Written By Erik
Nov. 5, 2019, 9:15 p.m.(2/23/1012 AR)
Relationship Note on Esme
It's a happy coincidence when a hastily gathered covering to better blend amongst those in nightclothes manages to bring warmth and comfort to someone else. I'm thankful it will help restore your natural warmth undiminished until spring thaws away your torpor, Lady Esme. Unfortunately I don't believe there will be any traction for a lineup of sheet-cloaks (Cleets?) once the snows dissipate.
Though on the topic of thanks I do think I should mention Countess Arcadia. She doubly has my gratitude not only for being a gracious hostess but for extending invitation. I'm also not entirely publicizing this because I'm hopeful for a taste of mammoth.
p.s. - Blanket-Cloaks successful. Next point of suggestion: Rounds of nightcaps in nightcaps for the next time.
Though on the topic of thanks I do think I should mention Countess Arcadia. She doubly has my gratitude not only for being a gracious hostess but for extending invitation. I'm also not entirely publicizing this because I'm hopeful for a taste of mammoth.
p.s. - Blanket-Cloaks successful. Next point of suggestion: Rounds of nightcaps in nightcaps for the next time.
Written By Evaristo
Nov. 5, 2019, 7:05 p.m.(2/23/1012 AR)
Relationship Note on Monique
Lady Monique Greemarch, the most alluring lady in the city, is not only beautiful and witty, but also a source of endless entertainment - and knowledge.
Written By Sydney
Nov. 5, 2019, 6:19 p.m.(2/23/1012 AR)
There's a small voice in all of us, I think - or most, surely - that whispers that we're destined for something greater than the sum of our parts.
Lately, I've been thinking on that.
How does one earn skill without time?
How does one earn time without coin?
How does one earn coin without sacrifice?
What do you earn?
What do you leave behind?
It's the reality of being born without everything handed down to me from my sire, and his sire's sire. I make no secret of the fact that I've cast my surname to the wind. You'll not see it written, and you'll not hear it spoken. It exists only in memory, and bitter ones, at that.
Who do we become when we have nothing? Does a tree battered by wind make it grow stronger and taller, or does it simply weaken its roots and make it prone to falling over sooner?
Questions. Nothing but questions without answers.
My fists aren't enough to solve my problems, that much has become crystal clear. I need to harden myself. I need to soften myself. I need to learn. I need to sacrifice. I need time. I need coin. I need skill. I'll thrash, and I'll kick, and I'll make an ass of myself along the way, because it's the path granted to me.
This is not a poem - It's the reality of being born on the wrong end of a coin toss.
This is the lament of the Lowers, to those in the world above.
Lately, I've been thinking on that.
How does one earn skill without time?
How does one earn time without coin?
How does one earn coin without sacrifice?
What do you earn?
What do you leave behind?
It's the reality of being born without everything handed down to me from my sire, and his sire's sire. I make no secret of the fact that I've cast my surname to the wind. You'll not see it written, and you'll not hear it spoken. It exists only in memory, and bitter ones, at that.
Who do we become when we have nothing? Does a tree battered by wind make it grow stronger and taller, or does it simply weaken its roots and make it prone to falling over sooner?
Questions. Nothing but questions without answers.
My fists aren't enough to solve my problems, that much has become crystal clear. I need to harden myself. I need to soften myself. I need to learn. I need to sacrifice. I need time. I need coin. I need skill. I'll thrash, and I'll kick, and I'll make an ass of myself along the way, because it's the path granted to me.
This is not a poem - It's the reality of being born on the wrong end of a coin toss.
This is the lament of the Lowers, to those in the world above.
Written By Sparte
Nov. 5, 2019, 4:50 p.m.(2/23/1012 AR)
I've been back to visit Dame Tom again. The travel to the lodge is more difficult with the snow so thick, I can understand why so many in the Northlands simply look outside during the winter and don't.
Still, the trip was worthwhile. There isn't much to hunt right now and a little extra food for the stoatlets was welcome. She has found herself a fine spot to keep warm in between their little playhunt excursions when the snow is calmer. That is not often of late.
Judging from how they've grown, come Spring they'll be big enough to go venture off on their own and start their own little stories. They show every indication of being just as independent and stubborn as their mother.
I still don't for the life of me know who in Arx has a male stoat. This is her second litter, and the father wasn't /that/ stoat. I asked last time.
Still, the trip was worthwhile. There isn't much to hunt right now and a little extra food for the stoatlets was welcome. She has found herself a fine spot to keep warm in between their little playhunt excursions when the snow is calmer. That is not often of late.
Judging from how they've grown, come Spring they'll be big enough to go venture off on their own and start their own little stories. They show every indication of being just as independent and stubborn as their mother.
