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Written By Kastelon

Nov. 15, 2020, 8:43 a.m.(5/21/1014 AR)

An interesting meeting last night, all told.

My cousin the Marquis has seen fit to entrust to me the command of a troop of archers for the coming war with the Eurusi. On a ship. *A SHIP*. And further, to train our companies of archers before and after the conflict to come.

I had feared perhaps that I would be left behind as a rear guard after what happened at the Queensrest. Trust in one's judgement and abilities can be very fragile in these turbulent times. I will make my family and house proud.

Written By Emberly

Nov. 15, 2020, 8:11 a.m.(5/21/1014 AR)

Even when all lights go out
Lagoma is with you.

I have never made a poison in my life...
Those that believe I would do not know my heart.

Written By Tamsin

Nov. 15, 2020, 8:04 a.m.(5/21/1014 AR)

Relationship Note on Medeia

(In each corner, a small barrel is drawn. In the right margin, shafts of wheat. In the left margin, grapevines with a solitary cluster of grapes in the middle).

I saw an denouncement that Lady Medeia is engaged to Lord Haakon. I'll have to make sure to use my invitation to have drinks with her before she's moved out of Saik and no longer overseeing their drinks.

Written By Tamsin

Nov. 15, 2020, 7:59 a.m.(5/21/1014 AR)

(At the top of the page, in the right corner, delicate ink linework traces out the image of the Cathedral of Arx with its doors thrown wide open and flames starting to lick out against the outer stonework. Featureless robed figures stand around the front, In the lower left corner is drawn a particular table inside the Queensrest Inn.)

Today I write of irony, of endings, and how a middle can bring with it the cut threads of ending.

I write of irony, because those who shout so loudly that tradition must be followed (and do so in a way to break Lagoma's charge of change, Petrichor's sanctuary, Limerance's fidelity) have defiled a building that by tradition and faith law is inviolate. Men and women who would rather bow to Eurus than follow their rightful lords set fire to the Cathedral of Arx.

I write of endings, because the same group, those who follow the Apostate Ivan, killed many in their attacks. Not just at the Cathedral. Not just in a ward of the city. They took to the Queensrest and brought an end to our Dominus, Orazio.

But this isn't the end of the tale. No one is going to let this stop here. There will be judgement called on such foul people and from these events more stories will split off in beginnings, and more will find theirs ended.

Written By Sydney

Nov. 15, 2020, 5:52 a.m.(5/21/1014 AR)

Do not underestimate the effect that a night of revelry can have on your spirits, especially in these trying times. It's tempting to furrow one's brow, and be nothing but dour, dour, dour.

Lest I'm accused of putting the cart before the horse, I know loss, and I know what blood on my hands feels like just as well. I'd be a sharding liar of the highest order if I claimed that either of these things don't dampen the mood and darken the spirits, but the moment that you allow yourself to turn opaque, you may not be letting darkness in, but you'll also let no light through.

Let yourself feel what you're feeling. Feel it with a trusted friend if it's of the utmost secrecy, but also allow yourself to speak it to absolute strangers if it's not.

People will surprise you with their capacity for empathy - even those that you might not suspect.

So grab a pint, a glass, a shot, a half-dozen shots, or whatever your poison of choice may be, and allow yourself to let go of some of that weight, or you can rest assured, you will hold it. And there's nothing more miserable than carrying that weight alone. So says Sydney Waterfall, channeling her inner Whisper from prolonged exposure to their finest ranks.

Written By Oriana

Nov. 15, 2020, 2:51 a.m.(5/21/1014 AR)

Returning to Arx is always such a strange feeling. The cliffs of Caina are home... but I'll admit that there's a lot of fun in the capital.

Written By Cambria

Nov. 15, 2020, 2:31 a.m.(5/21/1014 AR)

Ten years is not a long time in the life of Man. The older you get, the more you learn to appreciate this. Yet ten years ago from where we are today feels like a lifetime ago. I doubt anyone could have predicted where we would be at this point.

Written By Griffin

Nov. 15, 2020, 2 a.m.(5/21/1014 AR)

My heart is heavy. It would seem we are going to war. There's a difference between talking about at, and seeing your front gates all covered in blood. Ember grits her teeth and tells them to try and take her down; she'll die trying I'm afraid.

Shyanne has made the move between flirting, to taking it one steps closer. And I? Not so many months ago I would have considered it. Now? But then again, she's different..

Of course, Wash has begun a one man campaign to introduce me to my 'wife'. It was a joke on its outset, and began to work over time, until it wasn't a joke. I think. Too many things were happening at once, including some poetry from before my muse stopped.

It seems to me the words, even from before, are dead. But then again I had a full bottle of wine that made me just a little bit woozy. Or I had nearly a full bottle of wine to drown the words, stuck in my mouth as they were.

Why can't I write? Not even prose.

I'm going to ask Wash just how serious he was..

