Written By Isolde
Feb. 8, 2017, 10:41 p.m.(11/20/1005 AR)
Grief is the strangest of the Passions to me. It always becomes anger, hate, fear, it's never it's own separate force, it's own beast that seeks to claw itself from my heart to overtake my mind. Over the past few weeks, however, I began to truly understand how insidious Grief is, and how for even the practiced Mirrormask, can be a danger, if not controlled.
Grief does not burn hot, consuming the heart and mind. It is not cold, an ice that freezes or snaps. The only metaphor I can attribute would be poison. Deadly poison, undetectable in most ways, that works its way through the body, wrapping around the heart, squeezing ever so slightly, but constantly, until one can't remember how it should feel, only the way it feels with those bands about it.
It snakes up into the mind, after curling those soft bands around the throat, applying pressure, to be sure, but trapping words, twisting them, making it so what one thinks and what one says are so very slightly out of harmony, until one is not sure of their own state. It wraps about the ears, like thorny vines, twisting the words coming in as quiet, as subtle as those that flow through the lips. It distorts just enough until one's own mind cripples, isolates, destroys trust and reason.
Make no mistake, Grief is a Passion, like any other... it can be controlled, used, made to serve one instead of being strangled and suffocated. It is a darkness we all feel at some point in our lives, and can turn the saintly into sinners, even before it reaches the depths of despair. One must be careful with it, however... to much force, too much brute strength of will only scatters it, leaves it lingering to infect once that pressure is lessened. Too little and it slimes its way out of the grasp, choking harder in retribution of one's defiance.
I have learned, for me, at least, Grief is not something to tackle alone. Certainly only my own will can truly own it, use it, but it takes others -- a Father, a Brother, a Sister, More than one Friend, a Love -- to give the grounding necessary to overcome the bitch. Only by those that stand with me, can I take a full breath, see the colors painted in the world. Bit by bit, I burn away the Grief that clouds my mind, that strangles my voice. Bit by bit, I transform the cracks in my heart that will never heal, into something beautiful, a work of art painted in gold, making me, not whole, but transformed. Filling the fractures that will ever remain, with precious love, warmth, affection, community, and making me better for it. Grief is not a path to strength, I think, at least not for me... instead, it is a path to a transformed outlook, a way to remind me that the world is beautiful for the people around me, and worth being better for.
It is a different kind of strength I am used to wielding, but perhaps, given time, practice, and those around me, it will be the greatest strength I have ever known. Maybe this is what she saw when she looked at me, this piece of art, vibrant, treasure, strong. I'll keep working on it.
Grief does not burn hot, consuming the heart and mind. It is not cold, an ice that freezes or snaps. The only metaphor I can attribute would be poison. Deadly poison, undetectable in most ways, that works its way through the body, wrapping around the heart, squeezing ever so slightly, but constantly, until one can't remember how it should feel, only the way it feels with those bands about it.
It snakes up into the mind, after curling those soft bands around the throat, applying pressure, to be sure, but trapping words, twisting them, making it so what one thinks and what one says are so very slightly out of harmony, until one is not sure of their own state. It wraps about the ears, like thorny vines, twisting the words coming in as quiet, as subtle as those that flow through the lips. It distorts just enough until one's own mind cripples, isolates, destroys trust and reason.
Make no mistake, Grief is a Passion, like any other... it can be controlled, used, made to serve one instead of being strangled and suffocated. It is a darkness we all feel at some point in our lives, and can turn the saintly into sinners, even before it reaches the depths of despair. One must be careful with it, however... to much force, too much brute strength of will only scatters it, leaves it lingering to infect once that pressure is lessened. Too little and it slimes its way out of the grasp, choking harder in retribution of one's defiance.
I have learned, for me, at least, Grief is not something to tackle alone. Certainly only my own will can truly own it, use it, but it takes others -- a Father, a Brother, a Sister, More than one Friend, a Love -- to give the grounding necessary to overcome the bitch. Only by those that stand with me, can I take a full breath, see the colors painted in the world. Bit by bit, I burn away the Grief that clouds my mind, that strangles my voice. Bit by bit, I transform the cracks in my heart that will never heal, into something beautiful, a work of art painted in gold, making me, not whole, but transformed. Filling the fractures that will ever remain, with precious love, warmth, affection, community, and making me better for it. Grief is not a path to strength, I think, at least not for me... instead, it is a path to a transformed outlook, a way to remind me that the world is beautiful for the people around me, and worth being better for.