I still don't for the life of me know who in Arx has a male stoat. This is her second litter, and the father wasn't /that/ stoat. I asked last time.
Written By Arcadia
Nov. 5, 2019, 4:39 a.m.(2/22/1012 AR)
The pyjama party was a success. There was laughter and drinks and a new fashion statement thanks to Lord Erik and Lady Esme.
Next is the taste of Everwinter. I am hopeful we spear a mammoth this week. I'd really love for everyone to get a taste of it.
Next is the taste of Everwinter. I am hopeful we spear a mammoth this week. I'd really love for everyone to get a taste of it.
Written By Niklas
Nov. 5, 2019, 12:44 a.m.(2/21/1012 AR)
It must be very freeing to assume bad faith on the part of anyone with whom you disagree, so you can dismiss anything they may have to say before they have the opportunity to do so.
Written By Lark
Nov. 4, 2019, 11:34 p.m.(2/21/1012 AR)
I've returned from Bastion and it couldn't have been at a better time. There's much work to be done.
Written By Anisha
Nov. 4, 2019, 11:28 p.m.(2/21/1012 AR)
My first few weeks in Arx have been rather spectacular. There are many sights to see, many people to meet, and get to know. I may have stumbled once or twice, but I am confident I shall find my footing, and I hope that in time I may be able to earn the forgiveness of those whose toes I errantly stepped upon.
I was quite surprised, pleasantly so, when I received an offer of patronage rather quickly, and after consulting some with my peers, I am proud to proclaim myself a protege of Princess Reese Grayson. May my deeds and words always reflect well on her.
I'm sure there are many things more to write about. Some of those will go in the black journals, though.
I was quite surprised, pleasantly so, when I received an offer of patronage rather quickly, and after consulting some with my peers, I am proud to proclaim myself a protege of Princess Reese Grayson. May my deeds and words always reflect well on her.
I'm sure there are many things more to write about. Some of those will go in the black journals, though.
Written By Rosalind
Nov. 4, 2019, 8:51 p.m.(2/21/1012 AR)
Relationship Note on Aslaug
Aslaug has the most adorable and useful 4 legged companion! He will literally make your hair look like it's on air..
Written By Korka
Nov. 4, 2019, 4:37 p.m.(2/21/1012 AR)
To make a heretic:
Describe vaguely sexual situation with prominent noble that will draw attention.
Pepper in the names of gods.
Maybe heroes if you want extra messengers.
Make the
lines
weird.
Have one line that waxes poetical about the nature of society and ends with sausage.
Call it all a dream.
Can also be used for poets, cons, and talkative vagabonds. No returns since nothing was really claimed and it's all just a joke. May come with a night or two in the cells. Broken noses are also common when following this recipe so speak with your local trainer about dodging and weaving.
Describe vaguely sexual situation with prominent noble that will draw attention.
Pepper in the names of gods.
Maybe heroes if you want extra messengers.
Make the
lines
weird.
Have one line that waxes poetical about the nature of society and ends with sausage.
Call it all a dream.
Can also be used for poets, cons, and talkative vagabonds. No returns since nothing was really claimed and it's all just a joke. May come with a night or two in the cells. Broken noses are also common when following this recipe so speak with your local trainer about dodging and weaving.
Written By Lora
Nov. 4, 2019, 3:57 p.m.(2/20/1012 AR)
My father used to say that if you wanted to be certain you would accomplish something, you had to burn your boats.
I didn't understand it then. I thought it was a waste of the time it took to make the journey, and the cost of the vessels, nevermind the potential for catastrophic consequences if something went wrong.
I understand it now, and I promise...
When we are ready, we will burn the ships.
I didn't understand it then. I thought it was a waste of the time it took to make the journey, and the cost of the vessels, nevermind the potential for catastrophic consequences if something went wrong.
I understand it now, and I promise...
When we are ready, we will burn the ships.
Written By Tyrus
Nov. 4, 2019, 2:27 p.m.(2/20/1012 AR)
The final preparations have been seen to, save for one.
My death is a possibility, not an unlikely one. I disappeared before, without word, and was declared dead for the next thirteen years. I doubt the same fate will befall me, should I not return.
At least this time I've more time to prepare for that eventuality.
Whether or not there is any body to bury, I would like to reclaim my grave in Maelstorm, alongside Genevieve's. It was an odd experience, to stand before the marker with my name, the last time I visited. Still, it's a good place, where I would have wished to be buried before. I've to make up for the years my sister spent without the company she might have expected.
The sea took their bodies, yet I would still like the names of Aelia and Damia to be alongside mine. If their names must fade into forgetfulness, let they fade alongside mine own, not before.
Of my black journals, leave them be. They are where they need to be, and no amount of light will make the dark thoughts they bear any brighter.
