Written By Baz
Jan. 16, 2021, 2:22 p.m.(10/6/1014 AR)
Watching two Silks settle whose coin purse was bigger was a remarkably disgusting display. With all that excess silver they ought to hire someone to think for them.
Written By Kastelon
Jan. 16, 2021, 2:10 p.m.(10/6/1014 AR)
When next I am considering what to learn in my adventures in soldiering, perhaps it is not swordplay that I ought seek to master, but dodging. I am clearly not as evasive as I'd thought. That, and perhaps poetic justice that it's not a sword that caught me, but another archer's arrow.
My shoulder should heal, I hope, before anything too serious comes lumbering into my path again. If life is kind.
My shoulder should heal, I hope, before anything too serious comes lumbering into my path again. If life is kind.
Written By Ciro
Jan. 16, 2021, 1:27 p.m.(10/6/1014 AR)
I now have 24 bottles of two failed blends that I must do away with.
pouring them out seems like a crime, and sharing them after their dismal performance not something I can bring myself to do.
And so I will drink them. To my future self when I finally sober up, I am sorry.
pouring them out seems like a crime, and sharing them after their dismal performance not something I can bring myself to do.
And so I will drink them. To my future self when I finally sober up, I am sorry.
Written By Ember
Jan. 16, 2021, 12:20 p.m.(10/6/1014 AR)
Today, I set sail, hunting Skal'dajans alongside my fellow Islanders.
In the event that I do not return, Lady Marina shall be the Baroness of Redreef Shores, and I trust her to tend to my outstanding affairs as she deems necessary.
I shall return, though. No Skal'dajan is strong enough to kill me.
In the event that I do not return, Lady Marina shall be the Baroness of Redreef Shores, and I trust her to tend to my outstanding affairs as she deems necessary.
I shall return, though. No Skal'dajan is strong enough to kill me.
Written By Dio
Jan. 16, 2021, 11:35 a.m.(10/6/1014 AR)
Relationship Note on Raja
I'd worked with Raja when the whirlpool remained in the harbor, and the people of Arx were rioting. She and her family were among those who took decisive action to see that people with the most need did not starve. The fruit and salted fish of Ischia found their way into the hands of the desperate - and not the crooked profiteers - by Raja's expertise and connections.
When one of my own pirates betrayed her oath, Raja was among those who hunted her down. There is a story told of Raja by Captain Tancred - and it is worth noting here that Tancred, unlike Anne, who will embellish any story to make it more appealing for her audience, hates to be the center of attention, and thus speaks only facts, and those very reluctantly. By this good man's account, Raja Culler leapt aboard the betrayer's vessel while Lord Ian was engaged with several members of the crew. She apparently took down one of their best, and clove his head from his body. She raised the blood-spattered trophy high into the air, and her roar terrified the remaining sailors, who threw down their weapons and either surrendered or leapt overboard, lest they be the next to fall to her wrath.
Yet the terrors inspired by Raja are reserved for those who deserve them, and the Liberator did me the honor of accompanying me to our gala in the Golden Hart. Dressed in a gown tailored by the gifted Whisper Ilira, Raja shown brilliantly, and danced with her kin and friends among the great peers of Arx, while Duke Harlan displayed immense generosity, taste and respect for his wife, when he donated a vast sum to acquire the pride of Ischian jewelers for Duchess Lisebet Ashford.
In the struggle to bring order out of chaos, I asked for Raja's help, and she agreed. She spoke to the traders and sailors of the Isle of Markets with candor, and spoke to my enemies in the elemental language of fear. As the wealth of the Saffron Chain pours into Arx through the trusted traders of the Cullers and Seraceni, I raise my glass to Raja, and look forward to our next adventure.
When one of my own pirates betrayed her oath, Raja was among those who hunted her down. There is a story told of Raja by Captain Tancred - and it is worth noting here that Tancred, unlike Anne, who will embellish any story to make it more appealing for her audience, hates to be the center of attention, and thus speaks only facts, and those very reluctantly. By this good man's account, Raja Culler leapt aboard the betrayer's vessel while Lord Ian was engaged with several members of the crew. She apparently took down one of their best, and clove his head from his body. She raised the blood-spattered trophy high into the air, and her roar terrified the remaining sailors, who threw down their weapons and either surrendered or leapt overboard, lest they be the next to fall to her wrath.