It is a different kind of strength I am used to wielding, but perhaps, given time, practice, and those around me, it will be the greatest strength I have ever known. Maybe this is what she saw when she looked at me, this piece of art, vibrant, treasure, strong. I'll keep working on it.
Written By Dominique
Feb. 8, 2017, 6:28 p.m.(11/19/1005 AR)
I had a moment yesterday to get acquainted with Dame Ida's new pet, Runtystiltskin. I also had a chance to spar with her. She is steep competition with just her fists! It is nice to be able to spar with someone that is of my own gender. You know.. land a strike once in a while.
Written By Rymarr
Feb. 8, 2017, 5:59 p.m.(11/19/1005 AR)
Relationship Note on Aleksei
It has become my personal goal to bring Sir Aleksei Morgan into the collective fold that is service to His Imperial Majesty, King Alaric Grayson IV.
Sir Aleksei has already thrown out many excuses as to why he is unqualified, yet each has been defeated as soundly as Sir Aleksei has defeated many a foe throughout his career as a knight.
It is only a matter of time and a matter of the people believing that Sir Aleksei Morgan could be an unorthodox, but still quite effective protector of the Crown as a member of the most august protects of His Majesty, the King's Own.
I have unerring faith in Sir Aleksei that he will, with time and reflection, come to recognition the immense amount of good he will be capable of when he does finally give in to destiny. I will welcome him with open arms when that time arrives and seek to take his vow myself if permitted.
Gods be praised.
Sir Aleksei has already thrown out many excuses as to why he is unqualified, yet each has been defeated as soundly as Sir Aleksei has defeated many a foe throughout his career as a knight.
It is only a matter of time and a matter of the people believing that Sir Aleksei Morgan could be an unorthodox, but still quite effective protector of the Crown as a member of the most august protects of His Majesty, the King's Own.
I have unerring faith in Sir Aleksei that he will, with time and reflection, come to recognition the immense amount of good he will be capable of when he does finally give in to destiny. I will welcome him with open arms when that time arrives and seek to take his vow myself if permitted.
Gods be praised.
Written By Rowan
Feb. 8, 2017, 5:44 p.m.(11/19/1005 AR)
Relationship Note on Bianca
Interruption seems to be the theme of my meetings with Lady Bianca Wyrmguard, but that's no fault of her own. As adept a mind as she seems to be, I doubt that she has the mental acumen or the temperament to turn the day to fucking night, even if it might get her out of conversing with the likes of me. She's a steady thinker, and holds to the facts without being blown too far from the road by every curious wind. I'm glad to have made her acquaintance.
Written By Victus
Feb. 8, 2017, 5:19 p.m.(11/19/1005 AR)
Relationship Note on Aldwin
He lifted the excommunication on Donella. That by itself would've made me think well of him. But we had a talk, sometime past, that left me with a positive impression.
The Faith will choose what Dominus they will, regardless of my fucking approval.
Still, I approve.
The Faith will choose what Dominus they will, regardless of my fucking approval.
Still, I approve.
Written By Aislin
Feb. 8, 2017, 5:04 p.m.(11/19/1005 AR)
Relationship Note on Rowan
Lord Rowan is an interesting man; the more we interact, the more I realize we have in common. I wouldn't have thought that, at first glance: a tattooed elk-riding shaman, and someone who is all but a field Scholar who simply refuses to actually /join/ the Vellichorian temple.
But the truth is, we share a similar curiosity, a similar desire to /understand/ the world. A similar willingness to push the boundaries in hopes of reclaiming the things we've forgotten. (And also a similar fondness for perching in trees.)
He's one of those handful I could see myself adventuring with quite successfully. I don't have a lot of close friends like that. So the ones who have that potential to become such... well, they're worth remembering.
But the truth is, we share a similar curiosity, a similar desire to /understand/ the world. A similar willingness to push the boundaries in hopes of reclaiming the things we've forgotten. (And also a similar fondness for perching in trees.)
He's one of those handful I could see myself adventuring with quite successfully. I don't have a lot of close friends like that. So the ones who have that potential to become such... well, they're worth remembering.
Written By Aleksei
Feb. 8, 2017, 4:51 p.m.(11/19/1005 AR)
Relationship Note on Holden
My oldest brother is a stuck-up, Oathlander bore who doesn't say /anything/.
