Skip to main content.

Written By Eirene

Jan. 23, 2024, 10:19 a.m.(8/10/1021 AR)

Relationship Note on Mabelle

I once yelled at Mabelle and my kids over cookies. She offered and they, being kids, accepted. I went off briefly on Lycene food hygiene and never accepting food or drink which wasn't tasted first.

I've since calmed down. And I trusted Mabelle enough where she could gladly give my children cookies.

I saw her love for Artshall, and the arts in general, and sweet things. But even honey is made by a bee, which will sting to defend its home and hive.

Also like a bee, that sting will cost her life. I don't think she regretted or hesitated that sacrifice at all.

Written By Mattheu

Jan. 23, 2024, 9:57 a.m.(8/10/1021 AR)

years ago I was given a gift. A memory. It almost destroyed me...

In the moment, I was the most logical of us to receive it. so I partook, and awoke in a daze having fallen from the perch I took. It's one thing to have your own grief. Quite another to be flooded with the memory of someone else's which mirror a level of your own.

It was in that particular day in my daze where the winds lead me to the Lasting Hope Observatory. And it was there that I met a most extraordinary woman.
One who I was to suddenly be found within a romance which I never knew before. One where we were to be wed, only on the day of standing before the spirits, shaman, and our houses. She chose to follow her own heart and winds, and ran away.

In the moment, I was heart broken. And was convinced I would not find another who filled my being in the same manner.

I was mistaken. As I am constantly reminded of now. I can be daft. I can be mistaken. Though I will never misplace my love shared.

In a run through the city nearly a year later. An exercise which Violeta insists to keep doing every winter. A simple game of a snowball fight.
I took what I thought to be refuge within the outside gardens of the Golden Hart. And there in a chance moment, I found Ann who was having tea with her cousin.

It would many winding moments, chance encounters, an awkward dance, and many rooftops later where I would go to my siblings and tell them I sought to bring Ann to the River.

Eshra won a silver that day.

Our love has this almost magical quality to it. Which we never questioned, will never question.
Only to have it explained to us upon the river's edge within Riva. When Shadows and Light combined to save each other, and those trapped to a demon.

The memory shared to me what feels a long time ago now felt heavy to the forefront of my mind when the demons raged towards us in Sanctum.

I was struck back.

I put my hands to the ground and the rest...

there are many who don't get to hold their loved ones tonight. I am one of the lucky ones.

Tell those who are close to you. Shout it from the rooftops. Climb a mast, a tree if you must.
Don't wait.

Written By Ann

Jan. 23, 2024, 2:06 a.m.(8/9/1021 AR)

We are alive.

It looked a little sketchy for a little bit. I mourn for those that we did lose. But I am not going to lie. I am thankful to the spirits that the Rivenshari are alive. Onwards to Arx. The Eater may think we will give up easy. But I think we have proven we are not going to just lay here and be taken.

Stay strong fellow fighters. Know what you fight for.

Freedom.

Freedom.

Freedom.

Written By Denica

Jan. 23, 2024, 1:10 a.m.(8/9/1021 AR)

Relationship Note on Jasher

The Assorted Adventures of Denica and Jasher Thrax.

Jasher being, the very honourable person he is, once vowed to protect me. This meant, I had to pull him into all my schemes. That is the appropriate thing to do to one's reserved and stalwart cousin.

Our first escapade was at a gala in Maelstrom. We were suppose to do a stomp-stomp, serious dance. I invited the Compact and the Traditionalists. But, it was also a chance to influence culture. So, in the middle of the proper stomping, I break away. A twist! I went to the other end of the room and ran towards him. Jasher grabbed and hoisted me up above his head. I stretched out my arms like I was flying. In that moment, I felt free. It felt like we were dancing on His grave and that felt great.

Once at a proper family dinner, I decided to cause a little trouble. Jasher, was fully engaged in a riveting conversation about plate armour. So I stole a couple crab legs from his plate. I used a crab leg to wiggle at Astrid. She was totally onto me and I wanted to make her laugh. Astrid, saw an opportunity to try to throw something at me. Luckily, Victus has a keen eye and caught her just in time. But, sufficient to say, other people reacted. Which was entirely my fault, but Jasher went down with me, willingly.

