Written By Sabrina
Nov. 11, 2019, 1:49 p.m.(3/6/1012 AR)
Relationship Note on Tyche
I am not certain it is a question of whether I am glad to have come here as much as it was necessary to. For more reasons than one, it was. I remain dubious that Arx can ever feel like home, but when a tree is cut from the forest and shaped into a vessel of the seas, it better belongs cutting through tides than lying at rest in its woodland origin.
So here I am, noting that while the heat of the Lyceum may not reside in this city's winter chill, it is alive like a fire in the company of my family. For this, I consider myself glad.
So here I am, noting that while the heat of the Lyceum may not reside in this city's winter chill, it is alive like a fire in the company of my family. For this, I consider myself glad.
Written By Strozza
Nov. 11, 2019, 1:29 p.m.(3/6/1012 AR)
Relationship Note on Braith
She does not move so much as float through the manner, a force like the wind that captures and sweeps along.
Do you walk among massed reflections of yourself, or are you a reflection of us?
Do you walk among massed reflections of yourself, or are you a reflection of us?
Written By Strozza
Nov. 11, 2019, 10:53 a.m.(3/6/1012 AR)
As much as I dislike all this snow I appreciate that it is as a cloth across a slate, sweeping away old marks.
Perhaps in this Snow is the physical manifestation of ignorance. It blankets and conceals all in much the same way. Ignorance is said to be bliss. But this is bliss born of not knowing the truth, a bliss that is false and easily shattered. Perhaps then Knowledge is the dark reflection of Ignorance - for once we understand there are shadows, things grow darker, but when we are unaware it all seems bright, and fresh.
Perhaps in this Snow is the physical manifestation of ignorance. It blankets and conceals all in much the same way. Ignorance is said to be bliss. But this is bliss born of not knowing the truth, a bliss that is false and easily shattered. Perhaps then Knowledge is the dark reflection of Ignorance - for once we understand there are shadows, things grow darker, but when we are unaware it all seems bright, and fresh.
Written By Elisha
Nov. 11, 2019, 10:33 a.m.(3/6/1012 AR)
No castle is more secure in its rectitude than that of the blessed knight, chosen by the gods as an infant, who is everywhere praised for his prowess and authority. He knows with certitude that he is beloved of Death herself and so orders constructed, beneath his castle, an identical copy underground, that he might delight Her with his presence.
After breathing their last, the corpses of the knight's squires, and of his farriers and kitchen maids and thralls, exsanguinated and tanned, are carried down the final stairway to continue their former activities. Most of these good and obedient corpses are seated at pews or kneeling at altars, though some are tucked into chairs at laden tables or placed at game tables playing Sanctimony, or arranged in appropriate positions at the washing tub or chamber pot, or howling at the lashes cutting across their leathery backs.
However, the dead make innovations; not many, but often enough that soon the two castles diverge.
The blessed, chosen knight will not accept this willfulness and disruption; he orders his thralls to reconfigure his castle to match the one below, and so the corridors of the living begin to reflect those of the dead. He knows with certitude that his authority depends upon his castle being the original, and thus refuses to understand that it was the dead who built his home in the image of theirs; he is their creation, not their creator.
* * *
In her steaming malachite bath, Queen Alaric rejoices in the news that the Shrines once called Lost have been located with exactitude, and pinned to the map like butterflies in a collector's case.
After breathing their last, the corpses of the knight's squires, and of his farriers and kitchen maids and thralls, exsanguinated and tanned, are carried down the final stairway to continue their former activities. Most of these good and obedient corpses are seated at pews or kneeling at altars, though some are tucked into chairs at laden tables or placed at game tables playing Sanctimony, or arranged in appropriate positions at the washing tub or chamber pot, or howling at the lashes cutting across their leathery backs.
However, the dead make innovations; not many, but often enough that soon the two castles diverge.
The blessed, chosen knight will not accept this willfulness and disruption; he orders his thralls to reconfigure his castle to match the one below, and so the corridors of the living begin to reflect those of the dead. He knows with certitude that his authority depends upon his castle being the original, and thus refuses to understand that it was the dead who built his home in the image of theirs; he is their creation, not their creator.
