Written By Vitalis
Nov. 20, 2021, 6:35 p.m.(8/9/1016 AR)
By its nature, a path has been so often tread that it became a path. If there is no path ahead, it is likely that none have been where you are going and it is yours to blaze. Or, another possibility, you have arrived.
Written By Sydney
Nov. 20, 2021, 1:51 p.m.(8/8/1016 AR)
Succession squabbles are a tricky business.
A wonderful amount of time, planning, and dedication to a very delicate dance for what amounts to using the lives of children as playing pieces.
Repugnant.
A wonderful amount of time, planning, and dedication to a very delicate dance for what amounts to using the lives of children as playing pieces.
Repugnant.
Written By Ida
Nov. 20, 2021, 1:12 p.m.(8/8/1016 AR)
I did a small restock of the shop recently. Stuff move a bit more slowly these days, and I wonder if I should be making more swords or basic armor instead of bows, hairpins, and daggers - considering the state of things. It is hard to really know what might be most useful. I mean, even a pair of hairpins can be considered useful in the right circumstance. Maybe it's time to put my focus on larger projects. Still, the forge tends to not only ground me when I need it, but creating things is such a joy... I guess we'll see.
Written By Haakon
Nov. 20, 2021, 10:30 a.m.(8/8/1016 AR)
Etiquette: the art of doing whatever the fuck one wants, while pretending to follow rules.
Written By Giada
Nov. 20, 2021, 10:17 a.m.(8/8/1016 AR)
Boredom is of the Abyss.
Written By Drusila
Nov. 20, 2021, 8:09 a.m.(8/8/1016 AR)
If you could go anywhere, where would you go? A question I am forced to ask myself as I see that there is an Explorer's trip up for bidding from Princess Lou herself. A tantalizing prize.
Written By Drusila
Nov. 20, 2021, 8:09 a.m.(8/8/1016 AR)
If you could go anywhere, where would you go? A question I am forced to ask myself as I see that there is an Explorer's trip up for bidding from Princess Lou herself. A tantalizing prize.
Written By Raymesin
Nov. 20, 2021, 4:13 a.m.(8/8/1016 AR)
Relationship Note on Raja
That's the funny thing about paths. Sometimes it looks like you've come to a fork in the road, but there's always a third way, even if it takes some searching to find it. What we've got isn't really paths - we're in a forest, and we can go any way we please. Some ways are paths, some are tangles of undergrowth, some are full-on hedges to be cut through. All we can do is choose where we want to go and take the path that looks like it might get us a bit closer, and if there isn't one we're willing to take, we make it.
You and me, we both found a path to surviving and even thriving in our world. We took it, or we died. It wasn't easy, but we both made it out of that maze with its many, many dead ends. So where do you want to go now? Fame? Fortune? Power? Stability? Truth? Freedom? Pick one, pick several, pick all of them if you want, and set out - or don't, and just wander aimlessly. Just remember that if you don't know where you're going, you're never going to get there.
The dangerous bit is that every path demands something of us, and the easier it looks, the more dangerous it'll probably be. I mean, who puts a trap in the undergrowth when there's a nice handy path right there, with a signpost marked 'power' sending folks that way? And there's predators in this forest, always keeping an eye out for the unwary, and occasionally a tree falls. And there's always the paths with a toll, the ones where it looks like there's no other way than to pay up in whatever the path demands. There is always another way, it's just whether it's worth the effort of hacking your way through to find it.
Your paths and your choices are usually only clear when you look back to see which way you've been, and see your footsteps shining bright behind you, illuminating the ways you didn't take and the choices you didn't make. That's when it becomes a path rather than just endless possibility.
Thank you, Scholar. You were a great help with that one.
You and me, we both found a path to surviving and even thriving in our world. We took it, or we died. It wasn't easy, but we both made it out of that maze with its many, many dead ends. So where do you want to go now? Fame? Fortune? Power? Stability? Truth? Freedom? Pick one, pick several, pick all of them if you want, and set out - or don't, and just wander aimlessly. Just remember that if you don't know where you're going, you're never going to get there.
