Written By Amari
Jan. 29, 2021, 11:03 p.m.(11/5/1014 AR)
I'm happy to report that Queen Irama of the Shadowcat tribe was ultimately victorious in war, though there were setbacks and losses as the battle raged. Some of her light cavalry disregarded her orders and fled with spoils from the Duke's baggage, then a number of her skirmishers were killed by goats, or the horses with daggers in their mouths, bugs or poisonous cats? It was very unfortunate anyway, but the larger strategy was not too badly disrupted by the Fournier's nefarious tactics.
While the fighting on the road continued, the siege towers that had been assembled in the surrounding wood were rolled out under the favorable sign of a flaming Greenmarch war elk falling from the sky. Spirits high, the towers and ladders were successfully and swiftly deployed, allowing the main body of her troops to breach the citadel walls. Once within, many cats were looted while the defenders frosted themselves and then evacuated by ship with their precious cat's eyes. Her archers were ordered to harry them as they were leaving the docks, but in a cruel surprise attack they were all killed by a giant cake.
For this crime, the remainder of the citadel's survivors were herded into the cat-thedral and burnt alive.
Let that be a warning to the Followers of the Cake. Queen Irama is merciless.
While the fighting on the road continued, the siege towers that had been assembled in the surrounding wood were rolled out under the favorable sign of a flaming Greenmarch war elk falling from the sky. Spirits high, the towers and ladders were successfully and swiftly deployed, allowing the main body of her troops to breach the citadel walls. Once within, many cats were looted while the defenders frosted themselves and then evacuated by ship with their precious cat's eyes. Her archers were ordered to harry them as they were leaving the docks, but in a cruel surprise attack they were all killed by a giant cake.
For this crime, the remainder of the citadel's survivors were herded into the cat-thedral and burnt alive.
Let that be a warning to the Followers of the Cake. Queen Irama is merciless.
Written By Ryhalt
Jan. 29, 2021, 8:12 p.m.(11/5/1014 AR)
While I am told that tweed is not made of bee legs because that'd lead to the death of all bees, I am going to have to affirm this for myself.
Now to find someone who can manipulate the material...
Now to find someone who can manipulate the material...
Written By Sunaia
Jan. 29, 2021, 7:41 p.m.(11/5/1014 AR)
Scholar Einar, I apologize for the mess of notes that Parker brought you. I wrote as I went and Parker did their best to organize what I had. I appreciate them all the more for it and you should too.
(Please, put a good word for them.
They want to be an archivist.)
I honestly don't think I'll have a couple of days as -- not momentous, that's not the word I want to use, but motivating-- as the last couple of days have been. First and foremost: owning up to past (and present) mistakes. Admitting to them when you (like me -- I'm talking about me) are already a prideful thing (me) and you're already learning a lot a little humility. Own up. Work. It's hard and it's rough on the ego and having a sense of humor about yourself is needed -- but then you get a reminder that (woosh) that arrow slices through the air and you heard it and felt the brush of the wind against your cheek -- you may have missed the point, but somehow, you still learned from it. Secondly. Manners. That might be one aspect of civility that's going to be writ large in my thoughts for a while. Politeness. Never make an assumption. Sorry, Scholar, the rest aren't really full thoughts so much as they are impressions --
The boots, gods, I noticed them. Sand and salt-spray and the weird musty smell of wet dog. Long walks. Direct glances and comfortable, quiet pauses. Cutlery jokes with similar semi-feral friends. Amber and burnt umber and maple leaves and dark, dark hair. Mulled cider, with the faint tang of the hot metal. Loose hairpins. Alaricite. I wonder what such autumnal warmth smells like. Hammers. Deep questions. Wondering what ifs. Shared grins and easy laughs. Making that last sip last because you know if you finish it -- the conversation's over. But you're not ready to leave. Even if you know you need to. The smoky smell of fireplace in dried dog fur. Warm bed even though you're fighting for space with two huge dogs --
(Please, put a good word for them.
They want to be an archivist.)
