Written By Silas
Nov. 19, 2016, 5:45 a.m.(2/27/1005 AR)
So many things to do, yet there are only so many hours in the day...
Written By Donella
Nov. 19, 2016, 12:46 a.m.(2/27/1005 AR)
Did you think me your enemy all along, when I only ever adored you? You alone, who could understand me? You had everything I wanted... And now I will never be able to show you what was in my heart, nor to tell you that I would have taken nothing away from you. You've ruined everything! I do not know how to purge this ache in my heart, but I cannot even shed tears.
Written By Aislin
Nov. 18, 2016, 10:06 p.m.(2/26/1005 AR)
And so the doors are thrown open, secret histories and hidden villains tossed out into the streets for all to see.
It's a relief, in many ways.
Those of us who have been out in the wilds, those of us who have traveled the less-settled parts of Arvum, we've long known that there was more to the world than most would believe. Or even more than most would want to hear; such things are often dismissed as stories, myths.
But the facts of our history are out there to be found. Carved into the walls of ancient ruined fortresses, written into the surviving scraps of ancient journals. Records of ancient betrayals and alliances. Hints of wars fought with things greater than any weapon we could now forge.
How much have we forgotten? How much have we lost?
Those questions are no small part of what has always driven me on my expeditions into the wilds.
I want so badly to believe that the darkness responsible cannot survive out in the open, now that the secrets are exposed. That the architects of so much pain will be unmasked and brought to justice for their crimes.
But perhaps most of all, I want the chance to piece the lost and scattered fragments of our history -- our true history -- back together again.
And gods willing, we're taking the first steps on that road.
It's a relief, in many ways.
Those of us who have been out in the wilds, those of us who have traveled the less-settled parts of Arvum, we've long known that there was more to the world than most would believe. Or even more than most would want to hear; such things are often dismissed as stories, myths.
But the facts of our history are out there to be found. Carved into the walls of ancient ruined fortresses, written into the surviving scraps of ancient journals. Records of ancient betrayals and alliances. Hints of wars fought with things greater than any weapon we could now forge.
How much have we forgotten? How much have we lost?
Those questions are no small part of what has always driven me on my expeditions into the wilds.
I want so badly to believe that the darkness responsible cannot survive out in the open, now that the secrets are exposed. That the architects of so much pain will be unmasked and brought to justice for their crimes.
But perhaps most of all, I want the chance to piece the lost and scattered fragments of our history -- our true history -- back together again.
And gods willing, we're taking the first steps on that road.
Written By Morrighan
Nov. 18, 2016, 7:37 p.m.(2/26/1005 AR)
I was introduced to this thing called a pastry. It had some spicy element to it, but was very sweet. Does not blend well with whiskey. Whiskey and coffee, however - well, that's a different story. That combination is marvelous. I was also asked if I ate whiskey in addition to drinking it. If only I could Joscelin, if only I could.
Written By Joscelin
Nov. 18, 2016, 5:45 p.m.(2/26/1005 AR)
Hypothetically, a Guild could, if they had their hands in the trading contacts, pacts, agreements, etc., be the best ones to begin the process of storing food and supplies.
Hypothetically, they'd already be working on it.
Hypothetically.
Hypothetically, they'd already be working on it.
Hypothetically.
Written By Ianthe
Nov. 18, 2016, 5:40 p.m.(2/26/1005 AR)
*Mistress Artusio spends a solid few minutes laughing.*
Fucking artists. More drama there than you will find on any stage. I’m convinced that being able to create beauty comes with a specific type of temperament.
This is why I turned Josie down when she asked me to be her Voice.
Also, I hate responsibility.
But wanting to keep my sanity was definitely ranked up there in the reasons to decline.
Fucking artists. More drama there than you will find on any stage. I’m convinced that being able to create beauty comes with a specific type of temperament.
This is why I turned Josie down when she asked me to be her Voice.
Also, I hate responsibility.
But wanting to keep my sanity was definitely ranked up there in the reasons to decline.