The dangerous bit is that every path demands something of us, and the easier it looks, the more dangerous it'll probably be. I mean, who puts a trap in the undergrowth when there's a nice handy path right there, with a signpost marked 'power' sending folks that way? And there's predators in this forest, always keeping an eye out for the unwary, and occasionally a tree falls. And there's always the paths with a toll, the ones where it looks like there's no other way than to pay up in whatever the path demands. There is always another way, it's just whether it's worth the effort of hacking your way through to find it.
Your paths and your choices are usually only clear when you look back to see which way you've been, and see your footsteps shining bright behind you, illuminating the ways you didn't take and the choices you didn't make. That's when it becomes a path rather than just endless possibility.
Thank you, Scholar. You were a great help with that one.
Written By Ciaphas
Nov. 19, 2021, 11:04 p.m.(8/7/1016 AR)
Dear Diary,
I wish to write about the culture that I now live in. Specifically Ischian culture. One might think - isn't that simply Pravus culture? - but I've found it to be like saying that each desert in Eurus is just sand. Yes, there is Pravus culture, but it has been taken, distilled and fortified in the turbulant oceans, and then further purified by the harsh salt in the dock air. Then you take that delight, that lust for life, and you give it blood and violence. You tell it that in order for it to survive, it must lust for more than just scraps, it must fight and take what it cannot trade for. That no matter the size of the opponent, to be known as a most venomous opponent will give pause.
For yes, you may be able to kill an Ischian, but be rest assured that with their last smiling, laughing, blood-spitting-in-your-face breath, that you've forgotten about that first scratch that they scored when you went at them with your blade. It stopped being itchy long before you managed to finally put them down, and now the wound is already black, stinking and weeping.
You won't even make it to see a Mercy, nevermind an Apothecary that's capable of understanding what toxins and Gods know what else they put on that dagger they were carrying in their off hand. That's the Ischian lust for life. To hunger for it so much that you're willing to ensure that anyone who dares to kill you, goes down with you - no matter how big, or skilled, or proud they are. Sometimes it only takes a scratch to bring the biggest of beasts to their knees.
And if the Ischian survives, that beast is probably going to be promptly skinned, harvested, and all parts put to use. Then they'll have a great feast, ensure that the story goes down in legends as you being 15 feet tall and capable of shooting lightning from your eyes - and then they'll all stop laughing and drinking, and stare at you, as if daring you to doubt them.
It's easier if you cheer with them - they'll even sip the drink they'll hand off to you, from the lowest of the dock workers to the highest of Lords and Ladies - for despite that aggressive pursuit of life, they understand that life must be enjoyed in all forms, and sometimes that means proving that despite being venomous, if you pay attention to their warning signs and ways, you'll find a steadfast ally who will - despite what any may say - will take a blade for someone who earns their trust.
I can assure you of that, because I am an Eurusi turned Ischian, and have had the good luck to earn the trust of Ischia - my people. I extend that same heartfelt, cuthroat welcome to any who would visit.
Just remember - if it walks like a Pravus, drinks like a Pravus, smiles like a Pravus, and fights like some venomous sea serpent backed into a corner and willing to die fighting than asking for quarter - it's probably an Ischian, and if you buy one a drink, sip it first. They'll appreciate the gesture.
Now, I'm also looking for recommendations for wine. I've a desperate need to replace a portion of a particular wine cellar. I should most likely look into that.
Kiss kiss.
I wish to write about the culture that I now live in. Specifically Ischian culture. One might think - isn't that simply Pravus culture? - but I've found it to be like saying that each desert in Eurus is just sand. Yes, there is Pravus culture, but it has been taken, distilled and fortified in the turbulant oceans, and then further purified by the harsh salt in the dock air. Then you take that delight, that lust for life, and you give it blood and violence. You tell it that in order for it to survive, it must lust for more than just scraps, it must fight and take what it cannot trade for. That no matter the size of the opponent, to be known as a most venomous opponent will give pause.
