Written By Fortunato
Jan. 19, 2024, 11:13 a.m.(8/2/1021 AR)
Relationship Note on Aleksei
Was our friendship extremely strange? Are all my friendships extremely strange? All I know for sure is that when the days are dire, when it is time to go, when it is time to act, you will always be right there. Attempting some fool, big-hearted thing, caring of how much it will hurt. We have fought, we do not see eye to eye on many things, for all we have been in the cause of freedom together, but at this last, I am with you. Til every chain is broken. Until spring comes and the fields are sown for renewal.
Written By Rosalind
Jan. 19, 2024, 10 a.m.(8/2/1021 AR)
I have been entrusted with far more than I feel I deserve. My only hope is that I won't let anyone down. I will fight for my people and my family. Cillian is probably looking down, guiding my fingers, showing me what to do.
Written By Lisebet
Jan. 19, 2024, 8:45 a.m.(8/2/1021 AR)
Why is it that in the midst of all the terror, grim reckonings and obvious danger, people still must seek to gain advantage "for when we return"?
I suppose that is because they have the freedom to choose.
And even still, in the midst of all this chaos, there is still room for moments of awe and wonder.
I suppose that is because they have the freedom to choose.
And even still, in the midst of all this chaos, there is still room for moments of awe and wonder.
Written By Viviana
Jan. 19, 2024, 6:24 a.m.(8/2/1021 AR)
My sword, forged from star iron, Nightfall -- I wield against the enemies of the city we hold close to our hearts, in service of the Whisper House.
Written By Filshiar
Jan. 19, 2024, 5:42 a.m.(8/2/1021 AR)
Relationship Note on Dacian
Whatever happens, wherever we end up, I will find my way back to you.
Written By Duarte
Jan. 19, 2024, 5:03 a.m.(8/2/1021 AR)
Journal
Defeated and dismayed, we left the Halfway House for Arx without a single thing to show for it. The loss of appetite made sense for the humiliation of it all - though months of planning preceded our venture, we found ourselves entirely unprepared.
I would say it took some days, perhaps a week, before the realization stuck. I had not been eating. I was not only not hungry, I was full and sated. And then, the hunger came, sharp and painful, I was starved. And yet, I could not bring myself to eat. It took everything I had to will myself to a meal. Every scent of food and every bite made me feel like retching. It was as if I were stuffing down a fifth course of entree, and yet I starved. It was a pain so twisting I almost envied Sir Jordan Ober being spared the brunt of it when he fell defending Duke Harlan Ashford not but soon after returning to the city.
I was able to find some minor relief - very minor - in concoctions of nutrient-steeped tea prepared by Lady Ray Laveer. For some months it would be the only thing I 'ate'.
But then the nightmares began. Always the same. Hungry - so hungry - I found myself back in that beautifully crafted garden surrounded by rich, plump berries. I found myself eating them but my hunger would not slake. Frantic, as if soon to die of starvation, I find myself feasting on bread and meats, an assortment of cheese, fruits and vegetables. Yet, still, I am unfulfilled. I only grow more hungry.
And I can feel it in my belly. Something evil stirring in the pit of my stomach. A parasitic thing growing and embedding itself through my gut and into my brain. I found myself in these dreams yearning for the Halfway House. Wishing myself to return to the garden and lay in it. To stay there at rest until the berries I'm sure have taken root in my stomach sprout and grow out of me and feast on my flesh to give them life and strengthen their growth. I wished to join the rest of the vines in the garden, and to give the last of my life to feed that corruption growing within me. Every time I closed my eyes I would see it.
Through these days of endless torment of unsatisfiable hunger and wretched dream, I yet fought to keep up appearances. I grew gaunt and weary, yet somehow was capable. I took on Rinel Tern - a scholar I had met at the Ambassador - as my protege. I had never been much of a religious mind beyond accepting at its word the little dogma I had been fed. But Rinel was a wealth of information and I enjoyed her lessons - even if we disagreed quite vehemently about what those lessons /meant/. The conclusions she would draw left me perplexed, but for the knowledge itself, I was grateful.
