Written By Martino
June 10, 2020, 7:27 a.m.(6/13/1013 AR)
Relationship Note on Kaia
Near-to a month apart with our recent projects have taken us to other parts of the Compact. Limerance has, though, always blessed and kept us safe when apart after the near-death on the day of our vows.
But, upon our return, where be the first place we visit together? Why the Botanical Gardens of course. The flowers starting their bloom and giving us the time to reflect together on the Compact, our world, and the next steps before us all.
But, upon our return, where be the first place we visit together? Why the Botanical Gardens of course. The flowers starting their bloom and giving us the time to reflect together on the Compact, our world, and the next steps before us all.
Written By Iseulet
June 10, 2020, 5:39 a.m.(6/13/1013 AR)
Relationship Note on Sirius
Thanks to him, I won't have to worry about my desk chair acting up again. He really taught it a lesson.
Antiques - who needs those anyway!
Antiques - who needs those anyway!
Written By Shard
June 10, 2020, 5:33 a.m.(6/13/1013 AR)
Relationship Note on Rymarr
I didn't really know Tescelina. We spoke in passing. I remember the name. I remember some of the conversations. She once showed me a letter five hundred years old that moved her to tears, and she wasn't afraid to show it. I don't remember, in any of those very brief moments, ever seeing her afraid. That's not a very good eulogy, though. It's what I have.
I knew Rymarr, but not well. We weren't exactly friends, or enemies; I think I'd describe him as a skilled commander and occasional asshole who trusted me to do my job enough that he kept calling me back to do more of it, even when I fucked up in some embarrassing ways. Distant but devoted to his duties and his family, if that even makes any sense. I went on several missions with him, for money and without. There's one in particular that I remember. It was a /very/ memorable trip.
It occurs to me that there are an awful lot of people from that mission who are dead or gone now. Aislin. Thena. Esoka. Now Rymarr. It's not a curse, of course, it's just time. Time and choices.
I knew Rymarr, but not well. We weren't exactly friends, or enemies; I think I'd describe him as a skilled commander and occasional asshole who trusted me to do my job enough that he kept calling me back to do more of it, even when I fucked up in some embarrassing ways. Distant but devoted to his duties and his family, if that even makes any sense. I went on several missions with him, for money and without. There's one in particular that I remember. It was a /very/ memorable trip.
It occurs to me that there are an awful lot of people from that mission who are dead or gone now. Aislin. Thena. Esoka. Now Rymarr. It's not a curse, of course, it's just time. Time and choices.
Written By Jourdain
June 10, 2020, 2:53 a.m.(6/13/1013 AR)
Relationship Note on Tescelina
Cousin, I have not forgotten the kindness you did me. You will be missed.
Written By Strozza
June 10, 2020, 12:44 a.m.(6/13/1013 AR)
A curious evening, full of information - I wonder if this should be my new birthday.
Written By Svana
June 9, 2020, 10:06 p.m.(6/12/1013 AR)
Is there a way to evict babies? I've been told that walking is a good way to get labor going, but my Gods and Spirits I am just so tired. And I'm even more tired of having 'practice' contractions. Please just come out already, I want to see you. And I'm tired of being pregnant.
Written By Sebastian
June 9, 2020, 9:47 p.m.(6/12/1013 AR)
"How does one join the Compact?" the Prince asked.
It helps to make the right decision when what you believe is challenged, to show up where you are needed, not where you are expected.
Thank you.
It helps to make the right decision when what you believe is challenged, to show up where you are needed, not where you are expected.
Thank you.
Written By Tanith
June 9, 2020, 9:43 p.m.(6/12/1013 AR)
"I'm used to fighting with my fists, Lord Commander. My weapon of choice is a barstool flung at close-range."
Written By Sebastian
June 9, 2020, 9:43 p.m.(6/12/1013 AR)
Relationship Note on Swift
A battle, even a battle won, rarely ends with satisfaction. That only comes much later, after you've accounted for the dead, and once the fog of exhaustion has lifted.