Another time, I was frustrated a certain cousin got judgy that I was fighting with weapons and helping others. That attitude bothered me. So, I came up with a plan. I managed to convince Jasher to stage an argument with me at fealty event I hosted. It was very dramatic. Because really, we were going to fight in front of everyone. In front of, said cousin. Denica versus the Sword. Because change isn't easy, so that's why we have to do it. We start by bringing everything into the open.

I glad you are out there somewhere, doing great things. Even if I miss you. I think about you when I cause trouble. I picture that look on your face. The 'concern and care' one. There's this little vein in your forehead. The twitch. And the sigh when you know I'll do it no matter what, so you just came along, in case I needed help. We all do, every now and then.

Growing up wasn't easy. So because of that, we tried to love so much. We knew how important it is to love hard. It might hurt, but it makes us better. It separates us from an unavoidably cruel world.

Written By Denica

Jan. 22, 2024, 9:53 p.m.(8/9/1021 AR)

Relationship Note on Mabelle

Mabelle was there for my first scouting mission. It was in Bastion, after the attack. I was nervous, scared even. I'd never done anything like it, but I was determined to help. So, Mabelle gave me a cookie, she held my arm and we kept close. We protected each other and I felt stronger because of her.

You were a kindred troublemaker. A generous woman and a creative spirit. A friend for so very many years.

I will make sure your art collection returns home to Artshall, in a manner befitting of you.

Written By Mattheu

Jan. 22, 2024, 9:30 p.m.(8/9/1021 AR)

It is something of an awesome sight to see my family standing side by side. To be able to hold our children while bells native to us sing upon lands unfamiliar. The largest bells saved from Riva before taking to the rivers. To now be rung from deck of ships alongside of Sanctum.

Losses and sacrifices were made. Many are being put to the rivers now as I write this.

Though the might of the Rivenshari, alongside that of the Valardin forces was seen in full force today. And many will have a chance to live a longer day for what was done.

Written By Aconite

Jan. 22, 2024, 9:21 p.m.(8/9/1021 AR)

Lady Mabelle Laurent.

Written By Amari

Jan. 22, 2024, 7:56 p.m.(8/9/1021 AR)

Relationship Note on Norwood

Since I'm writing sad journals today, and because when this happened I couldn't write anything about it without bursting into tears; this is how my dear Uncle Norwood, the first Baron Clement of Duskshire, died in the defence of House Redire, and of the Oathlands. Let his sacrifice be remembered.

Baron Norwood had set out to stop a great foe, one who had been terrorizing the West for years. Together we spent many fruitless days hunting down the elusive Knight of the Breach and his Warhammer of Woe. It seemed no matter what, we were forever a step behind, a day too late, or had zigged when we ought to have zagged. You can imagine our frustration. He seemed to almost kill and destroy solely to taunt us as we pursued him in vain. Entire villages were massacred and left piles of rubble in his wake.

That changed when he discovered that House Redire was more than simply an old forgotten name being taken up by a foolish lady with delusions. It was not an empty thing with nothing behind it but the memories of those sylv'alfar he'd slaughtered during the War. No, they lived again. They woke in Reveillon and he turned toward it at once. There was no attempt made to conceal his path. His bloody intent was clear.

When we learned his destination, together we rushed to intercept him there. House Clement summoned their army from Duskshire, I rallied my own brave few just as a foul legion of every evil creature imaginable came pouring out of the woods. It was a vast army of robed cultists carrying inverted Gloria banners, centipede legged monstrosities, Knights of the Swarm, dark mages and their demonic servants.

Together we fought an impossible losing battle against all odds.

When all seemed lost despite all our courage and resolve, Norwood saved us. He put himself bodily between the Knight of the Breach and the walls of the bastion. Our foe revealed his true self then; it was Grimthog Two-Head. It was the same Duke of Grayhill that brought ruin and death to House Redire five hundred years before. Undeterred, Norwood fought on. Even after Queensguard was shattered, he fought on. Even after he was pinned to the ground by Grimthog's hammer and mortally wounded, he fought on.

With the last of his strength, Norwood broke Sunderfall, the Hammer of Woe. Every last abomination was destroyed with it, including the worst of them; Grimthog. The Tyrant's slaves all collapsed and fell to dust in an instant. Norwood had saved us all.