For the better part of a year I managed a life in this way. The hunger with its paradoxical absence of appetite, the dreams - all the same - became ultimately regarded as permanent handicaps. I found myself attending the shrines more and more as I kept up my study in the Faith. I took up philanthropy and did what I could to balance this constant aching for corruption with defiance in acts of piety. I was certain things would stay this way until my last breath, and I made peace with it.
But as usual, I was wrong.
Defeated and dismayed, we left the Halfway House for Arx without a single thing to show for it. The loss of appetite made sense for the humiliation of it all - though months of planning preceded our venture, we found ourselves entirely unprepared.
I would say it took some days, perhaps a week, before the realization stuck. I had not been eating. I was not only not hungry, I was full and sated. And then, the hunger came, sharp and painful, I was starved. And yet, I could not bring myself to eat. It took everything I had to will myself to a meal. Every scent of food and every bite made me feel like retching. It was as if I were stuffing down a fifth course of entree, and yet I starved. It was a pain so twisting I almost envied Sir Jordan Ober being spared the brunt of it when he fell defending Duke Harlan Ashford not but soon after returning to the city.
I was able to find some minor relief - very minor - in concoctions of nutrient-steeped tea prepared by Lady Ray Laveer. For some months it would be the only thing I 'ate'.
But then the nightmares began. Always the same. Hungry - so hungry - I found myself back in that beautifully crafted garden surrounded by rich, plump berries. I found myself eating them but my hunger would not slake. Frantic, as if soon to die of starvation, I find myself feasting on bread and meats, an assortment of cheese, fruits and vegetables. Yet, still, I am unfulfilled. I only grow more hungry.
And I can feel it in my belly. Something evil stirring in the pit of my stomach. A parasitic thing growing and embedding itself through my gut and into my brain. I found myself in these dreams yearning for the Halfway House. Wishing myself to return to the garden and lay in it. To stay there at rest until the berries I'm sure have taken root in my stomach sprout and grow out of me and feast on my flesh to give them life and strengthen their growth. I wished to join the rest of the vines in the garden, and to give the last of my life to feed that corruption growing within me. Every time I closed my eyes I would see it.
Through these days of endless torment of unsatisfiable hunger and wretched dream, I yet fought to keep up appearances. I grew gaunt and weary, yet somehow was capable. I took on Rinel Tern - a scholar I had met at the Ambassador - as my protege. I had never been much of a religious mind beyond accepting at its word the little dogma I had been fed. But Rinel was a wealth of information and I enjoyed her lessons - even if we disagreed quite vehemently about what those lessons /meant/. The conclusions she would draw left me perplexed, but for the knowledge itself, I was grateful.
For the better part of a year I managed a life in this way. The hunger with its paradoxical absence of appetite, the dreams - all the same - became ultimately regarded as permanent handicaps. I found myself attending the shrines more and more as I kept up my study in the Faith. I took up philanthropy and did what I could to balance this constant aching for corruption with defiance in acts of piety. I was certain things would stay this way until my last breath, and I made peace with it.
But as usual, I was wrong.
Written By Denica
Jan. 19, 2024, 3:10 a.m.(8/1/1021 AR)
Relationship Note on Victus
You never asked me to be anyone but myself. You gave me freedom.
Written By Fatima
Jan. 19, 2024, 2:35 a.m.(8/1/1021 AR)
Day 11:
If my entries are making you feel something, then they are doing their job.
On the thirteenth day, I will share my most damning secret in my Two Truths and a Lie.
Or maybe I already did.
If my entries are making you feel something, then they are doing their job.
On the thirteenth day, I will share my most damning secret in my Two Truths and a Lie.
Or maybe I already did.
Written By Mirari
Jan. 19, 2024, 2:09 a.m.(8/1/1021 AR)
Once more, I will go to home to Setarco, and spill some fucker's blood.
