Written By Samantha
Aug. 12, 2019, 12:49 p.m.(8/20/1011 AR)
Relationship Note on Rymarr
If I am being honest, while I worked earnestly to seek an end to the conflict with Grayreeve, it is my husband Rymarr who truly carried the weight. It is seldom that I make the decision to commit to aggressive action - usually it is the other way around. Rymarr would be the one to propose a military solution, and I am the one who would call for a stay of hand. With Grayreeve, I must admit that it was quite the opposite.
I'm grateful for this. Because being willing to take on the opposite approach from each other means we both have grown as people. Because the choice of negotiation rather than warfare won the day, regardless of the source.
Have I mentioned how proud I am of Rymarr Deepwood? How different my life would be without him.
I'm grateful for this. Because being willing to take on the opposite approach from each other means we both have grown as people. Because the choice of negotiation rather than warfare won the day, regardless of the source.
Have I mentioned how proud I am of Rymarr Deepwood? How different my life would be without him.
Written By Lilia
Aug. 12, 2019, 11:40 a.m.(8/20/1011 AR)
Relationship Note on Arn
You were uncomfortable with peace.
You clanked around the Tower in your armor, warhammer never further away than your little dog, growling at people about everything from the weather to their fixation on white fights, but you were the one spoiling for a fight. You thought people were humoring you, unwilling to just let them respect you. You thought your time had come and gone, that you were useless, an old relic set aside to make room for younger men.
Nothing made you happy. Every best effort was just barely good enough. Reports were too long, details not specific enough, summers were too hot, rain was too wet. Everyone disappointed you. Especially us. Tobias, Ansel, Simone, Evelyn, Dulcinea, me; we tried so many different things to win your approval, to finally feel like we were good enough, measuring up to whatever invisible standard you'd hoped we would achieve. Invisible, not impossible, but otherwise the same. I know you didn't hate us, but even now I don't know if you ever really loved any of us, or if that part of you left with Mother.
When the Grim Duke died, I thought you were furious at him for dying first; when Count Steelhart and his family were killed, I thought you were righteously angry because they had all been slaughtered. Now I think the only thing you were mad about was being the last one left, about the possibility of dying at home, in your bed, surrounded by grandchildren.
I wanted to believe you would live forever, that you were too hard to die, with steel for bones and rubicund for flesh.
Instead, you went to High Hill with no fear of death, with no prayer on your lips for more time to live. You went out to seek justice for Steelhart, grieving them in your way, with violence. And you died there, in another catastrophic loss of life that might've been worse had anyone else been leading that column.
Now you are gone, and everything is different although nothing has changed.
I hope we do not disappoint you anymore.
You clanked around the Tower in your armor, warhammer never further away than your little dog, growling at people about everything from the weather to their fixation on white fights, but you were the one spoiling for a fight. You thought people were humoring you, unwilling to just let them respect you. You thought your time had come and gone, that you were useless, an old relic set aside to make room for younger men.
Nothing made you happy. Every best effort was just barely good enough. Reports were too long, details not specific enough, summers were too hot, rain was too wet. Everyone disappointed you. Especially us. Tobias, Ansel, Simone, Evelyn, Dulcinea, me; we tried so many different things to win your approval, to finally feel like we were good enough, measuring up to whatever invisible standard you'd hoped we would achieve. Invisible, not impossible, but otherwise the same. I know you didn't hate us, but even now I don't know if you ever really loved any of us, or if that part of you left with Mother.
When the Grim Duke died, I thought you were furious at him for dying first; when Count Steelhart and his family were killed, I thought you were righteously angry because they had all been slaughtered. Now I think the only thing you were mad about was being the last one left, about the possibility of dying at home, in your bed, surrounded by grandchildren.
I wanted to believe you would live forever, that you were too hard to die, with steel for bones and rubicund for flesh.
Instead, you went to High Hill with no fear of death, with no prayer on your lips for more time to live. You went out to seek justice for Steelhart, grieving them in your way, with violence. And you died there, in another catastrophic loss of life that might've been worse had anyone else been leading that column.
Now you are gone, and everything is different although nothing has changed.
I hope we do not disappoint you anymore.
Written By Tyrus
Aug. 12, 2019, 11:36 a.m.(8/20/1011 AR)
My return to the Mourning Isles has been good. Seeing the old and young of my life before the thirteen years of enslavement that kept me away from my family and the events that took place, here and elsewhere in the Compact.