* * *
In her steaming malachite bath, Queen Alaric rejoices in the news that the Shrines once called Lost have been located with exactitude, and pinned to the map like butterflies in a collector's case.
Written By Sparte
Nov. 11, 2019, 10:28 a.m.(3/6/1012 AR)
Dragonweep always seemed a precious, unobtainable thing to me, as a boy. The sort of gem that stories are made of. As Arvum has prospered, I've seen more and more examples of Dragonweep being used than I ever imagined. This simple seeming stone that, never the less, was a thing of wonder. Too many, and in many cases the stone was sought not because of how special it was, but because of how expensive it was. A statement of wealth, more than a statement of any other purpose.
On the one hand, I regret that Dragonweep will for so many return to simply being a thing dreamed and imagined. On the other, I am glad it will no longer be a discussion piece to be worn once then shoved into a dusty jewelry drawer.
On the one hand, I regret that Dragonweep will for so many return to simply being a thing dreamed and imagined. On the other, I am glad it will no longer be a discussion piece to be worn once then shoved into a dusty jewelry drawer.
Written By Preston
Nov. 11, 2019, 3:07 a.m.(3/5/1012 AR)
I know I have written here before that to raise your hand against the Faith is to raise your hand against the Gods, and a hand raised against the Gods should be cut off. But to break sanctuary? That is not some little act of rebellion. It is a full assault on the most basic parts of our Faith. Crusades have been fought to bring down dynasties based on breaches of sanctuary.
I am glad that Blessed Hamish and the others have handled this and shown the mercy that I am thankful they are able to muster, grateful because I do not relish or love the duty of executioner. The lad in question is one under the thrall of the heretic Elisha - and this shows the danger that exists even in the ravings of an unhinged rambler. In his little profanities he makes the Gods less serious, he tries to turn our most basic beliefs into some warped joke. Some, even in the nobility, said what is the harm? Why worry about such ramblings? They encouraged and gave succor. And so we see the result.
I am glad that Blessed Hamish and the others have handled this and shown the mercy that I am thankful they are able to muster, grateful because I do not relish or love the duty of executioner. The lad in question is one under the thrall of the heretic Elisha - and this shows the danger that exists even in the ravings of an unhinged rambler. In his little profanities he makes the Gods less serious, he tries to turn our most basic beliefs into some warped joke. Some, even in the nobility, said what is the harm? Why worry about such ramblings? They encouraged and gave succor. And so we see the result.
Written By Monique
Nov. 11, 2019, 3 a.m.(3/5/1012 AR)
I went to buy a piece of dragonweep through my usual channels only to find the price prohibitively high! Thus, I am in mourning. I will wear only black until the sparkle returns!
Written By Thomas
Nov. 11, 2019, 2:40 a.m.(3/5/1012 AR)
Relationship Note on Ras
I am still not sure I understand what I witnessed tonight -- the what, or the why. I certainly do not envy the thrashing Shard gave you, or the scorn you now face from the Faith, or the ostracism you will undoubtedly experience as the tale spreads.
But after some thought, I did want to finally offer you a reply to what you said to me: the point of living, my young friend, is to survive long enough to piss on the graves of those who hurt you. Had cooler heads not prevailed, you very well would have robbed yourself of that opportunity, on the end of her blade or mine.
I truly do hope you learn something from this experience, and never try to throw your life away over some insult again.
But after some thought, I did want to finally offer you a reply to what you said to me: the point of living, my young friend, is to survive long enough to piss on the graves of those who hurt you. Had cooler heads not prevailed, you very well would have robbed yourself of that opportunity, on the end of her blade or mine.
I truly do hope you learn something from this experience, and never try to throw your life away over some insult again.
Written By Carita
Nov. 11, 2019, 1:16 a.m.(3/5/1012 AR)
There are moments when walking through the city becomes racing, and when racing becomes snowballs thrown, and when snowballs thrown becomes a piggyback ride because ... were you trying to kill me with your snowballs or have fun?!