Written By Lianne
Jan. 19, 2024, 12:49 a.m.(8/1/1021 AR)
There is, in the depths of the Abyss, a vast garden of unimaginable beauty. Crystalline flowers grow in every direction, stretching to the horizon and beyond, their petals so delicate that the barest mishandling might see an entire bloom crumble to dust. Each time we pray and receive no response from the Gods, a new flower blooms in Despair's garden.
In the heart of the Garden of Unanswered Prayers stands a grove which grows in bold and bright defiance of the muted beauty which surrounds it, of the inherent gloom of the Abyss. Countless copper flowers grow, each a desperate prayer spoken by Copper that went unanswered. There was no answer for her, nothing to be done to change what had to be. Not even the Gods in all their grace and capability could grant her what she sought.
Her beloved Gold had given his life to shatter the Will of Baalphrigor, to buy time to seal the Archfiend away, to keep the Dream from ending. Copper, stricken with grief, tried again and again and again to find the right set of circumstances, the right set of choices which might allow her beloved to live in the world he saved, to both save the world and save her lover. Each time she failed, each time her heart broke again, another copper flower grew. The grove stands now as a testament to the Great Unbound's tenacity and to the terrible truth that some stories cannot be changed.
Some of us alive today gave up our own dreams, our own hopes to ensure that this story, the one we are living right now which seems so impossibly grim, is not set in stone. We can yet write the ending to this chapter and the beginning of the next. Our path is ours to choose, together.
In the heart of the Garden of Unanswered Prayers stands a grove which grows in bold and bright defiance of the muted beauty which surrounds it, of the inherent gloom of the Abyss. Countless copper flowers grow, each a desperate prayer spoken by Copper that went unanswered. There was no answer for her, nothing to be done to change what had to be. Not even the Gods in all their grace and capability could grant her what she sought.
Her beloved Gold had given his life to shatter the Will of Baalphrigor, to buy time to seal the Archfiend away, to keep the Dream from ending. Copper, stricken with grief, tried again and again and again to find the right set of circumstances, the right set of choices which might allow her beloved to live in the world he saved, to both save the world and save her lover. Each time she failed, each time her heart broke again, another copper flower grew. The grove stands now as a testament to the Great Unbound's tenacity and to the terrible truth that some stories cannot be changed.
Some of us alive today gave up our own dreams, our own hopes to ensure that this story, the one we are living right now which seems so impossibly grim, is not set in stone. We can yet write the ending to this chapter and the beginning of the next. Our path is ours to choose, together.
Written By Denica
Jan. 19, 2024, 12:18 a.m.(8/1/1021 AR)
I danced in the face of adversity, and painted the walls with truth.
I celebrated trouble, and followed my heart wherever it took.
I sculpted the storm to see who I was, and never looked back.
I was always unapologetically, completely and utterly, Denica Thrax.
I celebrated trouble, and followed my heart wherever it took.
I sculpted the storm to see who I was, and never looked back.
I was always unapologetically, completely and utterly, Denica Thrax.
Written By Lianne
Jan. 19, 2024, 12:10 a.m.(8/1/1021 AR)
Transcribed from my Blacks by my own hand:
(11/19/1010 AR)
Shared only with Dusk, who replied with his own brilliant composition. Documented here for posterity, even if it's not a precisely accurate representation of my experience.
The Garden of Unanswered Prayers
Some stories are set in stone,
their endings never to be righted,
carved in ice and in copper grown.
I walked through gardens, not alone,
each bloom born of hope unrequited,
of stories long since set in stone.
For one dreamer: a garden all her own,
countless roses for a heart unquiet,
all rimed in ice and copper grown.
Blossoms of glinting metal shown
for every regrown hope benighted,
her endless story set in stone.
With futility such beauty was sown.
Only one mortal has ever delighted
in all that ice and copper grown.
Her story is one you've always known,
no happy ending or lovers united.
Some stories are forever set in stone,
carved in ice, in copper grown.
(11/19/1010 AR)
Shared only with Dusk, who replied with his own brilliant composition. Documented here for posterity, even if it's not a precisely accurate representation of my experience.