After it was all done, I sat beside you, covered in the blood of our enemies, the blood of the one who took your life; exhausted beyond measure, but with a vigil to maintain. I thought about how we met, all those moments we had. Future moments that will never be.
I'm not ashamed to admit I wept.
I told you a story that only belongs to you, now. I hope on some level you heard it. That it will give you comfort until you return on the wheel, to know that a thing never made is not a thing that is lost, but in progress.
After it was all done, I sat beside you, covered in the blood of our enemies, the blood of the one who took your life; exhausted beyond measure, but with a vigil to maintain. I thought about how we met, all those moments we had. Future moments that will never be.
I'm not ashamed to admit I wept.
I told you a story that only belongs to you, now. I hope on some level you heard it. That it will give you comfort until you return on the wheel, to know that a thing never made is not a thing that is lost, but in progress.
Written By Ravna
June 9, 2020, 7:56 p.m.(6/12/1013 AR)
Y-you need to watch both hands, man. Now, now. Watch again. Ready?
Haaa! Man, you're so fucking slow. Right, now, watch the blade- got'cha! You weren't watching both hands!
Whatddyameanthat'simpossible?!
Do it. C'mon. You just gotta do it, no mind, no thoughts, just do. Ready?
Ahhhh hahahahaha! See? See!? That, that's what it's like being in the thick of shit. Just, bullshit, coming from all over. You fucks write poetry about it and shitch'yeah? It's not poetic. It's disgusting. It's insanity. You'd need to be...well, a lil' mad to leap in like that! Ha!
..cheating? Maaaaaaan, ain't no rules in war. Don't let dummies fill your head with that bullshit. Yeah, my arms got extra hands, and you payed attention to the WRONG ONES! HA! You dead.
So, watch the knives...and know you're not seeing the knives. Look right here - RIGHT HERE, SCHOLAR! Right at my chest. Just watch...yeeeeaaaaah boy! You're SEEING now!
Hahahahaaaa. I mean, I never said I wouldn't knee your groin. I said I'd show you what I was talkin' about when I said the battlefield is nuts. Hahaha. Lookit your friend writing! Gonna piss himself. Mhm.
Haaa! Man, you're so fucking slow. Right, now, watch the blade- got'cha! You weren't watching both hands!
Whatddyameanthat'simpossible?!
Do it. C'mon. You just gotta do it, no mind, no thoughts, just do. Ready?
Ahhhh hahahahaha! See? See!? That, that's what it's like being in the thick of shit. Just, bullshit, coming from all over. You fucks write poetry about it and shitch'yeah? It's not poetic. It's disgusting. It's insanity. You'd need to be...well, a lil' mad to leap in like that! Ha!
..cheating? Maaaaaaan, ain't no rules in war. Don't let dummies fill your head with that bullshit. Yeah, my arms got extra hands, and you payed attention to the WRONG ONES! HA! You dead.
So, watch the knives...and know you're not seeing the knives. Look right here - RIGHT HERE, SCHOLAR! Right at my chest. Just watch...yeeeeaaaaah boy! You're SEEING now!
Hahahahaaaa. I mean, I never said I wouldn't knee your groin. I said I'd show you what I was talkin' about when I said the battlefield is nuts. Hahaha. Lookit your friend writing! Gonna piss himself. Mhm.
Written By Sirius
June 9, 2020, 6:21 p.m.(6/12/1013 AR)
You and I again, scholar,
To add to your pile of nonsense.
I have one friend from the North, one good friend; one friend who is no more my friend, but was, and I miss them dearly. I used to think they weren't, in fact, from the North- I had this ignorant belief that northerners were all stout, and tall, and resilient. Only one of those was, is, true.