I honestly don't think I'll have a couple of days as -- not momentous, that's not the word I want to use, but motivating-- as the last couple of days have been. First and foremost: owning up to past (and present) mistakes. Admitting to them when you (like me -- I'm talking about me) are already a prideful thing (me) and you're already learning a lot a little humility. Own up. Work. It's hard and it's rough on the ego and having a sense of humor about yourself is needed -- but then you get a reminder that (woosh) that arrow slices through the air and you heard it and felt the brush of the wind against your cheek -- you may have missed the point, but somehow, you still learned from it. Secondly. Manners. That might be one aspect of civility that's going to be writ large in my thoughts for a while. Politeness. Never make an assumption. Sorry, Scholar, the rest aren't really full thoughts so much as they are impressions --
The boots, gods, I noticed them. Sand and salt-spray and the weird musty smell of wet dog. Long walks. Direct glances and comfortable, quiet pauses. Cutlery jokes with similar semi-feral friends. Amber and burnt umber and maple leaves and dark, dark hair. Mulled cider, with the faint tang of the hot metal. Loose hairpins. Alaricite. I wonder what such autumnal warmth smells like. Hammers. Deep questions. Wondering what ifs. Shared grins and easy laughs. Making that last sip last because you know if you finish it -- the conversation's over. But you're not ready to leave. Even if you know you need to. The smoky smell of fireplace in dried dog fur. Warm bed even though you're fighting for space with two huge dogs --
Written By Adalyn
Jan. 29, 2021, 10:14 a.m.(11/4/1014 AR)
I've always found change to be exhilarating. Stepping into the unknown feels like embarking on an adventure.
Why, then, do I feel such trepidation about what is to come?
Why, then, do I feel such trepidation about what is to come?
Written By Leta
Jan. 29, 2021, 9:26 a.m.(11/4/1014 AR)
To step on the cobblestones of Arx is like walking with ghosts. It's a funny thing, that they seem more alive when I close my eyes.
The house is worse. Every door I open feels like cracking open a grave. The house needs airing out, anyhow, so I think I shall stay in a room at some tavern somewhere, for a while.
The house is worse. Every door I open feels like cracking open a grave. The house needs airing out, anyhow, so I think I shall stay in a room at some tavern somewhere, for a while.
Written By Piccola
Jan. 29, 2021, 9:01 a.m.(11/4/1014 AR)
Know this, wise general.
Do not confuse dissent with disloyalty. When we deny the right of the individual to be wrong, unpopular, eccentric or ignorant, then those who come to the Compact looking for a new allegiance will conclude that we are concerned to defend a myth and our present privileged status. Every act that limits freedom costs us the confidence of men and women who aspire to the same freedom and independence of which we speak and for which our ancestors fought.
To be persuasive we must be believable; to be believable we must be credible; to be credible we must be truthful; and to be truthful we must admit our failings.
Do not confuse dissent with disloyalty. When we deny the right of the individual to be wrong, unpopular, eccentric or ignorant, then those who come to the Compact looking for a new allegiance will conclude that we are concerned to defend a myth and our present privileged status. Every act that limits freedom costs us the confidence of men and women who aspire to the same freedom and independence of which we speak and for which our ancestors fought.
To be persuasive we must be believable; to be believable we must be credible; to be credible we must be truthful; and to be truthful we must admit our failings.
Written By Delilah
Jan. 29, 2021, 8:13 a.m.(11/4/1014 AR)
What days we live in, couched in the cold touch of winter.
Written By Lianne
Jan. 29, 2021, 7:34 a.m.(11/4/1014 AR)
Relationship Note on Duarte
Someone important once told me, "You don't have to put it back together the way it was."
We are not what we were. A few pieces salvaged from the wreckage of complicated years, but so much surrendered, so much changed. Whatever we are, whatever we will be, I am glad to have my friend near again.
We are not what we were. A few pieces salvaged from the wreckage of complicated years, but so much surrendered, so much changed. Whatever we are, whatever we will be, I am glad to have my friend near again.
Written By Dio
Jan. 28, 2021, 11:44 p.m.(11/3/1014 AR)
Relationship Note on Ciro
My cousin sent me a painting of Imogene at Braiga. He painted it from memory. Her hair, her eyes, the style of dress the expression of her features - it is a perfect likeness, and so far as I know, the only one in existence.
When I first saw the painting, I nearly dropped it. My vision blurred and tears streamed down my face in spite of my will. To hold in my hand the image of one whom I loved so dearly, who changed my life, and who brought so much to Ischia was an unthinkable blessing. I had not, nor will I ever forget her face - but to see her again in Ciro's painting brought back her voice, rich with the accents of the Oathlands, the smell of her hair, the sound of the clavichord that she so dearly loved to play.
There is no good man who does not wish to protect what he loves, and in that I have utterly failed. She was taken for granted all her life, and I never had the chance to convey to her how much she meant to me. When I enter the Shinning Lands, the gods will look on my life of infamy and violence, and see my greatest sin.
I was entrusted with true nobility, and was not there when she needed me most. Yet when I look on the one who took my hand, and joined me as the Countess of the March of Ischia, I feel an invincible resolve to live in such a way as would make her proud.
Thank you, Ciro. This is a gift I will cherish until my last breath.