And he'll have to catch me first.
And he'll have to catch me first.
Written By Dagon
Feb. 8, 2017, 4:45 p.m.(11/19/1005 AR)
The Dominus has accepted my request to join the ranks of the Faithful. I am now a Disciple of Mangata. If someone had asked me a few months ago if I would have expected to be walking down this road, I wouldn't have guessed it.
Written By Holden
Feb. 8, 2017, 4:38 p.m.(11/19/1005 AR)
Relationship Note on Aleksei
My younger brother is an impulsive man-child. He says whatever it is that comes to his mind. Mm. Proud to know 'im.
Someday soon, I'm gonna end up punchin' him square in the face.
Someday soon, I'm gonna end up punchin' him square in the face.
Written By Donella
Feb. 8, 2017, 3:26 p.m.(11/19/1005 AR)
Gods be praised for being cleared of the excommunication. And the representatives of the faith who heard my appeal at their conclave. And the new Dominus.
It feels like forever since I have been allowed to sit here, and make my communion with the page, and collect my thoughts. I didn't know that I would miss a comfort as commonplace. I am glad that what I had written privately on my own could be added to my folio, for the sake of completion, though I never intend that other eyes should read the contents of my black journals. Much of the time, my words are my attempts to find myself, reading between the lines. Sometimes they shame me, and other times, I discover things to encourage me.
These days have been a test, and a test that in many respects I have failed. So many questions. So few clear choices. My head at war with my spirit. The days are frightening and lonely ones. There are a few hands to reach for, though in the dark times, for strength, wisdom... and aid.
And my journals.
It feels like forever since I have been allowed to sit here, and make my communion with the page, and collect my thoughts. I didn't know that I would miss a comfort as commonplace. I am glad that what I had written privately on my own could be added to my folio, for the sake of completion, though I never intend that other eyes should read the contents of my black journals. Much of the time, my words are my attempts to find myself, reading between the lines. Sometimes they shame me, and other times, I discover things to encourage me.
These days have been a test, and a test that in many respects I have failed. So many questions. So few clear choices. My head at war with my spirit. The days are frightening and lonely ones. There are a few hands to reach for, though in the dark times, for strength, wisdom... and aid.
And my journals.
Written By Ida
Feb. 8, 2017, 3:18 p.m.(11/19/1005 AR)
Elk are majestic creatures and ones, apparently, used rather skillfully as war animals by the Greenmarch family. It is hardly a secret that I have a great fondness for probably every last one of them and feel a bit of kinship. To say I've been honored by their trust in my work as well as their kindness almost goes without saying. But still - worth saying. As usual, though, I follow a tangent a bit.
Sometimes nature has other plans for her creatures, which seems to be the case with Runtystiltskin. So named by Lady Niamh Greenmarch, he is a runt of a war elk who likely would not fare well in the wilderness and is certainly too small to serve as a proper war elk. To say that I am beyond thrilled and grateful that he is now in my charge would be an understatement! If he doesn't seem to mind it, I'm going to see how well he can balance weapons in his antlers soon enough...
Sometimes nature has other plans for her creatures, which seems to be the case with Runtystiltskin. So named by Lady Niamh Greenmarch, he is a runt of a war elk who likely would not fare well in the wilderness and is certainly too small to serve as a proper war elk. To say that I am beyond thrilled and grateful that he is now in my charge would be an understatement! If he doesn't seem to mind it, I'm going to see how well he can balance weapons in his antlers soon enough...
Written By Michael
Feb. 8, 2017, 3:04 p.m.(11/19/1005 AR)
The sun disappeared yesterday--not for long, not forever, but long enough. The upset, the ways in which it influenced so many, feels like evidence of the state of Arx.
So many remain unsettled. So many give into panic. I refuse. If doom aims to rear its head, I will not yield to worry. I will not give into panic. Minds greater than me will have plenty to say about what can be done, but in the interim, I will do what I can to maintain the peace.
I hold my resolve.
So many remain unsettled. So many give into panic. I refuse. If doom aims to rear its head, I will not yield to worry. I will not give into panic. Minds greater than me will have plenty to say about what can be done, but in the interim, I will do what I can to maintain the peace.
I hold my resolve.
