Written By Lucita
Nov. 19, 2020, 7:27 p.m.(6/2/1014 AR)
All was as I expected it to be. I've got to try to stop thinking about it.
Written By Elloise
Nov. 19, 2020, 6:05 p.m.(6/2/1014 AR)
Relationship Note on Orland
You need to speak to a Harlequin! Maybe not me, but some Harlequin! Or me, I suppose.
Written By Branwen
Nov. 19, 2020, 1:29 p.m.(6/2/1014 AR)
Relationship Note on Aahana
A noble prodigal who has found her place in Arx. Perhaps I can learn from her.
Written By Orland
Nov. 19, 2020, 11:04 a.m.(6/1/1014 AR)
Thoughts of a student:
The concept of the Wheel is an interesting one. The announcements of a great person passing was in turn spoken with, reverence about him returning to the Wheel. While our physical forms may die a thousand different ways, the concept seems to express that something not physical about us, returns to this Wheel. What is the Wheel? Why does something non-physical about us, return to this Wheel? What is the purpose of returning to the Wheel? Does that mean, some part of us, never dies? How does this non-physical part of ourselves get off the Wheel? And what happens if the Wheel stops turning? Is that possible. What if the Wheel is broken? Is the Wheel then our enslaver? Does going back to the Wheel mean we can never truly die, forced to come back time and time again? Is that not a cruelty? Does that not take away our Choice? Or do we Choose to come off the Wheel? Then if the Wheel exists, then Elysia and the Abyss do not?
A mentor might be needed.
The concept of the Wheel is an interesting one. The announcements of a great person passing was in turn spoken with, reverence about him returning to the Wheel. While our physical forms may die a thousand different ways, the concept seems to express that something not physical about us, returns to this Wheel. What is the Wheel? Why does something non-physical about us, return to this Wheel? What is the purpose of returning to the Wheel? Does that mean, some part of us, never dies? How does this non-physical part of ourselves get off the Wheel? And what happens if the Wheel stops turning? Is that possible. What if the Wheel is broken? Is the Wheel then our enslaver? Does going back to the Wheel mean we can never truly die, forced to come back time and time again? Is that not a cruelty? Does that not take away our Choice? Or do we Choose to come off the Wheel? Then if the Wheel exists, then Elysia and the Abyss do not?
A mentor might be needed.
Written By Elloise
Nov. 19, 2020, 10:10 a.m.(6/1/1014 AR)
How surprising it is to learn that I, as a disciple to the Queen of Endings, have been "censured" by a very odd little man called Waldo! Condemned! Reprimanded! Castigated! Reproached. Dressed down. Remonstrated.
Funny, I don't feel any different.
Funny, I don't feel any different.
Written By Mabelle
Nov. 19, 2020, 4:29 a.m.(6/1/1014 AR)
Metal statues stand in the hall
Stories of heroes standing so tall
The truth doesn’t exactly fall into theme
But nothing is ever quite as it seems.
A young girl gets married, excited she is
Her husband is wealthy, everyone’s pleased
No one realized all that he schemes
Because nothing is ever quite as it seems.
A war about freedom, traditions and rights
A war of religion, choose for which side you’ll fight
But the game is not played by any of these teams
Since nothing is ever quite as it seems.
The Lady is a beauty, a picture of grace
Not one word spoken is ever out of place,
But her heart is filled with conflict beyond your wildest dreams
For nothing is ever quite as it seems.
Inexorable trouble fashioned into chunks
Each more powerful, malefic and dark
The plan is completely busting at the seams
Oh, nothing is ever quite as it seems.
A man collapses despite physician’s esteem,
His dreams are haunted by destruction and screams,
But we’ll keep casting our hopes and fears to the very same streams
Don’t we know that nothing is ever quite as it seems?
Stories of heroes standing so tall
The truth doesn’t exactly fall into theme
But nothing is ever quite as it seems.
A young girl gets married, excited she is
Her husband is wealthy, everyone’s pleased
No one realized all that he schemes
Because nothing is ever quite as it seems.
A war about freedom, traditions and rights
A war of religion, choose for which side you’ll fight
But the game is not played by any of these teams
Since nothing is ever quite as it seems.
The Lady is a beauty, a picture of grace
Not one word spoken is ever out of place,
But her heart is filled with conflict beyond your wildest dreams
For nothing is ever quite as it seems.