Finally, of my possessions. I've arranged matters already, for that which I do not bring with me, to be delivered upon my death. That which I bring with me... I suppose it depends on how much remains.
There. May Vellichor and His Scholars hold in keeping my last will, to stand till my return.
My death is a possibility, not an unlikely one. I disappeared before, without word, and was declared dead for the next thirteen years. I doubt the same fate will befall me, should I not return.
At least this time I've more time to prepare for that eventuality.
Whether or not there is any body to bury, I would like to reclaim my grave in Maelstorm, alongside Genevieve's. It was an odd experience, to stand before the marker with my name, the last time I visited. Still, it's a good place, where I would have wished to be buried before. I've to make up for the years my sister spent without the company she might have expected.
The sea took their bodies, yet I would still like the names of Aelia and Damia to be alongside mine. If their names must fade into forgetfulness, let they fade alongside mine own, not before.
Of my black journals, leave them be. They are where they need to be, and no amount of light will make the dark thoughts they bear any brighter.
Finally, of my possessions. I've arranged matters already, for that which I do not bring with me, to be delivered upon my death. That which I bring with me... I suppose it depends on how much remains.
There. May Vellichor and His Scholars hold in keeping my last will, to stand till my return.
Written By Adalyn
Nov. 4, 2019, 2:19 p.m.(2/20/1012 AR)
I am grateful to have had the opportunity to test my combat skills at two recent events: the Rite of Gloria and the Sip'n Spar. There is always more to learn and improve upon. Arx boasts many strong, capable fighters and it is an honor to fight among them.
The recent knife-throwing contest inspires me to hone those skills as well. Papa will not be pleased to find nicks in the walls. Perhaps it's best to let him discover them on his own?
Bless him, he puts up with so much from me.
The recent knife-throwing contest inspires me to hone those skills as well. Papa will not be pleased to find nicks in the walls. Perhaps it's best to let him discover them on his own?
Bless him, he puts up with so much from me.
Written By Esme
Nov. 4, 2019, 2 p.m.(2/20/1012 AR)
Relationship Note on Erik
It is not a lie nor is it an unknown fact that I am struggling this winter. I find it absolutely beautiful. It is a wonder every where I look at the white flakes. The beauty. How it transforms but...
I am freezing.
I haven't left Tor in all my years for a winter yet. I find myself completely unprepared for how my teeth chatter or how quickly my love of fire has grown. I think my lips turned blue too. I'm not sure if that's not some Northern magic trick (in the most proper of meanings), but I'm horridly cold. It makes me move just a bit closer to people too.
He had this wonderful cloak but not a cloak. It was a blanket. Warm. Amazing. I wanted to keep it, but theft is unkind. I strive not to be unkind. So he sent me my own!! I have never been so happy. Okay, that's a lie, I'm always so happy. However, this is so warm and I am wearing it everywhere. No matter what I am wearing.
We have decided to call it a Cloaket for women. Fashionable, yes? The version suited for masculine dimensions is 'Bloak'. I am more than happy with this. Oh and with semi-secret names that came from the pajama party.
Thank you Lord Erik, it is much appreciated this winter.
I am freezing.
I haven't left Tor in all my years for a winter yet. I find myself completely unprepared for how my teeth chatter or how quickly my love of fire has grown. I think my lips turned blue too. I'm not sure if that's not some Northern magic trick (in the most proper of meanings), but I'm horridly cold. It makes me move just a bit closer to people too.
He had this wonderful cloak but not a cloak. It was a blanket. Warm. Amazing. I wanted to keep it, but theft is unkind. I strive not to be unkind. So he sent me my own!! I have never been so happy. Okay, that's a lie, I'm always so happy. However, this is so warm and I am wearing it everywhere. No matter what I am wearing.
We have decided to call it a Cloaket for women. Fashionable, yes? The version suited for masculine dimensions is 'Bloak'. I am more than happy with this. Oh and with semi-secret names that came from the pajama party.
Thank you Lord Erik, it is much appreciated this winter.
Written By Peri
Nov. 4, 2019, 10:27 a.m.(2/20/1012 AR)
What started as a desire to add to our histories as Vellichor would ask has become more complicated that I expected. Thinking that I can do so without political implications was a mistake.
Written By Miranda
Nov. 4, 2019, 8:58 a.m.(2/20/1012 AR)
Relationship Note on Fecundo
Just a shout out to someone who has only ever been supportive of me my whole life. Never an unkind word or thought, always honest with me. His heart has always been there, looking out for me, and his mind has always been there to be my sounding board.
May your sons grow up to be just like you...
... and may the world know how lucky it is to have you three in it!
I love you, big brother.
May your sons grow up to be just like you...
... and may the world know how lucky it is to have you three in it!
I love you, big brother.
