Written By Agnarr
Dec. 29, 2016, 6:39 a.m.(7/7/1005 AR)
Relationship Note on Tristram
Not a bad shot, but archery skill cannot fully overcome poor tactics.
Written By Juliet
Dec. 29, 2016, 5:38 a.m.(7/7/1005 AR)
Relationship Note on Anze
If you live up to the banter of your letters, Prince Anze, then I have every expectation that you shall be an exciting new friend.
Written By Serafine
Dec. 29, 2016, 4:22 a.m.(7/7/1005 AR)
Relationship Note on Leta
Had a long winded discussion about weapons and bladework in the Grotto with Leta this evening, after a failed attempt to pair fight two other fighters.
It was a good learning experience (the fight), and an intriguing meeting (at the Grotto).
I hope the others didn't find us rude, but honestly, I didn't notice much beyond Leta.
What a remarkable person. I look forward to seeing her again.
It was a good learning experience (the fight), and an intriguing meeting (at the Grotto).
I hope the others didn't find us rude, but honestly, I didn't notice much beyond Leta.
What a remarkable person. I look forward to seeing her again.
Written By Darrow
Dec. 29, 2016, 3:39 a.m.(7/7/1005 AR)
Relationship Note on Victus
I feel like a rock, pounded by the sea waves.
Ouch.
Ouch.
Written By Ferrando
Dec. 29, 2016, 3:31 a.m.(7/7/1005 AR)
Relationship Note on Agnarr
I happened to encounter the Redrain housecarl in a training match. He's not very talkative but seems like a good straightforward fellow. It's a little fuzzy when I try to recall more detail, however. I should endeavor to not intercept that padded greatsword of his with my helmet in any future sparring engagements.
Written By Julea
Dec. 29, 2016, 3:06 a.m.(7/7/1005 AR)
iv.
I wasn’t dead. But by the time I realised this, a small part of me wished I was.
A one-eyed blink, and a blood stained sledgehammer stopped just shy of my face, brought abruptly to a halt by a singular ruling and I was granted clemency that ended with his severed head in my lap. “This is not allowed.” He sung his sweet song, and they followed with the chorus, matching his steps, his words. Words, they were everywhere. spilled from the mouths of my once-friends, once-family, once-lovers. I told them not to speak. But they didn’t listen and their words covered my face until I could pair-see the world once more. “You will remember me,” the Minstrel sung.
I was lugged around with no more decorum than a sack of potatoes and with that backwards view, I watched it burn till the image faded leaving just the blackened husks of three trunks. And standing between them, I saw the man I knew as my father standing before them. “I will remember you,” I whisper-promised back to that Minstrel.
v.
Three days of travelling down Grays River, and I hit the ground, two tribes of Shavs clashing noisily around me. I lay forgotten face down in the mud and a third group of non-Shavs joined in the frenzy but I had no eyes for them, only the glint of red steel held by one of my captors near by. A sharpened buckle on my boot and I was free, wiggling my hands from the cords.
I retrieved both of them, and they paid the price in blood. Church had kept his word, he was there and he saw me. And this time when I fought the Shavs, I was not alone and the outcome would be very different. Red steel glistened terrifyingly in a flash of lightning, the storm that raged above us reflecting with my own singing fury. Kukri struck the Shav just below the ear, the power and the velocity of the blow enough to shear straight through flesh, gristle and bone.
The Shav’s head fell forward and began to bounce hideously down the bank of the Gray, unspooling a splattered red trail over pebbles and landing with a plunk in the swift flowing waters. The decapitated body hung lifeless for what seemed like an eternity, before it slumped to the side, collapsing on itself in a geyser of blood. My heart pounded with the intensity of the battle, but there was to be reprieve and another took his place as I fought hard to shed the ground between us.