When I first saw the painting, I nearly dropped it. My vision blurred and tears streamed down my face in spite of my will. To hold in my hand the image of one whom I loved so dearly, who changed my life, and who brought so much to Ischia was an unthinkable blessing. I had not, nor will I ever forget her face - but to see her again in Ciro's painting brought back her voice, rich with the accents of the Oathlands, the smell of her hair, the sound of the clavichord that she so dearly loved to play.
There is no good man who does not wish to protect what he loves, and in that I have utterly failed. She was taken for granted all her life, and I never had the chance to convey to her how much she meant to me. When I enter the Shinning Lands, the gods will look on my life of infamy and violence, and see my greatest sin.
I was entrusted with true nobility, and was not there when she needed me most. Yet when I look on the one who took my hand, and joined me as the Countess of the March of Ischia, I feel an invincible resolve to live in such a way as would make her proud.
Thank you, Ciro. This is a gift I will cherish until my last breath.
Written By Mabelle
Jan. 28, 2021, 1:52 p.m.(11/2/1014 AR)
The thing about burning bridges is that it leaves no path to return.
Well, not precisely. You can still attempt a swim or a long route through a shadowy forest.
And while the path is longer that way and more challenging at times, perhaps in the end it is more gratifying.
Well, not precisely. You can still attempt a swim or a long route through a shadowy forest.
And while the path is longer that way and more challenging at times, perhaps in the end it is more gratifying.
Written By Sunaia
Jan. 28, 2021, 9:31 a.m.(11/2/1014 AR)
My thought is this --
I learned what happened before. I learned what happened after. It's the during that's still a huge hole. That time needs to be accounted so. I don't think you were welcome with them, no, not at first. Then you were. That's what made them remember your name.
Intruder.
I learned what happened before. I learned what happened after. It's the during that's still a huge hole. That time needs to be accounted so. I don't think you were welcome with them, no, not at first. Then you were. That's what made them remember your name.
Intruder.
Written By Lisebet
Jan. 28, 2021, 9:07 a.m.(11/2/1014 AR)
It is a time of uncertainty although I know we are all doing everything we can. I hope our activities will have improved our hopes in the impending war. It seems there is no way we can avoid the war, or at least no reasonable way. I suppose this just means we all must continue to work together to improve things, where and how we are able to do so.
The good news is that I do enjoy a challenge at times. The bad news is that this is a huge challenge.
The good news is that I do enjoy a challenge at times. The bad news is that this is a huge challenge.
Written By Medeia
Jan. 28, 2021, 12:11 a.m.(11/1/1014 AR)
This is going to make me sound... Unhinged. This is quite possibly the best my life has ever been. I have wonderful people in my life. There are exciting things in the works.
Yet, I feel intensely lonely. I miss Nel terribly. I found myself crossing the city and slipping into her room and just sitting on the edge of the bed, like I would when we would catch up at the end of the day sometimes. I can write to her, but that isn't the same as sitting beside her passing a bottle of whiskey back and forth, watching her distractedly unbraid and rebraid her hair.
I swear, Scholar, I don't make a habit of hiding away in other people's unoccupied rooms. There's just so much I want to tell her in person instead of in a letter.
Yet, I feel intensely lonely. I miss Nel terribly. I found myself crossing the city and slipping into her room and just sitting on the edge of the bed, like I would when we would catch up at the end of the day sometimes. I can write to her, but that isn't the same as sitting beside her passing a bottle of whiskey back and forth, watching her distractedly unbraid and rebraid her hair.
I swear, Scholar, I don't make a habit of hiding away in other people's unoccupied rooms. There's just so much I want to tell her in person instead of in a letter.
Written By Sydney
Jan. 27, 2021, 10:37 p.m.(11/1/1014 AR)
Soldiers young and the bold will tell you that there is nothing so deadly on the field of battle as succumbing to fear.
The young and the bold often remain such when they fall on the field they've chosen not to be afraid of.
I'm more inclined to trust to fear.
You'll find fewer more reliable teachers with more lessons to give, and the gift of a great deal of time on this spin of the wheel to digest them, surrounded by the fertile soil of the unflinchingly and unfailingly courageous.
The young and the bold often remain such when they fall on the field they've chosen not to be afraid of.
I'm more inclined to trust to fear.
You'll find fewer more reliable teachers with more lessons to give, and the gift of a great deal of time on this spin of the wheel to digest them, surrounded by the fertile soil of the unflinchingly and unfailingly courageous.
Written By Lucita
Jan. 27, 2021, 9:08 p.m.(11/1/1014 AR)
The Grimhalls and I were studied with great care by four Eurusi whose plans we thwarted not long ago. I keep remembering their expressions and the sharp focus of their attention on us... and it seemed to hold a threat for later. It is to be hoped those will not be encountered again.