Yet the terrors inspired by Raja are reserved for those who deserve them, and the Liberator did me the honor of accompanying me to our gala in the Golden Hart. Dressed in a gown tailored by the gifted Whisper Ilira, Raja shown brilliantly, and danced with her kin and friends among the great peers of Arx, while Duke Harlan displayed immense generosity, taste and respect for his wife, when he donated a vast sum to acquire the pride of Ischian jewelers for Duchess Lisebet Ashford.
In the struggle to bring order out of chaos, I asked for Raja's help, and she agreed. She spoke to the traders and sailors of the Isle of Markets with candor, and spoke to my enemies in the elemental language of fear. As the wealth of the Saffron Chain pours into Arx through the trusted traders of the Cullers and Seraceni, I raise my glass to Raja, and look forward to our next adventure.
Written By Mabelle
Jan. 16, 2021, 10:37 a.m.(10/6/1014 AR)
Relationship Note on Cristoph
I have taken off my cousin's cast.
Unfortunately, he did not let me smash it the fun way like with a saw or a hammer or a chisel.
He wanted to do it the normal, safe, traditional way.
I need a hobby.
Unfortunately, he did not let me smash it the fun way like with a saw or a hammer or a chisel.
He wanted to do it the normal, safe, traditional way.
I need a hobby.
Written By Gwenna
Jan. 16, 2021, 6:18 a.m.(10/6/1014 AR)
Relationship Note on Andrina
A couple of weeks ago I found myself at Jayus' Shrine, hoping for some inspiration I suppose. I found it, though not in the way that I had imagined. I met Andrina Thornburn, of the famous Thornburns, an artist who I had already been hearing about a bit in the city. I hadn't expected to have such a delightful conversation which weaved between discussions of art to our origins and families. The way she described combining materials for her sculptures for the effects she hoped to create was nothing short of brilliant. I was, indeed, quite inspired when I left the shrine and am so glad our paths happened to cross. I very much look forward to seeing her future sculptures! Especially as I missed out on purchasing one she that was recently for sale.
Written By Decius
Jan. 15, 2021, 11:34 p.m.(10/5/1014 AR)
I was asked if I have any form of standards when looking for a social partner. Not having weapons, lethal or otherwise, is a good start. Too many times being chased with a cleaver. Any my cousin says I do not learn.
Written By Decius
Jan. 15, 2021, 11:32 p.m.(10/5/1014 AR)
Relationship Note on Mabelle
I must craft her a helm/mask for when she tries to stop sword hilts in the future.
Written By Sunaia
Jan. 15, 2021, 11:31 p.m.(10/5/1014 AR)
Scholar, you're going to expect that I would write exactly how it went -- (document it accurately -- through my eyes -- not the same) and I honestly am not in the mood to make it such a simple metaphor. But, I am:
Sometimes it's whiskey -- sometimes it's gin.
That'll do.
Sometimes it's whiskey -- sometimes it's gin.
That'll do.
Written By Margot
Jan. 15, 2021, 11:19 p.m.(10/5/1014 AR)
I know we of the Mourning Isles believe that it is not a woman's place to be at sea, but every time my feet leave the mainland I remember how much it feels like home. Do our husbands and brothers and fathers and sons keep us land locked because they know we have salt in our blood too? Because they fear our cooler heads will lead us to outshine them if we're unfettered and let loose upon the world? Least we leave them home to tend to their own offspring while we have adventures for once?
Port Defiance is mirror, in it one may see themselves in reverse, sometimes warped or distorted, sometimes true. It is a place where all shades of grey thrive and there is very little black and very little white. It is a place where I always see the other path; the life I might have had if one man had turned down a different hallway, opened a different door and found a different girl to bring home to the Old Serpent.
It is also the place I remembered who and what I am. I am the last remaining child of Titus Tyde and to the abyss with anyone who thinks that makes me something to be trifled with.