I visited Genevieve's and Dominic's graves. The Queen of a year and the Beastmaster. Sister and brother. I've visited the others that returned to the Wheel, more than I expected.
It is a strange thing. To realize how much has changed. Time means little, when all you know is an island, and hope is little more than to see the day where the chains might be cast off, and to breathe as a free man once more.
There's a lesson slaves learn quickly. Hope is as much an enemy than friend. We endure till we die, hoping to be free. We do anything and everything, to keep that hope alive. To keep the memory of humanity alive. Even when we know that so long as there are chains, it can, and will, be taken away.
And that is when hope kills, far more than the masters' whip.
I visited Genevieve's and Dominic's graves. The Queen of a year and the Beastmaster. Sister and brother. I've visited the others that returned to the Wheel, more than I expected.
It is a strange thing. To realize how much has changed. Time means little, when all you know is an island, and hope is little more than to see the day where the chains might be cast off, and to breathe as a free man once more.
There's a lesson slaves learn quickly. Hope is as much an enemy than friend. We endure till we die, hoping to be free. We do anything and everything, to keep that hope alive. To keep the memory of humanity alive. Even when we know that so long as there are chains, it can, and will, be taken away.
And that is when hope kills, far more than the masters' whip.
Written By Cristoph
Aug. 12, 2019, 9:53 a.m.(8/20/1011 AR)
Relationship Note on Arn
I won't waste valuable paper speaking on the virtues and vices of Duke Arn Telmar and how his loss affects the Oathlands. He would have thought it a waste of time.
Instead I'll write on the first time I truly saw him. Which I'm sure he'd also think was a waste of time but not everything is about *you*, Telmar.
When my older sister left to follow her destiny with the Faith of the Pantheon and my younger sister was acting out belligerently (and managed to obtain a surrogate second father out of that behavior, for which I remain mildly jealous), I was being hauled from meeting to meeting and forced to stand around at court. The clothes were miserable, itchy and hot.
It was in some council get together of the High Lord and his ducal powers that I had the opportunity to see Duke Telmar up close. He seemed gnarled and grizzled even then. I witnessed him slam his fist upon the table while making a point, his manner so alien from that of my father.
The late Duke Edmund was poised and collected always, like a statue sometimes. He had almost no reaction to these antics and it's a behavior I've attempted to emulate myself. With Duke Telmar as well as other fiery individuals.
All that's to say that as a young man I found him to be incredibly frightening. And he remained this untouchable ferocious staple of the Oathlands to me up until his death. I'm not sure we'll see another like him.
Instead I'll write on the first time I truly saw him. Which I'm sure he'd also think was a waste of time but not everything is about *you*, Telmar.
When my older sister left to follow her destiny with the Faith of the Pantheon and my younger sister was acting out belligerently (and managed to obtain a surrogate second father out of that behavior, for which I remain mildly jealous), I was being hauled from meeting to meeting and forced to stand around at court. The clothes were miserable, itchy and hot.
It was in some council get together of the High Lord and his ducal powers that I had the opportunity to see Duke Telmar up close. He seemed gnarled and grizzled even then. I witnessed him slam his fist upon the table while making a point, his manner so alien from that of my father.
The late Duke Edmund was poised and collected always, like a statue sometimes. He had almost no reaction to these antics and it's a behavior I've attempted to emulate myself. With Duke Telmar as well as other fiery individuals.
All that's to say that as a young man I found him to be incredibly frightening. And he remained this untouchable ferocious staple of the Oathlands to me up until his death. I'm not sure we'll see another like him.
Written By Preston
Aug. 12, 2019, 9:03 a.m.(8/20/1011 AR)
Relationship Note on Elloise
I can promise you, the silence of the rest of us has to do with the fact that these fires of debate rage every few weeks, and with far more smoke than light. Whether you are seeking to get the Abandoned to bend the knee or you are attacking them, pretending they are all the same only sets you up for defeat. Seeking understanding of them while treating them all the same sets you up for ignorance. As though trying to learn about the Gods by asking every Godsworn to sing their favourite canticle. There is truth in all of it, but in the composite? Just confusing noise.