Written By Lucita
Jan. 27, 2021, 9:02 p.m.(11/1/1014 AR)
I spend time in the Shrine of the Sentinel, an apology in my prayers that I my efforts failed and a resolve to not give up, to keep trying to make a positive difference.
Written By Vashtalyn
Jan. 27, 2021, 8:08 p.m.(11/1/1014 AR)
I have found a most generous patron in Princess Sabella Grayson. I am excited to see where this newfound relationship will take us both. They call her the People's Princess, which seems a fitting mantle. She commissioned an entire outfit which both challenged me and stirred my creativity. Now I find myself with even more materials to work with and my mind is already forming ideas.
I have another commission I am working on as well, though it is slow. First, I must finish the project I have started, which consumes my days and nights. Never have I put so much effort into a single project. I hope that I will have it finished in time for the event.
Somewhere in all this, I will need to find time to make some things for myself. I should get back to work.
I have another commission I am working on as well, though it is slow. First, I must finish the project I have started, which consumes my days and nights. Never have I put so much effort into a single project. I hope that I will have it finished in time for the event.
Somewhere in all this, I will need to find time to make some things for myself. I should get back to work.
Written By Tanith
Jan. 27, 2021, 4:57 p.m.(10/28/1014 AR)
It's been a good week.
The boys came home in one piece, the both of them.
I finally hung Samira's beautiful painting in the Salacious Bakery.
I got to deliver twins. -Always- a wonderful surprise, at least it is for me. I've had a few fathers faint and twice, a mother groaned, 'not again'.
...yes. Quite a good week.
The boys came home in one piece, the both of them.
I finally hung Samira's beautiful painting in the Salacious Bakery.
I got to deliver twins. -Always- a wonderful surprise, at least it is for me. I've had a few fathers faint and twice, a mother groaned, 'not again'.
...yes. Quite a good week.
Written By Orland
Jan. 27, 2021, 11:31 a.m.(10/28/1014 AR)
Relationship Note on Savio
Thoughts of ....someone who stuck their hand in the fire to rescue greatness,
Now I sit here, with this singed hand holding the pages burnt and curled from the heat, I recognize what these strange emotions are, that have intoxicated my mind to do such a thing. But for these words, to save these words, I know it was worth any burn.
May these words never be lost, no matter who comes to tear you down, I will be there, as you were there for me.
Here is, a poem written by Savio Pontelaeus.
I'm calling it: Star-Crossed
I met you when you were broken, and so perhaps was I
We saw a hundred sightless corpses beneath a cold, indifferent sky
I reached to find you still there, and I didn't understand
The loss that would unmake me if you hadn't raised your hand
I saw you when you suffered and I wish I could have known
Exactly what it did to you when you were left alone
I knew I was a fractured thing, unworthy, lost and poor
But every time you said my name, I fell, I wanted more
I wanted to see you smile, wanted to see you light and free
Desperate to see you unbound even if it meant you don't choose me
I had to have a part of you even if it couldn't last
And I would break my heart for you if that is what you asked
You never pushed me to the side, you never walked away
And all my aching darkness was enchanted by your day
I would have given everything to stay with you by the sea
A perfect fragile sunlit world, known just to you and me
But I am not a lovely thing, although try I might
To remember how the daytime feels and walk out of the night
You are lambent and unfettered, your freedom unconstrained
And I still love you always, through my shadows and my chains
If there is a space between us, I know that I'm to blame
And if you're angry with me then I deserve that bitter flame
I did what I had to do, I thought, to make it right
I'm still here and I'm still me, captivated by your light
I know I walk a strange path now, but I don't want to be alone
Guide me with your starlight, love, I'll always come back home
And if this broken, wretched world is more than you can stand
You'll always find I reach for you, and I hope you take my hand.
Now I sit here, with this singed hand holding the pages burnt and curled from the heat, I recognize what these strange emotions are, that have intoxicated my mind to do such a thing. But for these words, to save these words, I know it was worth any burn.
May these words never be lost, no matter who comes to tear you down, I will be there, as you were there for me.
Here is, a poem written by Savio Pontelaeus.