--- To those who in past thought that because I was a daughter, not a son, you had discretion in deciding which of my orders you heeded I expect you will regret that shortly.
I come back now to my skirts and tea and folios of ledgers and reports but I will not forget again that that I can don that skin when I need it.
Port Defiance is mirror, in it one may see themselves in reverse, sometimes warped or distorted, sometimes true. It is a place where all shades of grey thrive and there is very little black and very little white. It is a place where I always see the other path; the life I might have had if one man had turned down a different hallway, opened a different door and found a different girl to bring home to the Old Serpent.
It is also the place I remembered who and what I am. I am the last remaining child of Titus Tyde and to the abyss with anyone who thinks that makes me something to be trifled with.
--- To those who in past thought that because I was a daughter, not a son, you had discretion in deciding which of my orders you heeded I expect you will regret that shortly.
I come back now to my skirts and tea and folios of ledgers and reports but I will not forget again that that I can don that skin when I need it.
Written By Medeia
Jan. 15, 2021, 10:10 p.m.(10/5/1014 AR)
I've been trying to write a letter to my mother, in the wake of the events of recent days, and the word of what is to come, I thought I might try and reconnect with her. My father? I think there is no reconciliation there. And it is perhaps a futile exercise - as the pile of crumpled parchment on my desk may attest. What do you say to the people who raised you to be expendable to the family and then pretend you don't exist after making a difficult choice to protect them? How does someone look their child in the eye and tell them they betrayed their family, when their family betrayed the child first? And then pass that child in the village for five years and act as if the child is invisible? Do they know I married? Surely the announcement reached them. Possibly from Lucita or Neilda or Arcelia. Do they care I finally fulfilled the goal they set for me, to be wed off to secure an ally for the house?
When I say it like that, it sounds dreadful. None of this is to say that I am unhappy. I am consistently happier than I ever thought I could be. But I always thought I'd have my mother's guidance through courtship. Her opinion on the dress and decor for the wedding. That, when the day comes to navigate having my own children, she would be there with advice and a helping hand. I couldn't even turn to her to support one another through the sorrow of the loss of her brother. I am not lonely, but I am certainly feeling the loss of a woman who is yet breathing and well. And, in the most ironic twist of the story, the very family my parents shun me for betraying has been replaced - and that house has shown me more kindness in the last year than my own parents have shown me in the last decade.
I can't bring myself to write the letter. Perhaps, in the event that I die in the coming war, someone can send her a copy of this journal instead. Maybe that person could tell her that in the days leading up to my death I missed her, but that I wasn't sorry for anything I had done. That my husband and new family had been good to me and accepted me fully, but that nothing and no one had ever replaced her.
And now? I write my will.
When I say it like that, it sounds dreadful. None of this is to say that I am unhappy. I am consistently happier than I ever thought I could be. But I always thought I'd have my mother's guidance through courtship. Her opinion on the dress and decor for the wedding. That, when the day comes to navigate having my own children, she would be there with advice and a helping hand. I couldn't even turn to her to support one another through the sorrow of the loss of her brother. I am not lonely, but I am certainly feeling the loss of a woman who is yet breathing and well. And, in the most ironic twist of the story, the very family my parents shun me for betraying has been replaced - and that house has shown me more kindness in the last year than my own parents have shown me in the last decade.
I can't bring myself to write the letter. Perhaps, in the event that I die in the coming war, someone can send her a copy of this journal instead. Maybe that person could tell her that in the days leading up to my death I missed her, but that I wasn't sorry for anything I had done. That my husband and new family had been good to me and accepted me fully, but that nothing and no one had ever replaced her.
And now? I write my will.
Written By Ciro
Jan. 15, 2021, 9:34 p.m.(10/5/1014 AR)
Well the rum contest has come and went and I am left with disappointment.
I am disappointed by the fact that it was not some grand distillery that won the competition and snuffed out my hopes for my bottles but a Prince and Princess who took the night and the contest.
But above all I am mostly disappointed in myself. I have put so much time into those two to get the mixture just right and to where I felt I could do no better. All that work, all those hours of making adjustments and notes and reworking things wasted.