Written By Preston
Aug. 12, 2019, 8:59 a.m.(8/20/1011 AR)
Relationship Note on Cristoph
Some few weeks past Duke Cristoph made a donation to the Templars. He did so without fanfare or announcement. It was a sizeable donation, and material he could have used to build up his forces or other such. It was a kind donation, and one I did not speak of at the time as he had done so quietly.
But, on reflection, his honouring of Gloria and Gild should be celebrated. More so because of what those resources will be put into. A project which will honour the Gods, and our shared history as a people. I hope once it is revealed people will draw strength from what we endured as a people before, what we may have to endure again.
But, on reflection, his honouring of Gloria and Gild should be celebrated. More so because of what those resources will be put into. A project which will honour the Gods, and our shared history as a people. I hope once it is revealed people will draw strength from what we endured as a people before, what we may have to endure again.
Written By Gwenna
Aug. 12, 2019, 8:55 a.m.(8/20/1011 AR)
I found myself at no few events for the Festival of Death with great enjoyment, so when a Harlequin's Picnic was announced, how could I not go? The evening seemed to perfectly compliment the event, with clouds dancing about to hide and reveal star and moonlight. The wine and cookies were beyond and I truly must thank Legate Aureth Grayhope for having arranged such an enjoyable affair.
We played a game in which every reply must be done in the form of a question. It was a touch challenging, but quite intriguing! I would not have thought a game could lead to such insightful and poignant inquiries.
The company was extraordinary and I had the great fortune to join family and friends - both old and hopefully new on the latter - for a wonderful evening.
We played a game in which every reply must be done in the form of a question. It was a touch challenging, but quite intriguing! I would not have thought a game could lead to such insightful and poignant inquiries.
The company was extraordinary and I had the great fortune to join family and friends - both old and hopefully new on the latter - for a wonderful evening.
Written By Ida
Aug. 12, 2019, 8:16 a.m.(8/19/1011 AR)
Relationship Note on Arn
I met the Duke in my earliest days in Arx, shortly after His Grace, Prince Edain, invited me to come and serve as a smith for House Valardin. The Duke visited the shop and, in very few words, ordered a warhammer. He seemed pleased enough with the piece, which I suspect since he later had me replace it with one of rubicund. Surely that one got replaced along the way, but it was still a great honor to me that he trusted my work.
I lived in the Valardin estates for a time and I came upon His Grace and Duke Arn looking over a large map. His Grace invited me over and was very enthusiastic - as he often tends to be - about something or other. It was military in nature and the Gods know that's not my strong suit. I watched Duke Arn listen and consider what His Grace was saying and there was a moment there that made him so incredibly human, in a way I think he didn't realize at the time. The protector, the leader, the guider of Radley's kin. The second he looked at me looking, I quickly turned my eyes elsewhere. I can't say the man didn't intimidate me a little bit. Maybe a lot. Still, it's a memory I'll hold as dear as him calling me a probable drunk when he ordered that warhammer.
There's more I could try to write - the man was a legend of integrity and conviction - but inspiring words about people aren't a strong suit of mine. I've already read no few recollections about the Duke's honorable qualities from others that have been put so much better than I think I could even come close to, so my memory will serve, I hope.
I lived in the Valardin estates for a time and I came upon His Grace and Duke Arn looking over a large map. His Grace invited me over and was very enthusiastic - as he often tends to be - about something or other. It was military in nature and the Gods know that's not my strong suit. I watched Duke Arn listen and consider what His Grace was saying and there was a moment there that made him so incredibly human, in a way I think he didn't realize at the time. The protector, the leader, the guider of Radley's kin. The second he looked at me looking, I quickly turned my eyes elsewhere. I can't say the man didn't intimidate me a little bit. Maybe a lot. Still, it's a memory I'll hold as dear as him calling me a probable drunk when he ordered that warhammer.
There's more I could try to write - the man was a legend of integrity and conviction - but inspiring words about people aren't a strong suit of mine. I've already read no few recollections about the Duke's honorable qualities from others that have been put so much better than I think I could even come close to, so my memory will serve, I hope.
Written By Iseulet
Aug. 12, 2019, 5:22 a.m.(8/19/1011 AR)
The subject of the shav'arvani all being savages with no manners versus the Arvani, the Compact, with more manners than we know what to do with has reminded me of a something someone once told me before I went to go help Count Giulio with forming his County:
"Civilized men are more discourteous than savages because they know they can be impolite without having their skulls split, as a general thing."