The Garden of Unanswered Prayers
Some stories are set in stone,
their endings never to be righted,
carved in ice and in copper grown.
I walked through gardens, not alone,
each bloom born of hope unrequited,
of stories long since set in stone.
For one dreamer: a garden all her own,
countless roses for a heart unquiet,
all rimed in ice and copper grown.
Blossoms of glinting metal shown
for every regrown hope benighted,
her endless story set in stone.
With futility such beauty was sown.
Only one mortal has ever delighted
in all that ice and copper grown.
Her story is one you've always known,
no happy ending or lovers united.
Some stories are forever set in stone,
carved in ice, in copper grown.
Written By Eirene
Jan. 18, 2024, 8:22 p.m.(8/1/1021 AR)
I miss Calypso...
Written By Evelynn
Jan. 18, 2024, 7:09 p.m.(8/1/1021 AR)
This is a fun game!
Day 1:
There is a tunnel beneath the city that will lead you to a pile of treasure.
I mourn those of House Helianthus that perished to that demonic horde.
I believe all of those leading the fight against Obsidian head on are incredibly brave.
Day 1:
There is a tunnel beneath the city that will lead you to a pile of treasure.
I mourn those of House Helianthus that perished to that demonic horde.
I believe all of those leading the fight against Obsidian head on are incredibly brave.
Written By Vashtalyn
Jan. 18, 2024, 6:21 p.m.(8/1/1021 AR)
I know there is a lot of fear out there. And there is a lot of bravery. I admire the courage of the people of the Compact, and all of those who would face the darkness to come. I admit, I do not know all of what is happening, beyond what I hear from rumors and word on the street. What I do know, however, is that there is yet hope. I have seen it.
Those of you seeking to defend your capitals, know that you are watched over. Your lives, and the lives of your people, matter. Your actions are not fruitless. There is meaning in them. Believe.
Those of you taking on other dangerous tasks, do not stray from your course. Hope will keep you steady.
Those staying to defend Arx... defend it with all your heart. Put your love, and your courage, and your life into it. But most of all, believe.
That is all I wanted to say. I do not write journals very often. But I wanted to share this one message.
Believe. Hope, and you may prevail. Nothing is certain, of course. I wish that I could say with certainty that everything will turn out. I cannot. People will die. Things will be lost, and have already been lost. Yet there is a light of hope in the darkness. Cling to it, a shining thread to see you through. Believe.
In the meantime, if anyone wishes to have symbols of hope sewn into their clothing, please reach out to me. I shall do my best, in the little time that is left.
Those of you seeking to defend your capitals, know that you are watched over. Your lives, and the lives of your people, matter. Your actions are not fruitless. There is meaning in them. Believe.
Those of you taking on other dangerous tasks, do not stray from your course. Hope will keep you steady.
Those staying to defend Arx... defend it with all your heart. Put your love, and your courage, and your life into it. But most of all, believe.
That is all I wanted to say. I do not write journals very often. But I wanted to share this one message.
Believe. Hope, and you may prevail. Nothing is certain, of course. I wish that I could say with certainty that everything will turn out. I cannot. People will die. Things will be lost, and have already been lost. Yet there is a light of hope in the darkness. Cling to it, a shining thread to see you through. Believe.
In the meantime, if anyone wishes to have symbols of hope sewn into their clothing, please reach out to me. I shall do my best, in the little time that is left.
Written By Medeia
Jan. 18, 2024, 5:19 p.m.(8/1/1021 AR)
I think I may have seen Saikland Greens for the last time. If not for the last time, I will never again see it as it was. I'm glad that I can keep in my memory that perfect summer morning - the warm sun burning off the mist over the southern mountains, dew sparkling across the vineyards like millions of diamonds, the scent of roses and honeysuckle and the distant forges of the glassmakers starting for the day, the early birds chirping while the crickets begin to settle into slumber. Fingers laced together on the veranda before breakfast. Home in both.
I'm deeply grateful to all who visited in the last few months - I hope they remember it fondly. Our last mirroball. Discovering the truth of what happened to the Gyre forces that had hidden away on the edges of our land. Trying to help me find Emilio. Recovering the sword of Alessandra Saik.