Written By Sorrel

Nov. 14, 2020, 10:19 p.m.(5/20/1014 AR)

I think I figured out a Thing. I'm very excited about this. I hope that I am correct, but enough things point in that direction that I have a path to take.

Written By Raja

Nov. 14, 2020, 9:35 p.m.(5/20/1014 AR)

I want to take a moment to say how much I love my patron, Zoey. That is one DAMNED GOOD WOMAN!

Written By Raja

Nov. 14, 2020, 9:34 p.m.(5/20/1014 AR)

The riots took me by surprise. Well, I am not surprised they happened, I just didn't expect them to happen like /that/. I was in the Crimson Square, within the Seryn estate speaking with Iseulet when the riot began. I was not prepared for that. Well, mentally at least. Thankfully, my good gear and my training kicked in and helped me survive. The only blood that got on me was the blood of my enemy. It was delicious.

Written By Aleksei

Nov. 14, 2020, 9:12 p.m.(5/20/1014 AR)

Stones. Glass houses. Something like that.

Written By Rowenova

Nov. 14, 2020, 7:12 p.m.(5/20/1014 AR)

For making possible a certain set of wedding rings, thank yous go out to Mockingbird Evaristo, Goodman Asher, Goodwoman Ephrath, and Goodwoman Sorina: your help is greatly appreciated! Thank you!

Written By Raymesin

Nov. 14, 2020, 4:33 p.m.(5/20/1014 AR)

Relationship Note on Emberly

Welcome to life as a commoner, where they don't have to even acknowledge that you said anything and you get to curtsey when they're mean to you.

On the bright side, you can work for a living, or starve! On the less bright side, you're now at the mercy of the Iron Guard and the Inquisition.

Written By Sapphira

Nov. 14, 2020, 4:25 p.m.(5/20/1014 AR)

Relationship Note on Orazio

I never knew the Dominus, but I hear and see what is spoken and written about him. I wish I had known him. One so great of heart has left behind a song that not even an assassin's blade can silence--a song that so many of you already sing in your writings. It is up to us all now to sing for one who can no longer.

Perhaps we, then, are part of the legacy he leaves behind. Let us all do his memory honor.

Written By Venturo

Nov. 14, 2020, 4:04 p.m.(5/20/1014 AR)

Relationship Note on Caprice

I had the pleasure of meeting Mistress Caprice in the Raconteur one evening, where we shared stories and thoughts on what makes a fine drink. In addition, I had learned at the time of her own work in the arts, specifically with cloth of all kinds. I've had the good luck for an excuse to engage her services, and so far? The experience has been downright delightful. Taking what vague, fleeting thoughts of an idea crossed my mind, she has been able to capture it in concept far better than I could have hoped.

Written By Piccola

Nov. 14, 2020, 3:38 p.m.(5/20/1014 AR)

I hear there is a place of where people live without the fear of war or strife. I hear that its citizens voluntarily bind themselves to those who with power in order to enjoy such peace. I hear it is a place of wonder and beauty.

I hope one day to visit.

For those tempered by cruel vicissitude, no criticism holds value. Our ears bend to those in the arena with us, whose faces are marred by dust and sweat and blood. A wise general marks well those who strive valiantly -- who errs and comes short again and again -- because there is no effort without error and no achievement without shortcoming. Those who do the deeds share their tables with those who know the great enthusiasms and devotions of those who spends their lives in a well-fought and worthy cause. All others stand, no matter their seat, outside of such halls.

To the Dominus, I am certain that he knew in the end the triumph of high achievement.

To my Peers, remember best those who at their worst fail while daring greatly, and fight alongside those who would do the same, so that we shall never be with those cold and timid souls who know neither victory nor defeat.

Written By Strozza

Nov. 14, 2020, 3:32 p.m.(5/20/1014 AR)

Hours spent in curiosity wondering at wall
Do you see spirits or specter standing tall?
Does spider creep or something to apall?
Likely my time wondering wasted over naught at all.

Written By Strozza

Nov. 14, 2020, 3:11 p.m.(5/20/1014 AR)

Silent like the moth above
Together locked in silent dance
None looks to my victory askance
Shredding it quiet as a dove.

Written By Valdemar

Nov. 14, 2020, 2:40 p.m.(5/20/1014 AR)

Relationship Note on Perronne

Things have changed since you last came to our lands. We are in the process of freeing our thralls and ensuring that they either find homes elsewhere, if that is what they wish, or that they have well-paying, productive jobs if they choose to stay. Educating them, if necessary, at great expense. And in doing so, making ourselves a target of men and women who have no honor.

So do not presume to know my reasons for anything. You very clearly know nothing of me, nor of what I've done, to be able to judge by. You don't even seem to understand that what I wrote about Mistress Zyanya's words were not a criticism of her, a person whose company I've enjoyed in the past, but rather of a place that she was singing the praises of.

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