I also can't help but to think there is perhaps no one better suited to these kinds of studies than Baroness Stormbreak. Her curiosity and quest for knowledge seems to be genuine. I think it would take her far and prove to be her greatest strength - if only more of the Compact had her open mind and willingness to learn. May she find the answers she seeks in Vellichor's honor and prove to be a beacon of knowledge and inspiration to us all.
"Civilized men are more discourteous than savages because they know they can be impolite without having their skulls split, as a general thing."
I also can't help but to think there is perhaps no one better suited to these kinds of studies than Baroness Stormbreak. Her curiosity and quest for knowledge seems to be genuine. I think it would take her far and prove to be her greatest strength - if only more of the Compact had her open mind and willingness to learn. May she find the answers she seeks in Vellichor's honor and prove to be a beacon of knowledge and inspiration to us all.
Written By Mabelle
Aug. 12, 2019, 3:56 a.m.(8/19/1011 AR)
Relationship Note on Calista
I feel your agony, cousin. Success is blissful but measured against sacrifice. Let us sit and speak and perhaps we can mend each other.
Written By Elloise
Aug. 12, 2019, 2:20 a.m.(8/19/1011 AR)
Relationship Note on Reigna
You ARE aware that the, I don't know, eight? people writing responses to my white journal are not the entire Compact, right?
Written By Vincenzo
Aug. 12, 2019, 2:03 a.m.(8/19/1011 AR)
The sun burned hot
with tempestuous desire,
yearning as it moved
from one dawn
to the next twilight.
But trying in vain,
it bent low
to the horizon, where dreams
meet reality and there,
as pilgrim lips did
fleetingly touch in farewell,
the moon blushed and
hid her silvery mystery
behind the dark gown of
evening clouds as her
diamonds of stars glittered
with hope.
You'd think the world was one big plate of dreariness and despair. But if people were a little braver, they might just find a few words of inspiration from their dreams Jayus gives, and commit their courage to ink and paper so that generations in the future they can read, smile and ponder how we were able to survive.
Be brave and share an original verse to the world.
with tempestuous desire,
yearning as it moved
from one dawn
to the next twilight.
But trying in vain,
it bent low
to the horizon, where dreams
meet reality and there,
as pilgrim lips did
fleetingly touch in farewell,
the moon blushed and
hid her silvery mystery
behind the dark gown of
evening clouds as her
diamonds of stars glittered
with hope.
You'd think the world was one big plate of dreariness and despair. But if people were a little braver, they might just find a few words of inspiration from their dreams Jayus gives, and commit their courage to ink and paper so that generations in the future they can read, smile and ponder how we were able to survive.
Be brave and share an original verse to the world.
Written By Willow
Aug. 12, 2019, 1:09 a.m.(8/19/1011 AR)
Relationship Note on Elloise
The unintentional generalized stance of a scientist ruffling feathers. I asked Poppy to keep me apprised of the journals but it seems like they are all revolving around the one if she is to be believed, and Poppy has never lied to me yet, so.
My Lady:
Once there was a pass in the Crimson Peaks which spent decades haunted by the guerilla tactics of a certain band of Shavs. Eventually during a particularly hard winter, their War Chief opted to bend the knee to the late Duke Neddim, in exchange for keeping his position and his family their lands, that they would cease attacking patrols through the area for food for their children.
My Uncle, the late Duke, agreed and even offered to wed in one of his neices (me), and the place become a proper March. Even though the man was old enough to be my father, I grew to love his wildness and his bravery and the kindness of his heart that he would sacrifice everything in order to see the youngest generation of his family safe and fed.
And then a week before we were to be married, his brother killed him in front of me. Arrow through the throat. It was a coup, you see. He believed, as you do, that it was their wildness and not their honor which made them special, gave them purpose. And was willing to kill his own brother to keep him from leading their people down a road he believed would lead to their corruption.
I would tell you their name but all but the children were killed, and their family no more. They are now like so many secrets and tales, lost to the inexorable march of time.
While some Shavs have noble hearts, and yours may be in the right place, your generalizations do no justice to Shavs, Prodigals, or the nobility. Life is complex and sometimes terrible, just like the hearts of men, wild or otherwise.
My Lady:
Once there was a pass in the Crimson Peaks which spent decades haunted by the guerilla tactics of a certain band of Shavs. Eventually during a particularly hard winter, their War Chief opted to bend the knee to the late Duke Neddim, in exchange for keeping his position and his family their lands, that they would cease attacking patrols through the area for food for their children.