For yes, you may be able to kill an Ischian, but be rest assured that with their last smiling, laughing, blood-spitting-in-your-face breath, that you've forgotten about that first scratch that they scored when you went at them with your blade. It stopped being itchy long before you managed to finally put them down, and now the wound is already black, stinking and weeping.
You won't even make it to see a Mercy, nevermind an Apothecary that's capable of understanding what toxins and Gods know what else they put on that dagger they were carrying in their off hand. That's the Ischian lust for life. To hunger for it so much that you're willing to ensure that anyone who dares to kill you, goes down with you - no matter how big, or skilled, or proud they are. Sometimes it only takes a scratch to bring the biggest of beasts to their knees.
And if the Ischian survives, that beast is probably going to be promptly skinned, harvested, and all parts put to use. Then they'll have a great feast, ensure that the story goes down in legends as you being 15 feet tall and capable of shooting lightning from your eyes - and then they'll all stop laughing and drinking, and stare at you, as if daring you to doubt them.
It's easier if you cheer with them - they'll even sip the drink they'll hand off to you, from the lowest of the dock workers to the highest of Lords and Ladies - for despite that aggressive pursuit of life, they understand that life must be enjoyed in all forms, and sometimes that means proving that despite being venomous, if you pay attention to their warning signs and ways, you'll find a steadfast ally who will - despite what any may say - will take a blade for someone who earns their trust.
I can assure you of that, because I am an Eurusi turned Ischian, and have had the good luck to earn the trust of Ischia - my people. I extend that same heartfelt, cuthroat welcome to any who would visit.
Just remember - if it walks like a Pravus, drinks like a Pravus, smiles like a Pravus, and fights like some venomous sea serpent backed into a corner and willing to die fighting than asking for quarter - it's probably an Ischian, and if you buy one a drink, sip it first. They'll appreciate the gesture.
Now, I'm also looking for recommendations for wine. I've a desperate need to replace a portion of a particular wine cellar. I should most likely look into that.
Kiss kiss.
Written By Mirari
Nov. 19, 2021, 10:41 p.m.(8/7/1016 AR)
She had arrived early as it was her practice to do so she could watch their last moments. The baker had known the woman since she was young, fresh off the boat to his great city, and their relationship had always been warm. There was no reason to welcome her with anything but a smile. He was unaware that somewhere along the way he made enemies, people with means.
That did not last the first exchange. Green eyes followed his every movement as he stammered and tried to reason her words as a practical joke. You would be surprised as what passes for humor in the Lower Boroughs. Alas, that was no joke and, deep inside, he knew it.
She allowed him the mercy of walking himself through his feelings one last time, and when it was time she asked him a question:
"Why should I spare you in face of all the others I didn't before? What makes you that special?"
It was a cruel thing to ask, she knew it then and I am sure she knows it now. What kind of good-natured person could answer such question, to declare themselves worthy of saving when others were not? The baker couldn't either. He was a good man.
Nowdays his shop remains open, now ran by his daughter, a honest woman who learned everything her father ever taught her. I would dissuade any from looking for this bakery: they are dime in a dozen in the Lower Boroughs but in case you do find it, take a moment to taste its sugary rolls and tip the baker generously.
This story, and many like it, is, of course, not true, but it still asks something important: facing that last dance, what would you say to the Queen of Endings?
That did not last the first exchange. Green eyes followed his every movement as he stammered and tried to reason her words as a practical joke. You would be surprised as what passes for humor in the Lower Boroughs. Alas, that was no joke and, deep inside, he knew it.
She allowed him the mercy of walking himself through his feelings one last time, and when it was time she asked him a question:
"Why should I spare you in face of all the others I didn't before? What makes you that special?"
It was a cruel thing to ask, she knew it then and I am sure she knows it now. What kind of good-natured person could answer such question, to declare themselves worthy of saving when others were not? The baker couldn't either. He was a good man.