Written By Selene
Nov. 11, 2019, 12:20 a.m.(3/5/1012 AR)
She lends her pen
To silver thoughts
Benedictions
A gift of green roads
And pearls by the sea.
She lifts her voice
In gratitude
With every word
She will remember
The Kind Goddess.
Written By Aureth
Nov. 10, 2019, 11:52 p.m.(3/5/1012 AR)
It's never okay to attack anyone on holy ground. This is one of the enshrined pinnacles of civilization, a holy tenet that has been upheld across centuries.
Yes, consecrated shrines are obviously holy ground.
Yes, consecrated shrines are obviously holy ground.
Written By Elisha
Nov. 10, 2019, 11:33 p.m.(3/5/1012 AR)
What makes the city of the Unter’alfar different from those above ground is that it has earth instead of air. The boulevards and alleyways, teahouses and marketplaces are filled every inch with dirt, clay packs all the rooms from floor to ceiling, and each stairway is in the grip of another stairway, an opposite and earthen stairway, pressing down from above. Over the white spires and lofty cathedrals hang layers of rock and shale like cloudy skies; even the stars are embedded in basalt.
We scholars do not yet know if the Unter’alfar widen the worm tunnels and root-crevices of their native city; we do not yet know if the dampness rots their skin; we do not yet know if they move about or are frozen in place like cracks in a diamond, like dying kings in forgotten tapestries, like hard facts in flowing dreams.
From the surface, nothing of the subterranean city is visible. The royals who share blood with the elves tell us, ‘The city of the Unter’alfar is directly beneath your feet,’ and we can only believe them.
At night, we put our ears to the ground and listen for the sound of doors slamming shut.
We scholars do not yet know if the Unter’alfar widen the worm tunnels and root-crevices of their native city; we do not yet know if the dampness rots their skin; we do not yet know if they move about or are frozen in place like cracks in a diamond, like dying kings in forgotten tapestries, like hard facts in flowing dreams.
From the surface, nothing of the subterranean city is visible. The royals who share blood with the elves tell us, ‘The city of the Unter’alfar is directly beneath your feet,’ and we can only believe them.
At night, we put our ears to the ground and listen for the sound of doors slamming shut.
Written By Malesh
Nov. 10, 2019, 11:07 p.m.(3/5/1012 AR)
Construction takes so long, it is a lesson in patience. What can be drawn up in a day on the parchment seems to take ages upon ages to complete.
Perhaps I should increase the size of the workforce?
Perhaps I should increase the size of the workforce?
Written By Torian
Nov. 10, 2019, 10:54 p.m.(3/5/1012 AR)
When these journals get read in the times that haven't come yet, if they get read, I hope they'll reflect me as a man who understands the way life can force us to act in ways we wish we didn't have to. I hope as well, that it'll reflect that I understand being forced doesn't excuse us, and that we must also make amends.
Good reminder this week that, for now, that still seems possible for some.
If I ever figure out what it is that affords one redemption and another not, I hope that I can use that to help some of those left-behinds.
Good reminder this week that, for now, that still seems possible for some.
If I ever figure out what it is that affords one redemption and another not, I hope that I can use that to help some of those left-behinds.
Written By Torian
Nov. 10, 2019, 10:53 p.m.(3/5/1012 AR)
When these journals get read in the times that haven't come yet, if they get read, I hope they'll reflect me as a man who understands the way life can force us to act in ways we wish we didn't have to. I hope as well, that it'll reflect that I understand being forced doesn't excuse us, and that we must also make amends.
Good reminder this week that, for now, that still seems possible for some.
If I ever figure out what it is that affords one redemption and another not, I hope that I can use that to help some of those left-behinds.
Good reminder this week that, for now, that still seems possible for some.
If I ever figure out what it is that affords one redemption and another not, I hope that I can use that to help some of those left-behinds.
Written By Sydney
Nov. 10, 2019, 9:50 p.m.(3/5/1012 AR)
My last entry was as a touch... incoherent. That will teach me to write while in the House of Solace.