The first Alessandra Saik was a trusted member of the Platinum Guard at the time of the Reckoning. She, along with many others, fought alongside Platinum against the Abyss, protecting the Lyceum and lands beyond. The Guard made its home in the lands that would become Saikland Greens - lands granted to Alessandra after the Reckoning by Platinum. She became baroness and was joined by her husband - a fellow member of the Guard who abdicated his place as duke of House Fidante to be with her. Saik was born from heroes of the Reckoning.
There was a second Alessandra Saik, a few hundred years later, and a family feud that saw Rage of the Lioness - the first Alessandra's sword - taken and lost over the years as the Saiks of Saikland Greens forgot that feud happened, and didn't come to blows with the Alsaiks not terribly far from our lands. It was this second Alessandra that married a woman named Vanessa Malvici - hers is a story I may tell eventually.
I couldn't have face them alone. And I regret that I may never see a day when Saik and Alsaik can make amends. But I hope that Baron Marthan Alsaik truly realizes what I gave up in exchange for the Rage of the Lioness. I hope, too, that he was not too proud to heed my evacuation orders.
The last months have been filled with harder and harder decisions, each new challenge presenting some previously impossible to imagine circumstances. Lucita and I have done our best. I sincerely believe that there is no choice we could have made differently to lead to some better outcome for our people. Not one choice has come without shedding tears in anger and anguish - the cost of freedom and choice is consequence. I accept this. It does not make it any easier on my heart.
To the people of Saikland Greens, I am sorry that the circumstances did not allow us to make better choices for you. If there was a way to do it differently, we would have. You're shining examples of what it means to be Lycene, of what it means to be Compact. Stand at Lenosia and make them pay for everything they have taken from us. Live and remember who you are, where you come from.
We will remember.
I'm deeply grateful to all who visited in the last few months - I hope they remember it fondly. Our last mirroball. Discovering the truth of what happened to the Gyre forces that had hidden away on the edges of our land. Trying to help me find Emilio. Recovering the sword of Alessandra Saik.
The first Alessandra Saik was a trusted member of the Platinum Guard at the time of the Reckoning. She, along with many others, fought alongside Platinum against the Abyss, protecting the Lyceum and lands beyond. The Guard made its home in the lands that would become Saikland Greens - lands granted to Alessandra after the Reckoning by Platinum. She became baroness and was joined by her husband - a fellow member of the Guard who abdicated his place as duke of House Fidante to be with her. Saik was born from heroes of the Reckoning.
There was a second Alessandra Saik, a few hundred years later, and a family feud that saw Rage of the Lioness - the first Alessandra's sword - taken and lost over the years as the Saiks of Saikland Greens forgot that feud happened, and didn't come to blows with the Alsaiks not terribly far from our lands. It was this second Alessandra that married a woman named Vanessa Malvici - hers is a story I may tell eventually.
I couldn't have face them alone. And I regret that I may never see a day when Saik and Alsaik can make amends. But I hope that Baron Marthan Alsaik truly realizes what I gave up in exchange for the Rage of the Lioness. I hope, too, that he was not too proud to heed my evacuation orders.
The last months have been filled with harder and harder decisions, each new challenge presenting some previously impossible to imagine circumstances. Lucita and I have done our best. I sincerely believe that there is no choice we could have made differently to lead to some better outcome for our people. Not one choice has come without shedding tears in anger and anguish - the cost of freedom and choice is consequence. I accept this. It does not make it any easier on my heart.
To the people of Saikland Greens, I am sorry that the circumstances did not allow us to make better choices for you. If there was a way to do it differently, we would have. You're shining examples of what it means to be Lycene, of what it means to be Compact. Stand at Lenosia and make them pay for everything they have taken from us. Live and remember who you are, where you come from.
We will remember.