Written By Merek
Feb. 8, 2017, 2:03 p.m.(11/18/1005 AR)
Dear Reader,
I would first like to thank you for taking the time to read this scroll, which has been titled, The Silent Reflections. Now some might ask, what are those? Not all know about them, even if such is common knowledge amongst most people in Arvum. Well, the first thing is, these are men and women who have broken their oaths that now serve in the Shrine of the Thirteenth, such as people who were Scholars and viewed the Black Reflections of others, or giving out knowledge that was not sanctioned to do so, such as private treatsies and affairs, being used in ways that they were not meant, against the people. For this, their writing hand and their tongues have been removed. It is sad, but it is the truth of the matter, and these people must live their whole life out as this.
Here, I write about what I learned while serving alongside with the Silent Reflections as part of the Scholars. First, the Silent Reflections are still men, and have personalities, though most have been subdued by what has happened to them. I went as far as to ask of people that knew them to hear of some of their crimes. There was one in particular who sought to use knowledge he found to pull political maneuvers and abuse his position as a Godsworn to sway favor. He had come to learn the error of his ways, but never again will he be able to make the same mistake. Their services are simple, mundane, but... More difficult. One learns that there are quite a few means to end up amongst their ranks. The importance of the oaths are paramount, because the duties are sacred, not meant to be abused for the means of man. It is in this service, where still allowed to live, that I've learned these people must learn the weight of what they had done. And quite a few do hold resentment, but some have come to terms with what they have done.
I would then state that the most important thing I've learned is the heavy price associated to oaths like they once served. And I believe that oath never truly went away. These men are still bound to that oath, but their new duties, are to find a way to repent, that the Gods and men might find them acceptable in spirit once more, for the lives we live upon the world are finite, but much more important is that we take into due consideration the importance of what we do with it, for it determines what will come after.
I would first like to thank you for taking the time to read this scroll, which has been titled, The Silent Reflections. Now some might ask, what are those? Not all know about them, even if such is common knowledge amongst most people in Arvum. Well, the first thing is, these are men and women who have broken their oaths that now serve in the Shrine of the Thirteenth, such as people who were Scholars and viewed the Black Reflections of others, or giving out knowledge that was not sanctioned to do so, such as private treatsies and affairs, being used in ways that they were not meant, against the people. For this, their writing hand and their tongues have been removed. It is sad, but it is the truth of the matter, and these people must live their whole life out as this.
Here, I write about what I learned while serving alongside with the Silent Reflections as part of the Scholars. First, the Silent Reflections are still men, and have personalities, though most have been subdued by what has happened to them. I went as far as to ask of people that knew them to hear of some of their crimes. There was one in particular who sought to use knowledge he found to pull political maneuvers and abuse his position as a Godsworn to sway favor. He had come to learn the error of his ways, but never again will he be able to make the same mistake. Their services are simple, mundane, but... More difficult. One learns that there are quite a few means to end up amongst their ranks. The importance of the oaths are paramount, because the duties are sacred, not meant to be abused for the means of man. It is in this service, where still allowed to live, that I've learned these people must learn the weight of what they had done. And quite a few do hold resentment, but some have come to terms with what they have done.
I would then state that the most important thing I've learned is the heavy price associated to oaths like they once served. And I believe that oath never truly went away. These men are still bound to that oath, but their new duties, are to find a way to repent, that the Gods and men might find them acceptable in spirit once more, for the lives we live upon the world are finite, but much more important is that we take into due consideration the importance of what we do with it, for it determines what will come after.
Written By Harald
Feb. 8, 2017, 1:41 p.m.(11/18/1005 AR)
Survival is no fit goal in war.
Survival is merely the means to the true goal of victory, of dominance. At times, survival is not even needed for that, when one is wise enough, for such is the nature of sacrifice.
It is a fool who aims for a goal that does not ensure final triumph, or marches without knowing how to grasp true victory.
So long as life endures, hope remains, and hope is a virtue.
But domination is a strategy.
Do not hope for mere survival, when one can grasp further, toward triumph.
Survival is merely the means to the true goal of victory, of dominance. At times, survival is not even needed for that, when one is wise enough, for such is the nature of sacrifice.
It is a fool who aims for a goal that does not ensure final triumph, or marches without knowing how to grasp true victory.
So long as life endures, hope remains, and hope is a virtue.
But domination is a strategy.
Do not hope for mere survival, when one can grasp further, toward triumph.