There was a fire the other night in the Lowers. It 'only' claimed a single building. A no-name tenement building that didn't look like much on the outside, and looked like even less on the inside. Rooms barely big enough to comfortably cram a straw mattress, lots of stairs, lots of wood, and it looked like half of the rooms didn't even have windows. I mention the inside because I was visiting an old friend when the place caught flame.
I scarcely escaped with my life - wouldn't, in fact, if it weren't for the company I'd brought with me. I am now nauseatingly intimate with the burnt-pork smell of people burning alive, trapped in that rat's nest of a tenement building, likely suffocated by the same smoke that nearly did me in. One central staircase was the only point of succor, and the thing collapsed in on itself not long after I left it, stranding the way out for anyone else inside. I write this here, because otherwise, it will likely stay in the Lowers, as most things that happen in the Lowers tend to. There must be a way to see to it that buildings meant to serve as lodging are not constructed in such a deadly way as this, all in the name of greed.
Greed is the only explanation for packing in people like shipping freight, for rooms covered in mold, and... I'm rambling. Almost dying, then spending a night hacking my lungs out while listening to the screams of people with burns all over their bodies tends to have that effect on me.
It's difficult not to feel as though these problems are invisible to those in the wards above. Wonder, do you, why resentment breeds in the Lowers, and you need look no further than the lack of intervention that leads to situations like these.
There was a fire the other night in the Lowers. It 'only' claimed a single building. A no-name tenement building that didn't look like much on the outside, and looked like even less on the inside. Rooms barely big enough to comfortably cram a straw mattress, lots of stairs, lots of wood, and it looked like half of the rooms didn't even have windows. I mention the inside because I was visiting an old friend when the place caught flame.
I scarcely escaped with my life - wouldn't, in fact, if it weren't for the company I'd brought with me. I am now nauseatingly intimate with the burnt-pork smell of people burning alive, trapped in that rat's nest of a tenement building, likely suffocated by the same smoke that nearly did me in. One central staircase was the only point of succor, and the thing collapsed in on itself not long after I left it, stranding the way out for anyone else inside. I write this here, because otherwise, it will likely stay in the Lowers, as most things that happen in the Lowers tend to. There must be a way to see to it that buildings meant to serve as lodging are not constructed in such a deadly way as this, all in the name of greed.
Greed is the only explanation for packing in people like shipping freight, for rooms covered in mold, and... I'm rambling. Almost dying, then spending a night hacking my lungs out while listening to the screams of people with burns all over their bodies tends to have that effect on me.
It's difficult not to feel as though these problems are invisible to those in the wards above. Wonder, do you, why resentment breeds in the Lowers, and you need look no further than the lack of intervention that leads to situations like these.
Written By Lisebet
Nov. 10, 2019, 9:36 p.m.(3/5/1012 AR)
Today I got enough sleep, and I am pleased. I am turning my attention now to determining the best outfits for me and Harlan for the Fire and Ice ball. Suggestions are welcome.
Written By Ryhalt
Nov. 10, 2019, 8:56 p.m.(3/5/1012 AR)
Relationship Note on Mabelle
You are most welcome, Lady Mabelle.
Next trip won't be so flat. Or maybe hawking? You do have a way with animals.
Next trip won't be so flat. Or maybe hawking? You do have a way with animals.
Written By Tikva
Nov. 10, 2019, 8:39 p.m.(3/5/1012 AR)
Bastion in winter looks like something out of a tall tale, the kind of castle that looks like the castle you see in your head when someone says castle. It was good to spend some time with the family, in the close and quiet, before a roaring hearth.
Yet Arx has become our real home, and returning to our chambers here has filled me with new energy.
Yet Arx has become our real home, and returning to our chambers here has filled me with new energy.
Written By Tyche
Nov. 10, 2019, 7:59 p.m.(3/5/1012 AR)
Relationship Note on Sabrina
At times I wonder if my cousin is glad that she ventured from Caina to Arx, but no matter her own feelings, /I/ am glad she has come.
Please note that the scholars may take some time preparing your journal for others to read.