Written By Ian
Jan. 18, 2024, 5:17 p.m.(8/1/1021 AR)
In Vellichor's name, this is my deepest, longest kept secret. I've kept it from my family, my friends. I've kept it from my brothers. For almost twenty years. I air it now, here, and pledge to speak it plainly from this day forward. I won't have this moment from my life strengthen our enemy.
After I fell, when I was seventeen, while I lay strapped to a wooden board, fighting to breathe, after the doctors had told me that my legs would never work again, my mother came in during a lull between doctors and nurses and servants. While we were alone, she told me that I ought to have had the good sense to die on that ship.
She was right. I didn't have the good sense to die. Not then, not after being attacked by the Mor'ral in the north, or stepped on by the gargantuan, or sliced open by the demon outside of Bastion, or while crossing the threshold. Not in battles. Not in storms. Not in shardhavens.
Mothers know their children. I've never had the good sense to die when I ought.
After I fell, when I was seventeen, while I lay strapped to a wooden board, fighting to breathe, after the doctors had told me that my legs would never work again, my mother came in during a lull between doctors and nurses and servants. While we were alone, she told me that I ought to have had the good sense to die on that ship.
She was right. I didn't have the good sense to die. Not then, not after being attacked by the Mor'ral in the north, or stepped on by the gargantuan, or sliced open by the demon outside of Bastion, or while crossing the threshold. Not in battles. Not in storms. Not in shardhavens.
Mothers know their children. I've never had the good sense to die when I ought.
Written By Denica
Jan. 18, 2024, 12:37 p.m.(7/28/1021 AR)
Relationship Note on Donella
When I look at you, I see our mother.
You are one of the strongest people I know. You always have been, ever since I can remember.
Some of my happiest memories growing up, are because of you. I know you sacrificed a lot for us. You stepped in, and much of who I am, is because you did.
You are one of the strongest people I know. You always have been, ever since I can remember.
Some of my happiest memories growing up, are because of you. I know you sacrificed a lot for us. You stepped in, and much of who I am, is because you did.
Written By Martino
Jan. 18, 2024, 11:48 a.m.(7/28/1021 AR)
One thing I am struck by as the noise of the bells go by the docks. As citizens grab their spears, as the trained militia stands themselves ready to march. As the captains yell to get final supplies on board leaving Southport.
That those we lost along the way will be watching on from either the Wheel, or wherever they've ended up, with pride at what we have done and will do in the days, weeks and months to come.
Calypso. Our dear Duchess. I followed your instructions. The citizens of Southport are ready.
Domonico. My dear brother. You were a pain in the ass. The Malvici fleet is ready.
Cicero. My dear Uncle-in-Law. I am not sure if that is a title, but you kept us sane. We are ready.
Aahana. My dear Sister-in-Law. You inspired many and that, today, will pick up the sword to fight in our name. They are ready.
Since the first Reckoning we have trained for this. Prepared ourselves for this. Understood that this is our role.
The House of War and the City of Swords is ready.
That those we lost along the way will be watching on from either the Wheel, or wherever they've ended up, with pride at what we have done and will do in the days, weeks and months to come.
Calypso. Our dear Duchess. I followed your instructions. The citizens of Southport are ready.
Domonico. My dear brother. You were a pain in the ass. The Malvici fleet is ready.
Cicero. My dear Uncle-in-Law. I am not sure if that is a title, but you kept us sane. We are ready.
Aahana. My dear Sister-in-Law. You inspired many and that, today, will pick up the sword to fight in our name. They are ready.
Since the first Reckoning we have trained for this. Prepared ourselves for this. Understood that this is our role.
The House of War and the City of Swords is ready.
Written By Mikani
Jan. 18, 2024, 10:47 a.m.(7/28/1021 AR)
Relationship Note on Artorius
We must not fear. Fear is the mind-killer. Fear is the little-death that brings total obliteration. We will face our fears. We will permit it to pass over us and through us. And when it has gone past we will turn our eyes to see its path. Where the fear has gone there will be nothing. Only we will remain - stronger.
((OOC I know it's a Dune quote but it fits the occasion))
((OOC I know it's a Dune quote but it fits the occasion))
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