The beauty of my Kukri is in it’s ability to adapt. It not only chops, but pierces, slashes, and even smashes when force is focused with the back edge of the blade. The long narrow distal point, in the right hands, can be driven through thick hide and tough skin. And the hands of mine were the right ones. She performed beautifully and I utilised every aspect of her.
“You’re late.” I was breathless and that was all the words I could muster.
I wasn’t dead. But by the time I realised this, a small part of me wished I was.
A one-eyed blink, and a blood stained sledgehammer stopped just shy of my face, brought abruptly to a halt by a singular ruling and I was granted clemency that ended with his severed head in my lap. “This is not allowed.” He sung his sweet song, and they followed with the chorus, matching his steps, his words. Words, they were everywhere. spilled from the mouths of my once-friends, once-family, once-lovers. I told them not to speak. But they didn’t listen and their words covered my face until I could pair-see the world once more. “You will remember me,” the Minstrel sung.
I was lugged around with no more decorum than a sack of potatoes and with that backwards view, I watched it burn till the image faded leaving just the blackened husks of three trunks. And standing between them, I saw the man I knew as my father standing before them. “I will remember you,” I whisper-promised back to that Minstrel.
v.
Three days of travelling down Grays River, and I hit the ground, two tribes of Shavs clashing noisily around me. I lay forgotten face down in the mud and a third group of non-Shavs joined in the frenzy but I had no eyes for them, only the glint of red steel held by one of my captors near by. A sharpened buckle on my boot and I was free, wiggling my hands from the cords.
I retrieved both of them, and they paid the price in blood. Church had kept his word, he was there and he saw me. And this time when I fought the Shavs, I was not alone and the outcome would be very different. Red steel glistened terrifyingly in a flash of lightning, the storm that raged above us reflecting with my own singing fury. Kukri struck the Shav just below the ear, the power and the velocity of the blow enough to shear straight through flesh, gristle and bone.
The Shav’s head fell forward and began to bounce hideously down the bank of the Gray, unspooling a splattered red trail over pebbles and landing with a plunk in the swift flowing waters. The decapitated body hung lifeless for what seemed like an eternity, before it slumped to the side, collapsing on itself in a geyser of blood. My heart pounded with the intensity of the battle, but there was to be reprieve and another took his place as I fought hard to shed the ground between us.
The beauty of my Kukri is in it’s ability to adapt. It not only chops, but pierces, slashes, and even smashes when force is focused with the back edge of the blade. The long narrow distal point, in the right hands, can be driven through thick hide and tough skin. And the hands of mine were the right ones. She performed beautifully and I utilised every aspect of her.
“You’re late.” I was breathless and that was all the words I could muster.
Written By Julea
Dec. 29, 2016, 2:08 a.m.(7/6/1005 AR)
iii.
I raised Kukri, aiming a mortal cut to his neck; but did not have the reach, and the Shav returned it at full swing, landing a tremendous blow on my cheek bone and brow and made a red rain of that side of my face as I went down. I could hear their shouts, the roar of triumph as the wave of fortune rolled tumultuously from me to him.
I got up with a ghostly smile, one side of my face perfectly sanguine, my right eye closed as I advanced back to the fight, just as determined. Our blades crossed paths and not receiving another remembrancer I went at it with my former impetuosity, but in vain at first. Weakened, he was easily able to ward off the strikes, or draw back out of reach. There was no cautiousness, no half-hits. No finesse, no art in this kind of fighting. It was brutal.
I lunged for him, using a concentrated blow with the back of the blade to smash his face and for a moment he was suspended and it was uncertain whether he would retaliate before he fell back, hands flung up in the air, and his bloody sword hits a spot of virgin grass. All traces of life and of natural expression were gone from him. His face spouted blood and everything was red.
It was over, for both of us. One more of them fell before they overwhelmed me and everything went black but not before I glimpsed something, or rather someone: A Minstrel ruling the Shav tribes.
--------------------------------- I need a moment. This next bit is important.