Written By Eleyna
Nov. 18, 2016, 5:26 p.m.(2/26/1005 AR)
Growing up, I was a shy, reserved child, made so by the premature death of my mother and the neglect of my father, which left my upbringing in the hands of servants, tutors, and the periods of affection I would reserve from members of the extended family. Because I was quiet and often unnoticed, I learned to watch, to look for patterns in the way people conduct themselves. As I grew older, I learned further how to spot times when this varies.
It was a useful skill as a child and became even more valuable as an adult.
Now, I turn my observations on the world around, made different over night by the realization that the tales and stories of the past weren’t just fanciful re-telling of mundane events but they carried truth. Here is what I see:
Systematically, nearly every mature leader of the Houses of Compact has been eliminated. House Velenosa, House Valardin, and House Redrain are led by young leaders who aren’t as tested as their elders were. Even in the minor Houses, there seem to be more young leaders than old. The King sleeps and Lady Dawn is now Regent. Instability is sewn into the very Houses of the Compact .
Messengers dead. Ships disappeared. Communication is being cut off, but, if you think of this as a war, so are supply lines. We must remember what Arx was, why this city was built. It was created to withstand a siege. I promise that our enemies have not forgotten the city’s purpose. What would they not do to undermine it?
I see our leaders thinking in terms of soldiers, but an army lives on communication and on its belly. We court defeat if we forget the practical matters in favor of the martial.
It was a useful skill as a child and became even more valuable as an adult.
Now, I turn my observations on the world around, made different over night by the realization that the tales and stories of the past weren’t just fanciful re-telling of mundane events but they carried truth. Here is what I see:
Systematically, nearly every mature leader of the Houses of Compact has been eliminated. House Velenosa, House Valardin, and House Redrain are led by young leaders who aren’t as tested as their elders were. Even in the minor Houses, there seem to be more young leaders than old. The King sleeps and Lady Dawn is now Regent. Instability is sewn into the very Houses of the Compact .
Messengers dead. Ships disappeared. Communication is being cut off, but, if you think of this as a war, so are supply lines. We must remember what Arx was, why this city was built. It was created to withstand a siege. I promise that our enemies have not forgotten the city’s purpose. What would they not do to undermine it?
I see our leaders thinking in terms of soldiers, but an army lives on communication and on its belly. We court defeat if we forget the practical matters in favor of the martial.
Written By Sabella
Nov. 18, 2016, 4:09 p.m.(2/25/1005 AR)
Relationship Note on Kima
When I first met Lady Kima, she did an amazing job at- (more elegantly described) implementing a phallus blockade. She also persuaded me to not get a weapon, and now I am more confused than ever! I wish her well on her morning after- regarding her aching head. Others might have been upset, but- I am gladdened to have met her. Perhaps we will meet again when she is in a less inebriated condition.
Written By Cara
Nov. 18, 2016, 3:47 p.m.(2/25/1005 AR)
Why does no one ever ask me to research something nice?
I could write a lovely paper on tea varietals.
I could write a lovely paper on tea varietals.
Written By Eirene
Nov. 18, 2016, 3:16 p.m.(2/25/1005 AR)
Relationship Note on Max
I know I'm told not to trust a Thraxian further than I can spit in their eye, but damn if I don't bond well with them. I guess they're all soldiers at heart even if some of 'em may dismiss me as a woman. (Not that the ones I've met have mind you).
He's seen his share of shit, the Count of Blackwater. And he's a sailor first and a noble second; gotta respect that. He's like a kindred spirit with really fucking good rum and an underlying feeling we're all screwed.
He's seen his share of shit, the Count of Blackwater. And he's a sailor first and a noble second; gotta respect that. He's like a kindred spirit with really fucking good rum and an underlying feeling we're all screwed.
Written By Max
Nov. 18, 2016, 3:09 p.m.(2/25/1005 AR)
I don't give in to fear.
I do not let my emotions show on my features.
I do not engage in panic or in useless flailing.
But if I was the kind of man to engage in such things?
If I were?