Norwood was too humble to ever have bragged of this, if he'd lived. He wouldn't have wanted to be lauded for simply doing his duty. I chose to record it now so that future generations may know some of the story. And so knowing, should they ever visit Reveillon, and wonder over the rough slab of Artshall granite stood on its end in the field before the castle walls, they would pause there, where he so valiantly fell, and think of Norwood.

He was a true friend.

Written By Amari

Jan. 22, 2024, 6:16 p.m.(8/9/1021 AR)

Relationship Note on Mabelle

It feels like I was just congratulating you and excited for your upcoming marriage. I could only imagine all the elaborate cakes, and the opulent fashions the ceremony would have involved. It's hard to believe you're gone, and it's not happy words of encouragement I write now, but a friend's eulogy.

Was defending Artshall with your life the noble thing to do? Of course it was. Mabelle, you did what was right, and honorable. Many will now live thanks to your sacrifice. It's a comfort that it wasn't for nothing, and that you chose your time and chose well. Should we all survive this, I hope your name is never forgotten.

I wish you could have seen that horrid black tide of demons break and fall away from Artshall's walls. It was a victory you deserved to savour with us.

On behalf of everyone, thank you.

Written By Volya

Jan. 22, 2024, 4:19 p.m.(8/9/1021 AR)

*Written Before Leaving Arx*

This is going to be last public journal as I plan on boarding the Desert Queen shortly after putting this down to wording.

I have hated this life. I did my best to put on a smile and joke, be a storyteller, but the truth is, I've always been angry. Angry for how I perceived the world. Angry at how the world has decided to not just treat us, but also in how we treated each other. I resented it, hated it. I always thought that we all should have been more than what we are. And how so few us, the privileged few, seemingly rewarded for doing so little.

Like so many resentful youth, I suspect it started with own family and the stains that have followed. As I was once the heir to House Shaivahn, a little barony that I doubt most reading this will even know or barely recall, was a House that followed it's High House of Thrax. When anti-thralldom sentiment rose to a chorus, my parents, in their infinite wisdom, decided to abandon their home, empty our house vaults and run away with their coin and their thralls. All while their children fought and died during the Gyre War.

Eventually, they were caught, and put to the sword as they rightfully should have been. But so much more was taken. Lands seized. Vaults emptied. And the children that did survive, myself and my sister, were stripped of rank. For doing nothing more than existing. Everything was taken from us, by a system that didn't care to listen. All for the sins of people that I would nothing to associate with. To not only betray their people, but their very children.

After some time playing mercenary for hire, somehow my sister and I were found and absorbed into House Malespero, due to my mother's tie with what was once House Argento. I should state now that I hold no resentment towards Duchess Lianne for this rescue. I respected her. But I never felt like I belonged. That's should not be placed at her feet. She tried. I simply had no desire to listen. I was too angry. Too resentful. Perhaps one day you'll forgive me for that. For now, just now that I am sorry. And that I'm a coward in this respect, that I could not tell you that personally.

For the people that knew me, know that you deserved better. And up until knowing about the fleet going to Eurus, I was content to let the end come. I had no desire to fight it, rather welcome it. Princess Fatima showed me another path, where throwing my life wasn't the only thing I sought. That perhaps I could find something else. Something worth fighting for. A life worth living, even when everything had been taken.

To Khanne: I wish we had more time. Maybe next time. I hope you'll keep that blindfold and think of me.
To Pasquale: You're a good man. Better than most realize. I'm sorry I never said that.
To Lianne: It wasn't your fault. You tried. I never said it, but thank you.
To Jaenelle: Thanks for telling me I look good in a vest. I still have that one.
To Nebulosa: You know what I'm going to say, and you're crazy as I am for following me, even now.
To Fatima: Thank you for giving me a purpose.

So I leave for Eurus, and I will not be returning. If I die in the sand, then it'll be the end I seek. And if I live, then the Gods will have given me another chance to make more of myself than some angry man who drank too much.

From this point, I will retake my old name. That I will not let it die in disgrace. That there is one Shaivahn left who did not run when the time to stand arrived. Who didn't abandon a cause worthwhile.

