into words that I fought beside the Grayson and Lycene warriors that day.
Would we have held? In my heart, I think not.
But then it all stopped. The monsters faded into nothingness. The shavs stood on the field as if all will had been drained out of them. Many were taken prisoner, thank all gods. Perhaps some can be made whole again, out of whatever horror Brand made them into.
I learned later that the ones now called Paladins had felled Brand by their own swords. The world owes them its thanks, forevermore. They certain have mine. All honors be.
I want to celebrate, but then I think about what lies ahead. Ten thousand soldiers dead. The countless civilians. The horror that was done to the Thrax ward and the poor thralls when the walls shattered. Tikva lying in the House of the Solace, recovering from a wound I thought would end her. I wonder what state the Twainfort is in, and shudder when I think of the Gray Forest.
I think it shall be a very long time before I can think of it with any clarity.
I need a drink.
Written By Mira
May 7, 2017, 7:40 p.m.(6/4/1006 AR)
Relationship Note on Gaston
A little scary, this one. Looking for help in buying land outside Arx.
Written By Rymarr
May 7, 2017, 7:39 p.m.(6/4/1006 AR)
There is many and much to write to and about. The longer that I consider all who I need to send letters to to verify their safety, the longer the list grows.
Written By Mira
May 7, 2017, 7:37 p.m.(6/4/1006 AR)
Relationship Note on Ferrando
My bratty cousin, who endlessly annoys me.
Written By Aureth
May 7, 2017, 7:27 p.m.(6/4/1006 AR)
We have saved Death's City.
We saved ourselves.
And we saved the Wheel.
I spoke my thanks to the dead, and I'll write them here again. The dead rose, they walked, they fought. We held. We held for as long as we had to. We fought into the long, endless night, and I don't know what would have happened if I hadn't stood with Duke Cassius, with Father Orazio, and with those scrappy little shits from the Lower Boroughs defending their homes.
And it ended. _It ended_.
Thank the Pantheon. Thank the Paladins. Thank you.
We saved ourselves.
And we saved the Wheel.
I spoke my thanks to the dead, and I'll write them here again. The dead rose, they walked, they fought. We held. We held for as long as we had to. We fought into the long, endless night, and I don't know what would have happened if I hadn't stood with Duke Cassius, with Father Orazio, and with those scrappy little shits from the Lower Boroughs defending their homes.
And it ended. _It ended_.
Thank the Pantheon. Thank the Paladins. Thank you.
Written By Freja
May 7, 2017, 7:23 p.m.(6/4/1006 AR)
To say I feel as though I wasted my time, well that would be selling it short words enough to fill volumes.
Please note that the scholars may take some time preparing your journal for others to read.