I raised Kukri, aiming a mortal cut to his neck; but did not have the reach, and the Shav returned it at full swing, landing a tremendous blow on my cheek bone and brow and made a red rain of that side of my face as I went down. I could hear their shouts, the roar of triumph as the wave of fortune rolled tumultuously from me to him.
I got up with a ghostly smile, one side of my face perfectly sanguine, my right eye closed as I advanced back to the fight, just as determined. Our blades crossed paths and not receiving another remembrancer I went at it with my former impetuosity, but in vain at first. Weakened, he was easily able to ward off the strikes, or draw back out of reach. There was no cautiousness, no half-hits. No finesse, no art in this kind of fighting. It was brutal.
I lunged for him, using a concentrated blow with the back of the blade to smash his face and for a moment he was suspended and it was uncertain whether he would retaliate before he fell back, hands flung up in the air, and his bloody sword hits a spot of virgin grass. All traces of life and of natural expression were gone from him. His face spouted blood and everything was red.
It was over, for both of us. One more of them fell before they overwhelmed me and everything went black but not before I glimpsed something, or rather someone: A Minstrel ruling the Shav tribes.
--------------------------------- I need a moment. This next bit is important.
Written By Cai
Dec. 29, 2016, 2:01 a.m.(7/6/1005 AR)
07/06/1005
I forgot how I need to remind myself that I need to stop getting my hopes up.
There will always be a better options than you.
Move on, get over it, and focus on your task at hand.
I forgot how I need to remind myself that I need to stop getting my hopes up.
There will always be a better options than you.
Move on, get over it, and focus on your task at hand.
Written By Agnarr
Dec. 29, 2016, 1:18 a.m.(7/6/1005 AR)
Relationship Note on Cai
Needs some practice with courtship, might be, not swordsmanship.
Written By Agnarr
Dec. 29, 2016, 1:18 a.m.(7/6/1005 AR)
Relationship Note on Ferrando
The mace hurt, but not enough.
Written By Silas
Dec. 29, 2016, 12:17 a.m.(7/6/1005 AR)
Looks like I'm going to have to catch a dog.
The work of the Iron Guard has no strict parameters!
The work of the Iron Guard has no strict parameters!
Written By Serafine
Dec. 28, 2016, 11:28 p.m.(7/6/1005 AR)
More and more these days I feel as rootless as I did guarding caravans, before I found the People.
No home, no foundation. No binding connections beyond Eleyna.
What am I looking for? I'll never have what had before.
Maybe that's the real problem?
No home, no foundation. No binding connections beyond Eleyna.
What am I looking for? I'll never have what had before.
Maybe that's the real problem?
Written By Julea
Dec. 28, 2016, 9:18 p.m.(7/6/1005 AR)
ii.
Thunk. That graceful curved edge firmly embedded right between the eyes, but not before his machete cleaved through the throat of my father. He was the first to fall in the line of the villagers who had been rounded up to be sacrificed. My entire childhood, about to bleed into the dirt of Three Trees which is no more.
My progress didn't halt and I drew the second of the pair, the lesser of the two blades. The one my father helped me forge as a stubborn child and it was only fitting that I avenged him ... everyone, with it. I would die here. I will die here. But I was determined that I would not be the only one.
Between the acting of the immense Shav I faced and the first strike, all the interim was like a hideous nightmare. When the first blow struck, there was no time for nervous apprehensions, I was immediately swallowed up in the surge and flew at my adversary like a tiger, and Kukri my claw, striking three blows at first, following through swiftly as he staggered back. Two more and down he fell, but not for long. We met again, this time he was more cautious, brow creased and his teeth clenched together. The rest of the Shavs provided a circle of faces around us, finding sport in the fight, ensuring even if I won, I would still lose.
He brought his sword up and I could not get past his guard, we both struck but without advantage to either side and neither of us fell and the fate of the fight was suspended. The balance of power restored.
--------------------------------------------- Bear with me, I need to rest.