Good luck, Arvum. Whatever happens, we'll need it.

Volya Shaivahn.

Written By Iliana

Jan. 22, 2024, 1:36 p.m.(8/8/1021 AR)

Relationship Note on Mabelle

I was not there to pull you back this time. You did what you felt you must, and I am certainly not one to question your decision to make a stand. I just wish the world could have both you and Artshall at the same time.

Written By Martino

Jan. 22, 2024, 6:35 a.m.(8/8/1021 AR)

On leaving Southport, saying a brief farewell to the city, I saw some pieces of our history and learnings from Southport's Archives. So a similar copy of them is to be made in my journals to look back on, reflect on, and perhaps read by others.

Planning and strategy are everything, more so when it comes to war and military endeavours. This was not meant to be my path, I was the Malvici to socialise and connect our House. I have done that, but now my path has changed. It was in this past that the need to observe and provide advice - helped strengthen my skill in planning. Keep planning. Keep developing.

Deception is a core skill, willfully and intentionally misleading an enemy. Keep them unaware of your true intentions during a campaign. When we can strike, we pretend not to. When we are near their camp, we pretend to be far away. When far - then one must appear behind their backs. Keep the enemy confused and wear them down. Appear strong, appear perfect - your foe will avoid you at all costs. Tire them out, weaken their unity and push division among their ranks. Appear where they do not expect. Feed the attrition of their mind and body. You will have the enemy second guess themselves.

Excel at that? Tthe victor will be decided before swords clash.

Written By Medeia

Jan. 22, 2024, 5:39 a.m.(8/8/1021 AR)

Relationship Note on Mabelle

I knew that there would be losses in the days and weeks to come as we face the horrors of the Abyss let loose upon our beloved Arvum, but this death is one I will mourn for years to come. We all should.

Lady Mabelle Laurent came to be a far dearer friend to me than I think I ever let her know. She and I, when we put our heads together, created wondrous things. She was a brilliant woman - as smart as she was fashionable. Her genius will last beyond these horrors, beyond these lifetimes, and I am sure it will inspire generations beyond. From the creation of exquisite fabrics like starlight silk (I owe some success with windspun wool and peachskin to expertise and support) to her charitable works with the Honey Havens to her artistic preservation endeavors in galleries through Arvum to her extreme dedication to Artshall, she worked tirelessly on projects that few could forget.

More personally, she trusted me with something that I still don't - and may never - know the full consequences of. She trusted me on a whim, and for every single person who benefited from the protection of certain malissite necklaces at Harrow Hall, she is owed thanks. She is the one who removed the barrier I needed removed to gain the guidance I sought in order to create them. She also helped in creating the solution used to destroy the thorns at Harrow Hall, and if my newest project is a success, she will have had a hand in that, too.

Thank you, Mabelle, for all you did. While I will honor you for the hero you came to be, I will choose instead to remember fixing your hair for you at the Fire Bee or chatting at the Saving Grace gardens, or - this, the last time I saw you - at Lottie's with sweets and talk of lists that maybe neither of us were joking about.

You were one of the best of us, and I'm blessed to have known you in this lifetime.

Written By Sen'azala

Jan. 22, 2024, 1:43 a.m.(8/7/1021 AR)

It's 11:35. 25 minutes to midnight.

Time to go.

Written By Titus

Jan. 22, 2024, 12:57 a.m.(8/7/1021 AR)

It isn't mine, but it is good. What you feed is what will grow.

Written By Lianne

Jan. 21, 2024, 11:06 p.m.(8/7/1021 AR)

Relationship Note on Medeia

I believe Lady Medeia Saik accepted my offer of patronage purely because I have, in the past, encouraged her curiosity and the boldest of her ideas. Every now and then, our madder notions need a little nudge, and it's been a privilege to be able to encourage hers. She hardly needs it now. Meet a few successes and that support isn't so necessary any longer.

She is a spectacular overachiever, vastly more capable than most of us, and she'll have my support whenever she asks it, however unneeded it may be.

Written By Raven

Jan. 21, 2024, 8:02 p.m.(8/7/1021 AR)

Someone come chat theology with me

Written By Medeia

Jan. 21, 2024, 4:30 p.m.(8/7/1021 AR)

Yes.