For long I've entertained a fascination with heights. Peaks, the wind at my back, up and into that junction of arms and shoulders, feeling as if they elevate me. Recently, however, I've overdone it; I found a peak too cold too unkind for my Westernise blood.
I went North. Deep, into the forgotten realm somewhere near Bonespire, where winter is morrowless.
There, my breath appeared before me as though it were carried in purses of grey. A pain in my body started, slowly. Spits of snow. Winds that had come from ancient glaciers. One step sank my foot deep into the white powder and it was then I knew the rest of that journey would be a test of endurance.
I wonder how the women and men of old did it, living in those parts. They sat around campfires with all the world out to get them. Sat in the darkness surrounded by flurries of ice. Sat in isolation. They were born there, that must have been their trick. Ignorance was their warmth. Only a man who knows no better could live in a place such as that.
The company I entertained, guides and scouts, staggered and fell and couldn't get back up with quite the speed they used to. A few even took to coughing fits and others looked about ready to succumb to exhaustion. Only the strongest of the bunch could carry on without a hitch. It is those who surely share a link with the ancestors of that horrid land.
This friend of mine, they lived their whole life there. Surrounded by a predatory world whose very making is contrary to human decency. Perhaps I judged them too harshly.
Perhaps, like winter and spring, you cannot have one and the other together.
Only you could know, custodian.
To add to your pile of nonsense.
I have one friend from the North, one good friend; one friend who is no more my friend, but was, and I miss them dearly. I used to think they weren't, in fact, from the North- I had this ignorant belief that northerners were all stout, and tall, and resilient. Only one of those was, is, true.
For long I've entertained a fascination with heights. Peaks, the wind at my back, up and into that junction of arms and shoulders, feeling as if they elevate me. Recently, however, I've overdone it; I found a peak too cold too unkind for my Westernise blood.
I went North. Deep, into the forgotten realm somewhere near Bonespire, where winter is morrowless.
There, my breath appeared before me as though it were carried in purses of grey. A pain in my body started, slowly. Spits of snow. Winds that had come from ancient glaciers. One step sank my foot deep into the white powder and it was then I knew the rest of that journey would be a test of endurance.
I wonder how the women and men of old did it, living in those parts. They sat around campfires with all the world out to get them. Sat in the darkness surrounded by flurries of ice. Sat in isolation. They were born there, that must have been their trick. Ignorance was their warmth. Only a man who knows no better could live in a place such as that.
The company I entertained, guides and scouts, staggered and fell and couldn't get back up with quite the speed they used to. A few even took to coughing fits and others looked about ready to succumb to exhaustion. Only the strongest of the bunch could carry on without a hitch. It is those who surely share a link with the ancestors of that horrid land.
This friend of mine, they lived their whole life there. Surrounded by a predatory world whose very making is contrary to human decency. Perhaps I judged them too harshly.
Perhaps, like winter and spring, you cannot have one and the other together.
Only you could know, custodian.
Written By Haakon
June 9, 2020, 5:48 p.m.(6/12/1013 AR)
May the chain of true fealty never falter.
Written By Aleksei
June 9, 2020, 8:36 a.m.(6/11/1013 AR)
Til every chain is broken.
Written By Preston
June 9, 2020, 4:55 a.m.(6/11/1013 AR)
The downside of writing journals after battle with an arrow in your shoulder is that it can affect your focus.
In my writing I forgot the forces of Grayson under Prince Aindre, and sent by Princess Liara - they fought bravely, and lost and mourn with us all, and Prince Aindre should be commended for his bravery and skill. Indeed it was fleets of Grayson, Redrain, Thrax and the Lyceum - as well as of the Faith - that carried us to Sungreet so swiftly. Those Great Houses were willing to provide that when they had other pressing concerns, when they had every reason to look inwards, but they rejected this to consider the greater good. In the legends of our people, one who always has struck me is Dame Sugan. When a Great Lord proposed to ignore the call to Arx and unite against the enemy, saying that instead he would fortify his own hold, she burst in and shamed him for that - revealing him an imposter. Because without unity they will devour us piecemeal.