My Uncle, the late Duke, agreed and even offered to wed in one of his neices (me), and the place become a proper March. Even though the man was old enough to be my father, I grew to love his wildness and his bravery and the kindness of his heart that he would sacrifice everything in order to see the youngest generation of his family safe and fed.
And then a week before we were to be married, his brother killed him in front of me. Arrow through the throat. It was a coup, you see. He believed, as you do, that it was their wildness and not their honor which made them special, gave them purpose. And was willing to kill his own brother to keep him from leading their people down a road he believed would lead to their corruption.
I would tell you their name but all but the children were killed, and their family no more. They are now like so many secrets and tales, lost to the inexorable march of time.
While some Shavs have noble hearts, and yours may be in the right place, your generalizations do no justice to Shavs, Prodigals, or the nobility. Life is complex and sometimes terrible, just like the hearts of men, wild or otherwise.
Written By Elisha
Aug. 12, 2019, 12:18 a.m.(8/19/1011 AR)
In the sky above the village torched by the pack,
a thousand thousand embers
shine like the stars of Nefer'khat.
The flames reduce our bodies to ash
and sanctifies the ash,
and makes us holy.
What's rotten in us burns first.
You, a shadow, departed, a glowing hearth, a spiked gloaming.
You know that a blade that lodges in a human skull
turns the skull into a lit temple.
With our eyes empty and Goddess-filled,
we become both the wheel
and the body it breaks.
You opened vault of thorns before your time and
outraged the culprit by reciting the names
of your victims aloud
and
when you woke into another dream
you bled green sap from the forests
that smother the mountaintops
above the horizon of trees.
a thousand thousand embers
shine like the stars of Nefer'khat.
The flames reduce our bodies to ash
and sanctifies the ash,
and makes us holy.
What's rotten in us burns first.
You, a shadow, departed, a glowing hearth, a spiked gloaming.
You know that a blade that lodges in a human skull
turns the skull into a lit temple.
With our eyes empty and Goddess-filled,
we become both the wheel
and the body it breaks.
You opened vault of thorns before your time and
outraged the culprit by reciting the names
of your victims aloud
and
when you woke into another dream
you bled green sap from the forests
that smother the mountaintops
above the horizon of trees.
Written By Bree
Aug. 11, 2019, 11:12 p.m.(8/19/1011 AR)
Relationship Note on Saro
This woman is fantastic - and taught me some of the most interesting facts about spiders. She also offered to let me take a spider home, but the thought of losing it while I slept, or worse... crushing it? No. Too much responsibility!
Written By Orrin
Aug. 11, 2019, 10:58 p.m.(8/19/1011 AR)
Relationship Note on Hickson
Those visiting Whitereef Hall might see a new addition, a Northlands shepherd named Sini. A fine and playful puppy, I've already seen her take instruction well owing to Lord Jyri's talents. But I've to thank Hickson Gales more for the fine gift: a companion and defender in an opportune moment.
Written By Apollo
Aug. 11, 2019, 10:55 p.m.(8/19/1011 AR)
Sparring is strange sport. I understand the need for training, practically, particularly for knights and soldiers, defenders all. But this joyous play with swords, what is it about it that appeals so much to so many? Where is the pleasure in it? Maybe someone who enjoys it can enlighten me.
Written By Elgana
Aug. 11, 2019, 10:37 p.m.(8/19/1011 AR)
I love it when I have a new project in the works — all of the planning, all of the plotting. I cannot wait for the result. In time, though. In time. Until then I will just content myself with each stage of the journey, for truly that is the most fun.
Written By Torian
Aug. 11, 2019, 10:35 p.m.(8/19/1011 AR)
It's pretty easy to forget how different the world is leagues... even easier to not realize how it is just outside the gates or even down your own lane.
Written By Thesarin
Aug. 11, 2019, 10:13 p.m.(8/19/1011 AR)
Relationship Note on Elloise
Can't say folk in the woods was less minded to manners than in Civilization, how I remember it.
Not so many rules about it, be sure. But Civilized folk can give more offense without worry they'll be opened nave to chops.
Not so many rules about it, be sure. But Civilized folk can give more offense without worry they'll be opened nave to chops.
Please note that the scholars may take some time preparing your journal for others to read.