The concept of an enemy so powerful and so present, so well informed and well armed, that they could simultaneously kill almost every land based messenger, from trade caravan to single man running through the forests he knows like back of his own hand?
While concurrently sinking a half dozen ships, individually, on the high seas?
To do this and leave no witnesses, no obvious clues?
Well.
If I was a man given to fear.
I might be afraid.
I do not let my emotions show on my features.
I do not engage in panic or in useless flailing.
But if I was the kind of man to engage in such things?
If I were?
The concept of an enemy so powerful and so present, so well informed and well armed, that they could simultaneously kill almost every land based messenger, from trade caravan to single man running through the forests he knows like back of his own hand?
While concurrently sinking a half dozen ships, individually, on the high seas?
To do this and leave no witnesses, no obvious clues?
Well.
If I was a man given to fear.
I might be afraid.
Written By Gisele
Nov. 18, 2016, 2:55 p.m.(2/25/1005 AR)
Relationship Note on Donella
Her Highness Princess Donella, Voice of Thrax, is a generous woman with a great thirst for learning. Whether she becomes my patron or not I can be proud that my efforts to pair beauty with knowledge has found favor in her eyes.
Written By Gisele
Nov. 18, 2016, 2:53 p.m.(2/25/1005 AR)
Relationship Note on Benjamin
The barber surgeon is very driven and capable of extreme acts of charity. Even acts of kindness. But I wonder at Master Carver's interests and hobbies. Anyone who can grin and eagerly press on when faced with a pit full of rotting bodies has something questionable in their judgment.
Written By Cicero
Nov. 18, 2016, 12:21 p.m.(2/25/1005 AR)
Passing acquaintance
The work is ever present
The seat barely warmed
The work is ever present
The seat barely warmed
Written By Delia
Nov. 18, 2016, 11:31 a.m.(2/25/1005 AR)
Dearest Darling Journal,
I was gifted with the most amazing seasilk grown!
It is the most beautiful thing I have ever seen in my whole life... I am torn between wanting to wear it every second of every day to being terrified to so much as crease the soft fabric.
For now I shall just hang it in my room where I can see it and wait for the most perfect opportunity to show it off the public for the first time.
Oh.... and I learned that going down a hill in the snow sitting on a flimsy piece of wood can be delightful fun! Must try again!
I was gifted with the most amazing seasilk grown!
It is the most beautiful thing I have ever seen in my whole life... I am torn between wanting to wear it every second of every day to being terrified to so much as crease the soft fabric.
For now I shall just hang it in my room where I can see it and wait for the most perfect opportunity to show it off the public for the first time.
Oh.... and I learned that going down a hill in the snow sitting on a flimsy piece of wood can be delightful fun! Must try again!
Written By Cicero
Nov. 18, 2016, 11:25 a.m.(2/25/1005 AR)
Try a toboggan
Chilled by a rapid descent
Warmed by adventure
Chilled by a rapid descent
Warmed by adventure
Written By Dawn
Nov. 18, 2016, 11:10 a.m.(2/25/1005 AR)
Such a year as this has not been seen since the time of the Crownbreaker Wars, for tumultuous events. In a year, we have lost a Queen, three High Lords, the Lord Commander of the King's Own, countless members of the King's Own, messengers, scholars, sailors, and more. The King lies in his Rest without sign of waking, and the hope the people may have felt to have a Regent take the reins of the Compact has been balanced by this overt act of violence against our own on the roads of the kingdom; on the waters of our kingdom; in our very city of Arx.
What this tells me is that our enemies are afraid. We have learned some of the truths that were kept from us and sought to spread that knowledge. What those messengers carried was not only news of a newly elected Regent, but the knowledge of the Nox'alfar.
We have learned what they would have kept from us and because of that they push back, exacting a bloody price for our efforts.
That will not stand.
I write this to those who oppose us, those who lurk in the shadows and think that because you have operated in safety and secrecy for so long that we cannot touch you.
We know. We know you. We know what you have kept from us and we will continue to learn the rest. We see the world now and we will not return to ignorance. Nor will we tolerate your continued existence.