I cannot name all as defenders of the faith - in part because so many may render such a thing meaningless, but also because it seems to state the obvious that a High Lord defends the Faith. What I can give them though is the eternal gratitude of a young orphan boy who grew to be a Templar. And my promise that I stand by - in this fight against those who come to harm us because of the love the Gods bear for us? Who wish to tear down our perfection because it reflects their own corruption? The Templars will stand each time. Until we win, or until we fall.
In my writing I forgot the forces of Grayson under Prince Aindre, and sent by Princess Liara - they fought bravely, and lost and mourn with us all, and Prince Aindre should be commended for his bravery and skill. Indeed it was fleets of Grayson, Redrain, Thrax and the Lyceum - as well as of the Faith - that carried us to Sungreet so swiftly. Those Great Houses were willing to provide that when they had other pressing concerns, when they had every reason to look inwards, but they rejected this to consider the greater good. In the legends of our people, one who always has struck me is Dame Sugan. When a Great Lord proposed to ignore the call to Arx and unite against the enemy, saying that instead he would fortify his own hold, she burst in and shamed him for that - revealing him an imposter. Because without unity they will devour us piecemeal.
I cannot name all as defenders of the faith - in part because so many may render such a thing meaningless, but also because it seems to state the obvious that a High Lord defends the Faith. What I can give them though is the eternal gratitude of a young orphan boy who grew to be a Templar. And my promise that I stand by - in this fight against those who come to harm us because of the love the Gods bear for us? Who wish to tear down our perfection because it reflects their own corruption? The Templars will stand each time. Until we win, or until we fall.
Written By Tanith
June 9, 2020, 12:05 a.m.(6/11/1013 AR)
I risk death coming up here. I know if I die with this bit of scrap in my hand though it will get to where it needs to be. But. I can't. I just can't sleep anywhere else.
I hope the boys understand-
Ha! World is exploding and I'm fussing the most about two men that can handle themselves just fine and have proved it time and again. My world is still small. As if I needed the reassurance; I'm pretty selfish that way sometimes.
The stars are out and it's cool up here. Summer means it isn't likely to rain. Last time I felt like this, sleeping under the sky set me straight after a few days.
The press of bodies and the smell of fear sticks everywhere. A hundred baths don't feel like enough. There's no comfort to give either, nothing to make it go away. There's never enough air. Hope is huddled around like a candle in a blizzard, too scared to feed it, too afraid to let it die.
A few days. I'll be fine then.
I hope the boys understand-
Ha! World is exploding and I'm fussing the most about two men that can handle themselves just fine and have proved it time and again. My world is still small. As if I needed the reassurance; I'm pretty selfish that way sometimes.
The stars are out and it's cool up here. Summer means it isn't likely to rain. Last time I felt like this, sleeping under the sky set me straight after a few days.
The press of bodies and the smell of fear sticks everywhere. A hundred baths don't feel like enough. There's no comfort to give either, nothing to make it go away. There's never enough air. Hope is huddled around like a candle in a blizzard, too scared to feed it, too afraid to let it die.
A few days. I'll be fine then.
Written By Haakon
June 8, 2020, 9:30 p.m.(6/10/1013 AR)
Almost disappointed.
The notion of going to war with a battle fleet from a powerful empire half a world away was an unknown and intriguing prospect. Thirty great ships of sail, and hundreds of support craft, I'd heard.
So many possibilities.
By what art or design could they bring such an armada across the wide sea? If galleys, were there some artifice unknown to us which made the great voyage more reliable, or would they simply throw squadrons at the crossing and expect enough to survive in fit condition?
The answer, it seems, is simply that they trusted to the large ships of sail, which form the greatest part of their strength. While I've the urge to have a walk about a Eurusi ship to inspect it in greater detail, the stories out of Sungreet are that apart from differences of style and nuances of rigging, there was no ship in their company that seemed any great departure from the vessels known to Arvum.