I promise.

Written By Raven

Jan. 21, 2024, 2:31 p.m.(8/6/1021 AR)

If everyone's an asshole, I might be the problem. Everyone's right. I'm arrogant. I'm stubborn. I'm an opinionated, pushy loudmouth. Yet I am coming to realize of the many occasions where I was in the wrong, my sin isn't always how I am, or even who I am. Sometimes it was the when. Time. That's my sin. The squawking when I ought to be have been quiet or silence when I should have stood up. Does it mean really my sin is lack of wisdom? Probably.

Either way while I will never be too proud to apologize or admit my errors I am done apologizing for who, for who I am. Archfiends. Heralds. The dream and the nightmare. I will walk it and I will face it as myself. The causes I serve, the forces and people I serve I will remain loyal to but first I must be loyal to myself.

When I take my soulbrand I will do it entirely as myself. For good or for ill the only power I will call on or rely on will be my own. If this means I am somehow less than I might have been had I borrowed or called power from elsewhere I will still have no regret because so long as I succeed or fail on my own merits I know that my choices will always be my own and that means nothing will sway me from keeping the promises I've made to myself and others. I will remain whole, unbowed, unbroken. Imperfect but free to strive to become who I mean to be. Everyone and anything else who feels entitled to a say can fuck right off.

Written By Mabelle

Jan. 21, 2024, 1:43 p.m.(8/6/1021 AR)

My name is Mabelle Laurent, daughter of Tina Laurent and Martin Longwood.
Whatever I accomplished in my life, it is written and shall be remembered and will not be repeated here by myself.
Whatever I chose to keep private in my life, shall remain so after I've finished living them.

The things that are not written are so: my soul did not always belong to me. It used to belong to Lady Cressida Umbrage, otherwise known by her chosen name, Jet. Before the reckoning, she attempted to stop it, rallied an army, marched against her king for the sake of humanity. She was betrayed and has failed. I tried for many years to follow her footsteps, to finish her job. Perhaps in another turn of the wheel.

I am not her.

Whatever I thought I have done in her name, with her magic, I have done with my own magic, including hiding the moon with shadows during the battle against Orichalcum, making his army falter.

My name is Mabelle Laurent.

The love I bore and bear still for my family, friends and lovers is a private love. Whether steady or brief, it is none of your concern.
The only love that never faltered was the one I bear for my name, my House and our City.
Though it was never mine to rule, only to serve, Artshall has forever been my most treasured love. My priority. My greatest achievement.
It should come as no surprise at all that I refuse to see it burn again.

Should I not return, my will is simple:

My black journals will remain sealed.

All my earthly possessions and assets are to be taken back to Artshall to be sold and used for the reconstruction of the city, if need be, and support of the people. This will be facilitated by Baroness Amari Redire. Those who have a claim on anything, should write to her.

Exempt:

To my betrothed, Marquis Orvyn Harthall, I leave my apology and the dowry stated in the agreement between us.

All the art I've curated is to be passed to the Art District, under the guiding hand of Princess Denica Thrax.

The family heirlooms, the gown of the Duchess of the Honeybees and the Apiarian Queen Crown, are to pass to Lady Annalise Laurent when she comes of age.

The Dire Bee Lounge, The Fire Bee Cider House, The Honey Glow Salon and The Buzz Art Gallery are to remain in possession of House Laurent.

Upon release from my duties, Adelina, my aide, will be appointed Mayor of the Art District until the time she finds herself a suitable replacement, if she wished to. All profits from distribution of fabrics will serve as income to the district.

Maurice, my baker, will be released from his duties should he like and receive his own bakery in Artshall, compensation for tolerating my sweet tooth demands for many years.

My personal pets are to be given to the Honey Havens to keep company of the children until they come to a peaceful end.

To my Duke, I leave my family ring and my gratitude for saving me from an awful situation and trusting me with his city and by so, directing the path to my happy life.

To my friends and loved ones, failure to mention you in writing, does not mean you are not carved upon my heart.
To you and to all else, I will life, happiness and purpose.
Lady Mabelle of House Laurent

Please note that the scholars may take some time preparing your journal for others to read.

Leave blank if this journal is not a relationship

Mark if this is a private, black journal entry