Written By Aslaug
Nov. 4, 2019, 8:54 a.m.(2/20/1012 AR)
(sketch of a rat)
. ,
(\;/)
oo \//, _
,/_;~ \, / '
"' ( ( \ !
// \ _.'
'~ '~----''
. ,
(\;/)
oo \//, _
,/_;~ \, / '
"' ( ( \ !
// \ _.'
'~ '~----''
Written By Delilah
Nov. 4, 2019, 8:51 a.m.(2/20/1012 AR)
How do you make today an improvement from yesterday?
What is the best way to carry on, when the weight upon your shoulders seems too great to bear?
Many answers arise from the past. Some may be familiar, and other methods await discovery. Have the tenacity to find them, even when bowed low.
What is the best way to carry on, when the weight upon your shoulders seems too great to bear?
Many answers arise from the past. Some may be familiar, and other methods await discovery. Have the tenacity to find them, even when bowed low.
Written By Victus
Nov. 4, 2019, 7:04 a.m.(2/20/1012 AR)
Relationship Note on Jaenelle
After growing accustomed to the tradition of the Mirror Masquerade, I had thought a year without the late Archduchess Eleyna would be a difficult one. And indeed, it was much different without the White Lily's presence or her husband attempting to wrestle me to the ground. I had worried for the entire week beforehand that it would be cold, stricken with grief or a sense of longing. I am happy to say that none of my concerns were anywhere close to true. A fool I was for even entertaining the idea.
My cousin was an excellent host. The night was filled with bittersweet memories, yet with the promise of something new as well. Even in tradition, one can see the small, intricate details become mutable. She has become such a diligent leader as time marched on. I'm proud to call her family and I'm looking forward all the more to next year.
(I solemnly swear not to bite through an eel and contaminate a prize pool next time.)
My cousin was an excellent host. The night was filled with bittersweet memories, yet with the promise of something new as well. Even in tradition, one can see the small, intricate details become mutable. She has become such a diligent leader as time marched on. I'm proud to call her family and I'm looking forward all the more to next year.
(I solemnly swear not to bite through an eel and contaminate a prize pool next time.)
Written By Elisha
Nov. 4, 2019, 12:56 a.m.(2/19/1012 AR)
Relationship Note on Vayne
His mantel is carved with these words:
Every tale,
every story,
every anecdote,
every riddle,
is another beat of Aion's heart.
You return to Marach's library after a period of imprisonment, to resume your search for forbidden lore. His manor is unchanged, you think, until the hearth cracks open and a different room appears--then vanishes before you've drawn a breath. Perhaps the secret lies in knowing what words to speak, what rituals to perform, in what order and rhythm, to reveal the hidden library? Or perhaps your confusion and surprise is enough; as you wonder, the room is transfigured again, the walls becoming as transparent as a dragonfly's wings.
You realize that Marach's manor always consisted of two manors, one of burlap and one of glass; perhaps both change with time, but their relationship never changes; the second is forever about to free itself from the first.
"Even dreams," you tell Marach, who is seated beside the hearth, "are subject to laws."
He lowers the stem of his pipe. "You believe the Kindly Voices punish kinslayers and violators of sanctuary, yet all humankind is kin and all Creation is sacred."
"Not my prison cell," you tell him. "The guards forbade me everything save the profane."
Your master bows his head. "Have you not spent decades pursuing forbidden lore?"
"Every tale," you hear yourself say, "every story, every anecdote, every riddle …"
"Yes," he says. "And who, after all, owns the beating of the Dreamer's heart?"
Every tale,
every story,
every anecdote,
every riddle,
is another beat of Aion's heart.
You return to Marach's library after a period of imprisonment, to resume your search for forbidden lore. His manor is unchanged, you think, until the hearth cracks open and a different room appears--then vanishes before you've drawn a breath. Perhaps the secret lies in knowing what words to speak, what rituals to perform, in what order and rhythm, to reveal the hidden library? Or perhaps your confusion and surprise is enough; as you wonder, the room is transfigured again, the walls becoming as transparent as a dragonfly's wings.
You realize that Marach's manor always consisted of two manors, one of burlap and one of glass; perhaps both change with time, but their relationship never changes; the second is forever about to free itself from the first.
"Even dreams," you tell Marach, who is seated beside the hearth, "are subject to laws."
He lowers the stem of his pipe. "You believe the Kindly Voices punish kinslayers and violators of sanctuary, yet all humankind is kin and all Creation is sacred."
"Not my prison cell," you tell him. "The guards forbade me everything save the profane."
Your master bows his head. "Have you not spent decades pursuing forbidden lore?"
"Every tale," you hear yourself say, "every story, every anecdote, every riddle …"
"Yes," he says. "And who, after all, owns the beating of the Dreamer's heart?"
Please note that the scholars may take some time preparing your journal for others to read.