Thunk. That graceful curved edge firmly embedded right between the eyes, but not before his machete cleaved through the throat of my father. He was the first to fall in the line of the villagers who had been rounded up to be sacrificed. My entire childhood, about to bleed into the dirt of Three Trees which is no more.
My progress didn't halt and I drew the second of the pair, the lesser of the two blades. The one my father helped me forge as a stubborn child and it was only fitting that I avenged him ... everyone, with it. I would die here. I will die here. But I was determined that I would not be the only one.
Between the acting of the immense Shav I faced and the first strike, all the interim was like a hideous nightmare. When the first blow struck, there was no time for nervous apprehensions, I was immediately swallowed up in the surge and flew at my adversary like a tiger, and Kukri my claw, striking three blows at first, following through swiftly as he staggered back. Two more and down he fell, but not for long. We met again, this time he was more cautious, brow creased and his teeth clenched together. The rest of the Shavs provided a circle of faces around us, finding sport in the fight, ensuring even if I won, I would still lose.
He brought his sword up and I could not get past his guard, we both struck but without advantage to either side and neither of us fell and the fate of the fight was suspended. The balance of power restored.
--------------------------------------------- Bear with me, I need to rest.
Written By Joscelin
Dec. 28, 2016, 9:07 p.m.(7/6/1005 AR)
I have an entourage now. Oh, Fates, how you do toy with me and mine.
Written By Bethany
Dec. 28, 2016, 8:32 p.m.(7/6/1005 AR)
(From the desk of B. Mercier, Steward:)
* Honesty. Respect. Given freely until there is reason to renounce. There were notes that I made during the planning meeting of the Salon - but, there are too many of them - and too disorganized. I will need to sort through them.
* Trust. Need it. Are there books on the subject...?
* Patience. I could benefit from a more of it. Apologies to any that have had to deal with that ... in every instance in which I (and others) could have benefited from waiting. (I couldn't. I tried. You know who you are.)
* Progress. Plans. The Salons and the Diplomatic Corps. So pleased. So very, very pleased.
* Honesty. Respect. Given freely until there is reason to renounce. There were notes that I made during the planning meeting of the Salon - but, there are too many of them - and too disorganized. I will need to sort through them.
* Trust. Need it. Are there books on the subject...?
* Patience. I could benefit from a more of it. Apologies to any that have had to deal with that ... in every instance in which I (and others) could have benefited from waiting. (I couldn't. I tried. You know who you are.)
* Progress. Plans. The Salons and the Diplomatic Corps. So pleased. So very, very pleased.
Written By Julea
Dec. 28, 2016, 8:11 p.m.(7/6/1005 AR)
i.
A part of me knew, the moment I stepped out of Arx, that this would happen. I woke up that morning in a sweat, and with an immediate desire to head home. An innate sense of wrong. And as I retraced my path along the banks of Gray River to the little village of Three Trees that I call home, I felt this impending sense of dread grow; an overwhelming heaviness that sucked the breath out of my chest.
And I just lost my balance.
I fell hard, and the stone laid path, that had become like an old friend with the number of times I had traversed it into Three Trees, became an enemy to my palms and knees and I did not feel a thing.
Time is a fickle thing; a day, an hour a few minutes. It was like the world paused, waiting for me to arrive, for that very moment to happen, and for the bloody scene to play out in front of my eyes.
I am fast. I have always been fast. Fast enough to always win at tag. Fast enough to to reach Aleksei before the black wall came crashing down. Fast enough to skid through Horatio beneath it. But not fast enough today.
It was all just a matter of time. The breath it took for me to get back up to my feet. The heart beats that passed as I brought Kukri into my right palm. I ran, but I knew I would not be quick enough. I couldn't possibly make it in time as the sword rose up high into the air. Kukri wasn't forged for flight, but today she flew. It wasn't graceful cut through the air like a throwing knife. But rather the end over end spin of an axe.