I'm calling it: Star-Crossed
I met you when you were broken, and so perhaps was I
We saw a hundred sightless corpses beneath a cold, indifferent sky
I reached to find you still there, and I didn't understand
The loss that would unmake me if you hadn't raised your hand
I saw you when you suffered and I wish I could have known
Exactly what it did to you when you were left alone
I knew I was a fractured thing, unworthy, lost and poor
But every time you said my name, I fell, I wanted more
I wanted to see you smile, wanted to see you light and free
Desperate to see you unbound even if it meant you don't choose me
I had to have a part of you even if it couldn't last
And I would break my heart for you if that is what you asked
You never pushed me to the side, you never walked away
And all my aching darkness was enchanted by your day
I would have given everything to stay with you by the sea
A perfect fragile sunlit world, known just to you and me
But I am not a lovely thing, although try I might
To remember how the daytime feels and walk out of the night
You are lambent and unfettered, your freedom unconstrained
And I still love you always, through my shadows and my chains
If there is a space between us, I know that I'm to blame
And if you're angry with me then I deserve that bitter flame
I did what I had to do, I thought, to make it right
I'm still here and I'm still me, captivated by your light
I know I walk a strange path now, but I don't want to be alone
Guide me with your starlight, love, I'll always come back home
And if this broken, wretched world is more than you can stand
You'll always find I reach for you, and I hope you take my hand.
Written By Orland
Jan. 27, 2021, 11:31 a.m.(10/28/1014 AR)
Relationship Note on Savio
Thoughts of ....someone who stuck their hand in the fire to rescue greatness,
Now I sit here, with this singed hand holding the pages burnt and curled from the heat, I recognize what these strange emotions are, that have intoxicated my mind to do such a thing. But for these words, to save these words, I know it was worth any burn.
May these words never be lost, no matter who comes to tear you down, I will be there, as you were there for me.
Here is, a poem written by Savio Pontelaeus.
I'm calling it: Star-Crossed
I met you when you were broken, and so perhaps was I
We saw a hundred sightless corpses beneath a cold, indifferent sky
I reached to find you still there, and I didn't understand
The loss that would unmake me if you hadn't raised your hand
I saw you when you suffered and I wish I could have known
Exactly what it did to you when you were left alone
I knew I was a fractured thing, unworthy, lost and poor
But every time you said my name, I fell, I wanted more
I wanted to see you smile, wanted to see you light and free
Desperate to see you unbound even if it meant you don't choose me
I had to have a part of you even if it couldn't last
And I would break my heart for you if that is what you asked
You never pushed me to the side, you never walked away
And all my aching darkness was enchanted by your day
I would have given everything to stay with you by the sea
A perfect fragile sunlit world, known just to you and me
But I am not a lovely thing, although try I might
To remember how the daytime feels and walk out of the night
You are lambent and unfettered, your freedom unconstrained
And I still love you always, through my shadows and my chains
If there is a space between us, I know that I'm to blame
And if you're angry with me then I deserve that bitter flame
I did what I had to do, I thought, to make it right
I'm still here and I'm still me, captivated by your light
I know I walk a strange path now, but I don't want to be alone
Guide me with your starlight, love, I'll always come back home
And if this broken, wretched world is more than you can stand
You'll always find I reach for you, and I hope you take my hand.
Now I sit here, with this singed hand holding the pages burnt and curled from the heat, I recognize what these strange emotions are, that have intoxicated my mind to do such a thing. But for these words, to save these words, I know it was worth any burn.
May these words never be lost, no matter who comes to tear you down, I will be there, as you were there for me.
Here is, a poem written by Savio Pontelaeus.
I'm calling it: Star-Crossed
I met you when you were broken, and so perhaps was I
We saw a hundred sightless corpses beneath a cold, indifferent sky
I reached to find you still there, and I didn't understand
The loss that would unmake me if you hadn't raised your hand
I saw you when you suffered and I wish I could have known
Exactly what it did to you when you were left alone
I knew I was a fractured thing, unworthy, lost and poor
But every time you said my name, I fell, I wanted more
I wanted to see you smile, wanted to see you light and free
Desperate to see you unbound even if it meant you don't choose me
I had to have a part of you even if it couldn't last
And I would break my heart for you if that is what you asked
You never pushed me to the side, you never walked away
And all my aching darkness was enchanted by your day
I would have given everything to stay with you by the sea
A perfect fragile sunlit world, known just to you and me
But I am not a lovely thing, although try I might
To remember how the daytime feels and walk out of the night
You are lambent and unfettered, your freedom unconstrained
And I still love you always, through my shadows and my chains
If there is a space between us, I know that I'm to blame
And if you're angry with me then I deserve that bitter flame
I did what I had to do, I thought, to make it right
I'm still here and I'm still me, captivated by your light
I know I walk a strange path now, but I don't want to be alone
Guide me with your starlight, love, I'll always come back home
And if this broken, wretched world is more than you can stand
You'll always find I reach for you, and I hope you take my hand.
Please note that the scholars may take some time preparing your journal for others to read.