Inexorable trouble fashioned into chunks
Each more powerful, malefic and dark
The plan is completely busting at the seams
Oh, nothing is ever quite as it seems.
A man collapses despite physician’s esteem,
His dreams are haunted by destruction and screams,
But we’ll keep casting our hopes and fears to the very same streams
Don’t we know that nothing is ever quite as it seems?
Written By Raymesin
Nov. 19, 2020, 3:40 a.m.(6/1/1014 AR)
Relationship Note on Esme
You're fine. He only 'excommunicated' the Standing-In-For-The-Dominus-Until-It-Gets-Sorted-Properly and the Archlectors of Skald and the Queen of Endings, and 'censured' the Harlequins and the Liberators. Everyone else is fine, because he can't afford to upset the whole Faith, just the corners of it that he doesn't want.
You're a disciple of a god he claims to represent in all righteousness, but how that works when he's proven himself faithful to a man rather than the church, I don't know. When he's broken the oath of the Godsworn like that, or at least bent it into some strange shapes, I don't know how he thinks he can represent Limerance as well as the Sentinel and Gloria and all the others. Sanctuary broken, the Cathedral's interior burned, and him sweeping in before Orazio
And if anyone wants to debate whether my goddess is real or not with me, while standing in Death's own city and using Skald's freedom to choose, they're welcome to do so. Me, I'm taking it as a badge of honour that I've been censured by someone whose friends tried to burn a holy sanctuary on their own island with healers and the wounded in it, and tried to kill a whole load of Templars along with Sungreet's own thralls. His censure means I'm walking a bit taller, because I've made an enemy there that anyone should be proud of having.
Thanks for tidying up what I actually said, Scholar. I appreciate it.
You're a disciple of a god he claims to represent in all righteousness, but how that works when he's proven himself faithful to a man rather than the church, I don't know. When he's broken the oath of the Godsworn like that, or at least bent it into some strange shapes, I don't know how he thinks he can represent Limerance as well as the Sentinel and Gloria and all the others. Sanctuary broken, the Cathedral's interior burned, and him sweeping in before Orazio
And if anyone wants to debate whether my goddess is real or not with me, while standing in Death's own city and using Skald's freedom to choose, they're welcome to do so. Me, I'm taking it as a badge of honour that I've been censured by someone whose friends tried to burn a holy sanctuary on their own island with healers and the wounded in it, and tried to kill a whole load of Templars along with Sungreet's own thralls. His censure means I'm walking a bit taller, because I've made an enemy there that anyone should be proud of having.
Thanks for tidying up what I actually said, Scholar. I appreciate it.
Written By Monique
Nov. 19, 2020, 2:57 a.m.(6/1/1014 AR)
Someone told me recently, talking about the very tricky subject of love, "If the world were ending, who would you go to? That's how you know." It's an interesting theory, and I pray I never have to find enlightenment that way.
Written By Lasha
Nov. 18, 2020, 10:58 p.m.(5/28/1014 AR)
There’s a deepness that every old man feels, that every old woman knows, and that the young never feel until they’ve lived: A deep chasm that an old man can look out over and see the years of his life spread out in front of him. He sees how deep and wide it is, how many moments makes up its walls, and for that old man, it brings peace and contentment.
But, it is a thing of sorrow when a young man is forced to see that chasm before his time, to see how much or how little his life matters to the things surrounding it. And, I swear, as I looked into a lordlings eyes today, I knew that he had looked into that chasm and what he saw was a vast divide full of nothing; no green valley, no rivers of happy times, or sadness, or broad floodplains of peace and tranquility before rapids of strife. It was an empty void that if not careful he’d throw himself into before praying for his early death. If there is one thing I do before I die in war, or drowning at sea, or expiring from old age, it will be to show that lordling that family is more than parentage, blood and the privilege of the purse. It is a life well lived full of experiences, tied together with others to form a great deepness filled with a beautiful landscape made of moments.
But, it is a thing of sorrow when a young man is forced to see that chasm before his time, to see how much or how little his life matters to the things surrounding it. And, I swear, as I looked into a lordlings eyes today, I knew that he had looked into that chasm and what he saw was a vast divide full of nothing; no green valley, no rivers of happy times, or sadness, or broad floodplains of peace and tranquility before rapids of strife. It was an empty void that if not careful he’d throw himself into before praying for his early death. If there is one thing I do before I die in war, or drowning at sea, or expiring from old age, it will be to show that lordling that family is more than parentage, blood and the privilege of the purse. It is a life well lived full of experiences, tied together with others to form a great deepness filled with a beautiful landscape made of moments.