Maybe Medeia was right that the place was cursed and so were we for obtaining it.
I am disappointed by the fact that it was not some grand distillery that won the competition and snuffed out my hopes for my bottles but a Prince and Princess who took the night and the contest.
But above all I am mostly disappointed in myself. I have put so much time into those two to get the mixture just right and to where I felt I could do no better. All that work, all those hours of making adjustments and notes and reworking things wasted.
Maybe Medeia was right that the place was cursed and so were we for obtaining it.
Written By Sloane
Jan. 15, 2021, 9:27 p.m.(10/5/1014 AR)
Crates and crates of rum yet not a pirate in sight. Do you have to sing an incantation? Must there be gangplanks? I'll suggest these for the next rum contest. It's all the competition needed to be perfect.
Written By Ida
Jan. 15, 2021, 6:33 p.m.(10/5/1014 AR)
I have sometimes joked in the past that the shop should probably be called Ferron Arms and Animal Rescue, for the number of wonderful creatures that often end up on the doorstep. Some as gifts, who are now beloved pets - Dopey from then-Lady Kima Saik, Runtystiltskin from Lady Niamh Greenmarch, Quill... I do not count the creepy mysterious dog statue among these much adored creatures, mind you. It seems a thing that prefers to be feared instead of adored. In any case, I ramble on. Walking out into the shop this morning, coffee in hand and ready to open up for the day, something stirred. Oaths and steel, if it had been that statue my hair would be white, but it wasn't. It was a cat, who behaved as though she'd been living in the shop longer than I'd owned it. Rigby did not seem amused, and even less so by her name. I mean, what's one more small mouth to feed in an ever-growing menagerie? Besides, I like her moxy.
Written By Mabelle
Jan. 15, 2021, 12:22 p.m.(10/4/1014 AR)
If anything, those repeating travels to Artshall and back will eventually bring something good with them.
Something soft?
Something hard?
Something delicious?
Who knows.
Maybe one.
Maybe all.
Something soft?
Something hard?
Something delicious?
Who knows.
Maybe one.
Maybe all.
Written By Lisebet
Jan. 15, 2021, 11:25 a.m.(10/4/1014 AR)
Today's tea is coffee. From Westrock Reach. It is delicious, though admittedly not tea at all.
But it comes with ginger cake, and that is always a good thing if you ask me.
I did go out to the Badger Boardinghouse with Harlan. We met up with Sunaia and princess Sabella for some adult conversation and cider. It was a nice diversion from all the goings on about war, missing livestock and so on.
It's good to keep up with such things where we can.
But it comes with ginger cake, and that is always a good thing if you ask me.
I did go out to the Badger Boardinghouse with Harlan. We met up with Sunaia and princess Sabella for some adult conversation and cider. It was a nice diversion from all the goings on about war, missing livestock and so on.
It's good to keep up with such things where we can.
Written By Adrienne
Jan. 15, 2021, 9:01 a.m.(10/4/1014 AR)
Relationship Note on Sebastian
It is a fearsome task to govern a vast territory in the midst of war. There is no doubt as to why the Archduchess entrusted House Pravus's affairs in Arx to Prince Sebastian's care. The ways of the south are foreign to me; but the goals - family, freedom, glory - these are as at home in Setarco as Sanctum. Sebastian is their champion. Tireless, peerless. Wherever we sail, we sail with him.
(My husband does not read the white journals except at point of sword. This means, barring intervention, I can praise him untroubled, my duty to Vellichor done.)
(My husband does not read the white journals except at point of sword. This means, barring intervention, I can praise him untroubled, my duty to Vellichor done.)
Written By Piccola
Jan. 15, 2021, 8:42 a.m.(10/4/1014 AR)
The fear of abandonment or exile is only a threat to those who have felt a sense of belonging.
Written By Monique
Jan. 15, 2021, 3:36 a.m.(10/3/1014 AR)
Relationship Note on Lexir
The gown, slippers and veil of Olivetta and a type of revenge. This trip has been unforgettable. Well worth the horror of crossing the seas. He is a shining example of Pravus at its best.
Please note that the scholars may take some time preparing your journal for others to read.