A part of me knew, the moment I stepped out of Arx, that this would happen. I woke up that morning in a sweat, and with an immediate desire to head home. An innate sense of wrong. And as I retraced my path along the banks of Gray River to the little village of Three Trees that I call home, I felt this impending sense of dread grow; an overwhelming heaviness that sucked the breath out of my chest.
And I just lost my balance.
I fell hard, and the stone laid path, that had become like an old friend with the number of times I had traversed it into Three Trees, became an enemy to my palms and knees and I did not feel a thing.
Time is a fickle thing; a day, an hour a few minutes. It was like the world paused, waiting for me to arrive, for that very moment to happen, and for the bloody scene to play out in front of my eyes.
I am fast. I have always been fast. Fast enough to always win at tag. Fast enough to to reach Aleksei before the black wall came crashing down. Fast enough to skid through Horatio beneath it. But not fast enough today.
It was all just a matter of time. The breath it took for me to get back up to my feet. The heart beats that passed as I brought Kukri into my right palm. I ran, but I knew I would not be quick enough. I couldn't possibly make it in time as the sword rose up high into the air. Kukri wasn't forged for flight, but today she flew. It wasn't graceful cut through the air like a throwing knife. But rather the end over end spin of an axe.
Written By Runa
Dec. 28, 2016, 7:36 p.m.(7/6/1005 AR)
What is one to do when one fails to prevent the death of an innocent? Was there something that could have been done to spare them such a short and gruesome end. And why must it always come down to blood more and more? Perhaps it's due to delving too deeply into the subject. Blood. So obviously vital, but now this other reason. More than symbolism. Hints of something deeper and older and potent. As if it could be counted as a kind of currency to others. I must prevent any future tragedies, and those that would prey on innocents. Somehow. I must learn more.
Written By Alis
Dec. 28, 2016, 6:38 p.m.(7/5/1005 AR)
Relationship Note on Tristram
A cousin recently arrived in Arx. It is always nice to have more family around, and he seems quite capable. We can never have too many capable people.
Written By Alis
Dec. 28, 2016, 6:30 p.m.(7/5/1005 AR)
Relationship Note on Percephon
I believe we shall get along quite well. He obviously has very little problem in voicing his opinion, and while he also lacks tact or subtlety, his observations do strike right at the heart of a matter. I can quite readily see myself trusting him as an advisor. Not necessarily completely impartial, no. But one who has Telmar and Valardin's best interests in mind. And more importantly, the fate of the realm on his mind.
Written By Cai
Dec. 28, 2016, 6:13 p.m.(7/5/1005 AR)
07/05/1005
Why come to me for love advice? I'm not sure what gives people the impression that I'm the sort of person who knows how to talk to of matter of love and affection. I barely understand it myself. You can love a tree, but I wouldn't suggest fucking one.
If you like someone, or at the least, find them attractive, ask them or out or back to your place. If they say no, then well, you move on. Clearly it wasn't meant to be. It's that simple. Don't sit and pine for someone for weeks and months thinking that the situation is going to change.
This city keeps getting stranger and stranger. Just say what you feel. It makes things so much more clear. And if that's not the answer that you were looking for, move on, you'll only hurt yourself more in the process.
Why come to me for love advice? I'm not sure what gives people the impression that I'm the sort of person who knows how to talk to of matter of love and affection. I barely understand it myself. You can love a tree, but I wouldn't suggest fucking one.
If you like someone, or at the least, find them attractive, ask them or out or back to your place. If they say no, then well, you move on. Clearly it wasn't meant to be. It's that simple. Don't sit and pine for someone for weeks and months thinking that the situation is going to change.
This city keeps getting stranger and stranger. Just say what you feel. It makes things so much more clear. And if that's not the answer that you were looking for, move on, you'll only hurt yourself more in the process.
Please note that the scholars may take some time preparing your journal for others to read.