Nowdays his shop remains open, now ran by his daughter, a honest woman who learned everything her father ever taught her. I would dissuade any from looking for this bakery: they are dime in a dozen in the Lower Boroughs but in case you do find it, take a moment to taste its sugary rolls and tip the baker generously.
This story, and many like it, is, of course, not true, but it still asks something important: facing that last dance, what would you say to the Queen of Endings?
Written By Raja
Nov. 19, 2021, 9:49 p.m.(8/7/1016 AR)
With the appearance of the moon during the day, I feel this is a bad omen in my life. I have followed the doctrine of Skald for years. I have been proud to call myself a Liberator. But, I am told that the moon is an ill omen for choice. That terrifies me. What if everything that has ever happened was 'meant' to happen to lead up to some ultimate event? What if Destiny is a thing once more? This terrifies me.
Written By Raja
Nov. 19, 2021, 9:41 p.m.(8/7/1016 AR)
I have had more than one person warn me that I need to be careful which path I choose in my life. I sit back and furrow my brows. What are my choices? My entire life has basically been an endeavor for survival. People that are raised with the silver spoons in their mouths have the luxury of figuring that shit out. For myself and many others like me, I struggled with even thinking I would have a tomorrow. So, trying to figure out what 'path' I should go down is rather difficult. I only see darkness ahead, no paths. I often just feel as if I am flailing about and just trying to grasp at whatever I can latch onto. It would be nice for a bit of light to be shed on the 'path' so that I know what the right thing to do is.
Written By Thea
Nov. 19, 2021, 8:58 p.m.(8/7/1016 AR)
It was nice to get away. If only for a little while.
Written By Thea
Nov. 19, 2021, 8:07 p.m.(8/7/1016 AR)
Relationship Note on Kiera
After watching my sister in law in the wine making contest at Saikland Greens, I'm pretty sure she may be a secret Lycene somewhere. It was pretty impressive to watch her smash grapes and everything else. She may have a no longer hidden talent.
Written By Baldessare
Nov. 19, 2021, 4:34 p.m.(8/7/1016 AR)
Such a fantastic time spent at the Saik Vineyard. A truly fantastic party thrown by Lady Medeia Eswynd. And I was very pleased to represent our family and prove that even the least skilled of us, namely I, can still perform well at identifying wines.
Written By Gio
Nov. 19, 2021, 3:15 p.m.(8/6/1016 AR)
I find haze a wonderfully helpful substance when it allows me to spend an entire hour admiring the beauty of a single, dried rose petal.
Written By Aureth
Nov. 19, 2021, 2:22 p.m.(8/6/1016 AR)
Relationship Note on Jaenelle
Please ask the Archduchess if she has tried guaranteeing to the clientele at the Black Fox that the meat in the soup isn't lizard, I always found that worked a treat.
Written By Aelgar
Nov. 19, 2021, 12:57 p.m.(8/6/1016 AR)
New apartment, same responsibilities. Long and short is no drama, no new crises. We are still trying to arrange meetings and manage schedules, but I feel that is an endless task and so more workaday operations than a special project. I feel like I am running each day, yet there is no special recent project or event that can account for such. Maybe I just need to get out of the city more...
Written By Auda
Nov. 19, 2021, 12:30 p.m.(8/6/1016 AR)
I didn't win any of the competitions, sadly, but Saikland's wine festival was pretty fun, all in all. Particularly all the tasting. I haven't found one to compete with Lenosian Red as my favourite, but there were some good alternatives.
Written By Lucita
Nov. 19, 2021, 1:15 a.m.(8/5/1016 AR)
It was good to visit Saikland Greens once more. The vineyards were at their best, lush grapes, herbs, flowers, fruits scenting the air. The beaches stretched clean and fresh, and I got to see my oldest twins and husband for a while. A group from Arx came to tour and dabble a bit in the wine making techniques varying from picking the proper grapes to dancing in the vats to squish them into pulp and juice. They saw how difficult to handle the barrels of wine and botle it but seemed to enjoy the tasting of the many varieties.
Please note that the scholars may take some time preparing your journal for others to read.