In truth, this is good: the wide crossing has not made us primitives before a new foe, and whatever battles we face on the bloody brine will be fought in a manner familiar to us.
It is a matter of common numbers, now.
The notion of going to war with a battle fleet from a powerful empire half a world away was an unknown and intriguing prospect. Thirty great ships of sail, and hundreds of support craft, I'd heard.
So many possibilities.
By what art or design could they bring such an armada across the wide sea? If galleys, were there some artifice unknown to us which made the great voyage more reliable, or would they simply throw squadrons at the crossing and expect enough to survive in fit condition?
The answer, it seems, is simply that they trusted to the large ships of sail, which form the greatest part of their strength. While I've the urge to have a walk about a Eurusi ship to inspect it in greater detail, the stories out of Sungreet are that apart from differences of style and nuances of rigging, there was no ship in their company that seemed any great departure from the vessels known to Arvum.
In truth, this is good: the wide crossing has not made us primitives before a new foe, and whatever battles we face on the bloody brine will be fought in a manner familiar to us.
It is a matter of common numbers, now.
Written By Ravna
June 8, 2020, 8:10 p.m.(6/10/1013 AR)
Oh man, Preston. That journal. That declaration of violation! Love it. Big fan. Huge fan.
Oooo...I like you. You got some Culler in you, huh? I like the part where you described the blade.
Do it again!
Oooo...I like you. You got some Culler in you, huh? I like the part where you described the blade.
Do it again!
Written By Lucita
June 8, 2020, 7:58 p.m.(6/10/1013 AR)
War is a nightmare. Enough said.
Written By Gwenna
June 8, 2020, 7:32 p.m.(6/10/1013 AR)
Relationship Note on Lorenzo
Tragedy and triumph, heroes and heartbreak. I have so many thoughts, so much to write, but those words are ones I want to weigh a bit more. I am thankful to be home and unharmed, but so many others are not. My relief to see my chambers is edged with sorrow and anger in a jumble of feelings I've not yet sorted out.
That said, I am so very, very grateful that Lorenzo has also returned home. Hearing of his deeds upon the seas, and the honors bestowed upon him by Sir Preston, Grandmaster of the Templars and Carnifex of the Faith, and by Princess Marian, our Warchief, brought tears to my eyes. He has contributed so much to House Redrain, often quietly and without want of praise, and I have loved him deeply for how much he cares for the Northlands. That he took our banner along with so many others against the darkening shores of Sungreet...
Whenever I think I can not admire this amazing man any more, he proves me quite wrong.
That said, I am so very, very grateful that Lorenzo has also returned home. Hearing of his deeds upon the seas, and the honors bestowed upon him by Sir Preston, Grandmaster of the Templars and Carnifex of the Faith, and by Princess Marian, our Warchief, brought tears to my eyes. He has contributed so much to House Redrain, often quietly and without want of praise, and I have loved him deeply for how much he cares for the Northlands. That he took our banner along with so many others against the darkening shores of Sungreet...
Whenever I think I can not admire this amazing man any more, he proves me quite wrong.
Written By Piccola
June 8, 2020, 6:37 p.m.(6/10/1013 AR)
It was if, all at once, the world came at me, and all I had in my hands was air.
Would or could they have stopped me? I don't know; I don't care. But I can sense them even now. Everything before is a haze, and everything now but a yearning for more of a dream and less of a reality. I cannot stop thinking of them and I don't want to stop thinking of them.
Why am I writing this down but to express my frustration?
Would or could they have stopped me? I don't know; I don't care. But I can sense them even now. Everything before is a haze, and everything now but a yearning for more of a dream and less of a reality. I cannot stop thinking of them and I don't want to stop thinking of them.
Why am I writing this down but to express my frustration?
Please note that the scholars may take some time preparing your journal for others to read.