Written By Jaenelle
Nov. 18, 2020, 8:55 p.m.(5/28/1014 AR)
After many prayers, and many long hours of quiet contemplation, I have decided to become a disciple within the Harlequins. There is much to thank the Queen of Endings for.
Also now that I have joined, no one is dissolving anything. That just isn't a thing I approve of. Why must you upset me, Waldo?
Also now that I have joined, no one is dissolving anything. That just isn't a thing I approve of. Why must you upset me, Waldo?
Written By Elloise
Nov. 18, 2020, 7:28 p.m.(5/28/1014 AR)
Relationship Note on Raymesin
Oh, poor boot!
Written By Esme
Nov. 18, 2020, 6:23 p.m.(5/28/1014 AR)
Relationship Note on Lorenzo
Oh!
I got a patron. I've never had one, so if you want to send your condolences to Prince Lorenzo Redrain -- wine. Send wine. Or books, but I'm really going to attempt to take the books. He's like the best patron one could have. I'm excited.
I got a patron. I've never had one, so if you want to send your condolences to Prince Lorenzo Redrain -- wine. Send wine. Or books, but I'm really going to attempt to take the books. He's like the best patron one could have. I'm excited.
Written By Tanith
Nov. 18, 2020, 5:39 p.m.(5/28/1014 AR)
My husband is apparently a terrible influence.
This actually doesn't surprise me anymore.
This actually doesn't surprise me anymore.
Written By Esme
Nov. 18, 2020, 3:43 p.m.(5/28/1014 AR)
Excommunicated
As a disciple and Devotion, I suppose that means me. Something I don't think anyone would ever think in my life to see my name with, but I'm not really feeling anything too strong about it. I thought I would. I waited for the anger. It didn't come. I waited for the insult, it too was remiss to attend to me. I waited for the sorrow. Not a drop of sadness in this. Then I had to ponder why. I think it's because I know that my faith is more than how a person deems me.
Readers - if there are any -
Faith is a concept. It is in our core by my darlings, faith cannot be taken from us unless we give it. We are to love what Gods we honor. We are to have the faith we have no matter how we name them. I know, there is shock there. There is horror there, but please listen. A man made a statement. He excommunicated all of us. He said the faith was corrupt. He said the leaders were corrupt. He spoke his truth from his path, but that does not make it our truth on our paths. We must choose for ourselves. I choose to believe that Limerance knows my heart. I am a Devotion to a God that believes in duty, truth, honor, and the concepts of the goodness of man. I believe in all those concepts. I try to embrace and personify them, but I am in this form, a mere mortal. So I fail at that too. Instead, if these are read, perhaps the one that has excommunicated me, might be willing to sit down for tea?
Perhaps we might speak one on one for why these views are had. If not, that is fine as well. I will not tell a person their path, merely offer guidance to the road. For they must walk it and they must deal with where their footfalls have brought them.
Tonight though, instead of hatred, perhaps we meet it with love. Perhaps when we say our prayers to our Gods, we ask they turn the hearts of man back to the cause we believe in. That the men hear the call in their hearts to come home and we embrace them for that return. In a time of war and hatred, my darlings, sometimes the strongest knight is the one that still shows the acts of love.
May you each travel your paths safely and may you each feel that touch of love, even now.
As a disciple and Devotion, I suppose that means me. Something I don't think anyone would ever think in my life to see my name with, but I'm not really feeling anything too strong about it. I thought I would. I waited for the anger. It didn't come. I waited for the insult, it too was remiss to attend to me. I waited for the sorrow. Not a drop of sadness in this. Then I had to ponder why. I think it's because I know that my faith is more than how a person deems me.
Readers - if there are any -
Faith is a concept. It is in our core by my darlings, faith cannot be taken from us unless we give it. We are to love what Gods we honor. We are to have the faith we have no matter how we name them. I know, there is shock there. There is horror there, but please listen. A man made a statement. He excommunicated all of us. He said the faith was corrupt. He said the leaders were corrupt. He spoke his truth from his path, but that does not make it our truth on our paths. We must choose for ourselves. I choose to believe that Limerance knows my heart. I am a Devotion to a God that believes in duty, truth, honor, and the concepts of the goodness of man. I believe in all those concepts. I try to embrace and personify them, but I am in this form, a mere mortal. So I fail at that too. Instead, if these are read, perhaps the one that has excommunicated me, might be willing to sit down for tea?