Written By Rowan
Feb. 8, 2017, 1:24 p.m.(11/18/1005 AR)
Relationship Note on Aislin
We started at far sides of the same field. Dispute lead to debate, debate to discourse, discourse to discussion. There is more common ground between us than I'd have expected from the start, and though the paths we're taking are decidedly different, we seek the same place. For as long as our paths run close, I'll happily enjoy her company and insights.
Written By Eirene
Feb. 8, 2017, 12:21 p.m.(11/18/1005 AR)
I made up with a friend in the temple of Lagoma - seeing as she's the one who we honor for change and growth for the better, it seemed oddly appropriate.
In other news, I have friends and know when to say I'm sorry for being a dick. Even if I should have said it far sooner than I did.
In other news, I have friends and know when to say I'm sorry for being a dick. Even if I should have said it far sooner than I did.
Written By Marius
Feb. 8, 2017, 11:54 a.m.(11/18/1005 AR)
I've been back in Arx for just over a month, and had forgotten just how different it is from the Greenwood. Noise, noise, noise, everywhere noise! It's almost inescapable, even within the bounds of the Lodge. It's clattering, almost shattering in its intensity and pervasiveness. It threatens to overwhelm the heart...
...and, inexplicably, fills that same heart with energy. A different kind of energy than the Greenwood, mind, but no less vivifying.
The day-to-day matter of the family have been ably seen to by Uncle Muiryn, who proves himself more loyal a man than anyone has a right to expect. My family has welcomed Simone and me back to the city with warmth and a genuine sense of gladness. By the old ways, I have missed them all.
It's funny: I'd almost forgotten just how... different we Greenmarchers are from our fellow Valardin vassals. You lose that perspective when all around you are people like you - wildly passionate and never shy from expressing it - but I overheard someone remark they wished they'd brought us in years before my father swore. That's a compliment, in my mind.
So: I begin the task of reacquainting myself with Arx and her peoples, and forming new relationships. Something is happening out there in the wilds, to the land and the Abandoned. We will need all the strength we can muster to combat it; I know this to my very bones.
...and, inexplicably, fills that same heart with energy. A different kind of energy than the Greenwood, mind, but no less vivifying.
The day-to-day matter of the family have been ably seen to by Uncle Muiryn, who proves himself more loyal a man than anyone has a right to expect. My family has welcomed Simone and me back to the city with warmth and a genuine sense of gladness. By the old ways, I have missed them all.
It's funny: I'd almost forgotten just how... different we Greenmarchers are from our fellow Valardin vassals. You lose that perspective when all around you are people like you - wildly passionate and never shy from expressing it - but I overheard someone remark they wished they'd brought us in years before my father swore. That's a compliment, in my mind.
So: I begin the task of reacquainting myself with Arx and her peoples, and forming new relationships. Something is happening out there in the wilds, to the land and the Abandoned. We will need all the strength we can muster to combat it; I know this to my very bones.
Written By Merek
Feb. 8, 2017, 10:19 a.m.(11/18/1005 AR)
I don't know what to write about Meeka. She is the most curious woman I've ever met. She is not like most. She is quiet and reserved but often has a kind personality. She is from Lenosia, and born to parents who came there from Gemecitta. She has decided to pledge her sword to me, and has said she will fight for me. While I'm not a noble, I don't mind it much. I put in to have her geared up. She has stated it is a sense of duty which she owes to House Black. She thinks I come from a family that used to be called a noble house. I'm not sure what to think about that. But it matters quite little as I like being the simple smith I am.
Written By Silas
Feb. 8, 2017, 9:06 a.m.(11/18/1005 AR)
Relationship Note on Ainsley
He was my superior not too long ago, and now I'm his boss. In part because of his recommendation.
So I repay his kindness with mountains of paperwork and always stealing victory right from under him when we spar at the Training Center. That is, if he's not using that shiny alaricite blade of his. Then it hurts. It hurts -a lot-.
There is a strategy behind my treatment of him, though, and I suspect he might know what it is...
So I repay his kindness with mountains of paperwork and always stealing victory right from under him when we spar at the Training Center. That is, if he's not using that shiny alaricite blade of his. Then it hurts. It hurts -a lot-.
There is a strategy behind my treatment of him, though, and I suspect he might know what it is...
Written By Felix
Feb. 8, 2017, 1:49 a.m.(11/17/1005 AR)
Relationship Note on Tomwell
He really knows how to play that violin of his. Looks hard to learn. Seems like a fun sort, though, Lord Leary.
Please note that the scholars may take some time preparing your journal for others to read.