Perhaps we might speak one on one for why these views are had. If not, that is fine as well. I will not tell a person their path, merely offer guidance to the road. For they must walk it and they must deal with where their footfalls have brought them.
Tonight though, instead of hatred, perhaps we meet it with love. Perhaps when we say our prayers to our Gods, we ask they turn the hearts of man back to the cause we believe in. That the men hear the call in their hearts to come home and we embrace them for that return. In a time of war and hatred, my darlings, sometimes the strongest knight is the one that still shows the acts of love.
May you each travel your paths safely and may you each feel that touch of love, even now.
Written By Evaristo
Nov. 18, 2020, 2:58 p.m.(5/28/1014 AR)
Whitepeak has left me with a sense of wonder and joy - I feel there's so much possibility. It was JUST as I expected it to be! I am marvelling at this splendid, magnificent city with all the AMAZING stuff.
I'll tell you all about it one day, too much to take in and process at the moment.
I'll tell you all about it one day, too much to take in and process at the moment.
Written By Tyrus
Nov. 18, 2020, 1:29 p.m.(5/28/1014 AR)
Strange how being stuck in bed has led to making so many meetings. I'm not sure what that says about my social life.
I am grateful for the Physicians and Mercies who have and continue to take care of my health. I've not grown any worse and that's already a positive.
I suppose I should slow down with the meetings and rest more, yet there are still things that need to be done, matters investigated.
Most of my body may have withered away, but the mind is still there, Scholar. And a mind always hungers.
I am grateful for the Physicians and Mercies who have and continue to take care of my health. I've not grown any worse and that's already a positive.
I suppose I should slow down with the meetings and rest more, yet there are still things that need to be done, matters investigated.
Most of my body may have withered away, but the mind is still there, Scholar. And a mind always hungers.
Written By Raymesin
Nov. 18, 2020, 10:44 a.m.(5/27/1014 AR)
Relationship Note on Hamish
I'll hold Waldo while you put the boot in. What else could a loyal protege do?
Written By Lisebet
Nov. 18, 2020, 9:43 a.m.(5/27/1014 AR)
I don't often read journal entries, but I skimmed through today. I see a lovely song from Princess Sorrel which I hope to be able to sing, with her permission. It's good right now to pray.
And to act.
Which means this will be yet another short journal entry as I have messages to send.
And to act.
Which means this will be yet another short journal entry as I have messages to send.
Written By Piccola
Nov. 18, 2020, 9:43 a.m.(5/27/1014 AR)
The peace we seek, wise general, lies in our hearts.
There it finds glorious expression when we look beyond any differences in religion or tribe. It makes itself known when it rejoices in the beauty of every soul. It compels us to act with compassion and empathy. It chides us when we labor to divide ourselves along lines of belief or territory.
For those who refuse to hear the quiet voice in their heart, they condemn themselves to everlasting war.
Some will be ready. Others, not so. It is the place of the just ruler to ensure that our peace is known and lasts. It is the place of the wise general to ensure that such peace is preserved against those who seek war.
So know well who you are.
There it finds glorious expression when we look beyond any differences in religion or tribe. It makes itself known when it rejoices in the beauty of every soul. It compels us to act with compassion and empathy. It chides us when we labor to divide ourselves along lines of belief or territory.
For those who refuse to hear the quiet voice in their heart, they condemn themselves to everlasting war.
Some will be ready. Others, not so. It is the place of the just ruler to ensure that our peace is known and lasts. It is the place of the wise general to ensure that such peace is preserved against those who seek war.
So know well who you are.
Written By Hamish
Nov. 18, 2020, 9:19 a.m.(5/27/1014 AR)
When I heard the news I laughed.
It may not have been the most appropriate of responses, but I just couldn't believe the cheek of the man. A proclamation that starts with nonsense and goes from there into absurdity. Heresy? Excommunication? Dear Waldo, you have no authority over me. In fact, you have no authority over anyone. That's what happens when you choose a liege over the faith, when you choose a man over the gods. You may feel free to tell me that I am dismissed for my sins, but you might as well tell a cat to stop jumping up on the couch. To quote a god you have apparently decided you do not believe in, I do what I want.
But speaking to my friends and my loved ones I realized that the response from the others has been anger and fear. The more I talked to them the less funny it seemed. The more I spoke to her Harlequins the less funny it seemed. And the more I spoke to those who need our services and who love our Queen the less funny it seemed. It may not be evident, given that many people think of the Harlequins as a bunch of very cool people prone to wearing black and telling jokes, but we are one of the few formal discipleships who frequently make housecalls. Those who call on the Harlequins are often expectant mothers, new parents and the loved ones of the dying. We bring our Queen to wards from the Crown to the Lowers, as Death does not discriminate between souls. That his words would worry these parishioners of Death angers me. Her Harlequins are called to this service, service that could be seen as humble or service that could be seen as weird, service both esoteric and utterly prosaic, out of love for our Queen and love for her people. That his words would ask those who give of themselves for those who need it most to doubt their role and passion incenses me. That he would call out people like my colleague, Blessed Astrid Ulbran, my superior and a man whose faith is something on which we can all model ourselves, Father Aureth Grayhope, and the Queen of the Compact and someone I am proud to call my friend, Queen Symonesse Grayson, infuriates me.
But for all of that I cannot hate Goodman Waldo. I cannot even be angry with him. I am angry with his words, I am angry with his actions and I am disgusted by his cause, but I cannot find it in myself to despise the man.
I pity him.
His days are numbered. None of us can see the calendar of the rest of his life, but it is not one with a lot of pages. For me there is nothing so piteous as someone who refuses to believe in a goddess whose presence brings comfort to the dying. Who will refuse to acknowledge our Queen of Endings until justice has been brought to him and he has the opportunity to meet her first hand. Who will go to her with hate in his heart and know the shame of having that hate washed away by the love she has for him.
I pray for you, Goodman Waldo.
But you've upset my friends, so should the opportunity present it I may have to pray for you while kicking you in the groin.
It may not have been the most appropriate of responses, but I just couldn't believe the cheek of the man. A proclamation that starts with nonsense and goes from there into absurdity. Heresy? Excommunication? Dear Waldo, you have no authority over me. In fact, you have no authority over anyone. That's what happens when you choose a liege over the faith, when you choose a man over the gods. You may feel free to tell me that I am dismissed for my sins, but you might as well tell a cat to stop jumping up on the couch. To quote a god you have apparently decided you do not believe in, I do what I want.
But speaking to my friends and my loved ones I realized that the response from the others has been anger and fear. The more I talked to them the less funny it seemed. The more I spoke to her Harlequins the less funny it seemed. And the more I spoke to those who need our services and who love our Queen the less funny it seemed. It may not be evident, given that many people think of the Harlequins as a bunch of very cool people prone to wearing black and telling jokes, but we are one of the few formal discipleships who frequently make housecalls. Those who call on the Harlequins are often expectant mothers, new parents and the loved ones of the dying. We bring our Queen to wards from the Crown to the Lowers, as Death does not discriminate between souls. That his words would worry these parishioners of Death angers me. Her Harlequins are called to this service, service that could be seen as humble or service that could be seen as weird, service both esoteric and utterly prosaic, out of love for our Queen and love for her people. That his words would ask those who give of themselves for those who need it most to doubt their role and passion incenses me. That he would call out people like my colleague, Blessed Astrid Ulbran, my superior and a man whose faith is something on which we can all model ourselves, Father Aureth Grayhope, and the Queen of the Compact and someone I am proud to call my friend, Queen Symonesse Grayson, infuriates me.
But for all of that I cannot hate Goodman Waldo. I cannot even be angry with him. I am angry with his words, I am angry with his actions and I am disgusted by his cause, but I cannot find it in myself to despise the man.
I pity him.
His days are numbered. None of us can see the calendar of the rest of his life, but it is not one with a lot of pages. For me there is nothing so piteous as someone who refuses to believe in a goddess whose presence brings comfort to the dying. Who will refuse to acknowledge our Queen of Endings until justice has been brought to him and he has the opportunity to meet her first hand. Who will go to her with hate in his heart and know the shame of having that hate washed away by the love she has for him.
I pray for you, Goodman Waldo.
But you've upset my friends, so should the opportunity present it I may have to pray for you while kicking you in the groin.
Please note that the scholars may take some time preparing your journal for others to read.