However pure your intentions when you began this enterprise, you have become one of the world's great evils. You have acted against our interests and killed those who were doing their sworn duty, those who are sacred in the eyes of our gods.
Your time has come. The Compact is united as it hasn't been before. We know you. We know your names. If you continue to act against us, or keep to your wicked shadows, we will cut you from our world like a cancer.
When you are gone, no one will mourn you. You will be reviled, as your deeds deserve.
Or, surrender yourself to our justice, confess, and you may yet receive mercy for your crimes. The choice is yours.
Either way, your time is done.
What this tells me is that our enemies are afraid. We have learned some of the truths that were kept from us and sought to spread that knowledge. What those messengers carried was not only news of a newly elected Regent, but the knowledge of the Nox'alfar.
We have learned what they would have kept from us and because of that they push back, exacting a bloody price for our efforts.
That will not stand.
I write this to those who oppose us, those who lurk in the shadows and think that because you have operated in safety and secrecy for so long that we cannot touch you.
We know. We know you. We know what you have kept from us and we will continue to learn the rest. We see the world now and we will not return to ignorance. Nor will we tolerate your continued existence.
However pure your intentions when you began this enterprise, you have become one of the world's great evils. You have acted against our interests and killed those who were doing their sworn duty, those who are sacred in the eyes of our gods.
Your time has come. The Compact is united as it hasn't been before. We know you. We know your names. If you continue to act against us, or keep to your wicked shadows, we will cut you from our world like a cancer.
When you are gone, no one will mourn you. You will be reviled, as your deeds deserve.
Or, surrender yourself to our justice, confess, and you may yet receive mercy for your crimes. The choice is yours.
Either way, your time is done.
Written By Samantha
Nov. 18, 2016, 10:42 a.m.(2/25/1005 AR)
It is never easy to explain to people how what happened to me as a child lives so presently in my mind. Duke Gabriel once told me this is something he has sometimes seen in his soldiers, especially after a particularly brutal encounter. Despite moving on with their lives, in some ways they are still on the battlefield.
I was witness to unspeakable carnage and utterly helpless at the time. To allow myself to be helpless again, even for something as potentially pleasurable as a beauty treatment, took far more than I think the other ladies realized, and it's not as if I would drag the party down by explaining myself.
The end result was entirely lovely, I don't remember my skin feeling so much like silk before. And I think, in the right environment, I'd do it again. But the fear is not entirely conquered.
I was witness to unspeakable carnage and utterly helpless at the time. To allow myself to be helpless again, even for something as potentially pleasurable as a beauty treatment, took far more than I think the other ladies realized, and it's not as if I would drag the party down by explaining myself.
The end result was entirely lovely, I don't remember my skin feeling so much like silk before. And I think, in the right environment, I'd do it again. But the fear is not entirely conquered.
Written By Ida
Nov. 18, 2016, 10:13 a.m.(2/25/1005 AR)
Master Fortunato had advertised about doing sketches, an offer I decided to request after. I asked for something with a weapon as the central figure. His niece, an aspiring (and clearly visionary) weaponsmith herself, came up with the story below, which I want to save here; I love it.
Ah, but to be able to craft a weapon of lore someday...
"Once upon a time, in a village near Southport, there was a diamondplate blade that only appeared in times of great need, monstrous need. Monsters, for example. It could only be wielded by the worthy, but, oh, when it was wielded, it was magnificent. It brought the barrage of wind and rain with it, it sucked the very air from the beasts' lungs. And one day, it may wake again."
The sketch is as stunning as the tale and now hangs in my shop, a fitting marriage of story and art.
Ah, but to be able to craft a weapon of lore someday...
"Once upon a time, in a village near Southport, there was a diamondplate blade that only appeared in times of great need, monstrous need. Monsters, for example. It could only be wielded by the worthy, but, oh, when it was wielded, it was magnificent. It brought the barrage of wind and rain with it, it sucked the very air from the beasts' lungs. And one day, it may wake again."
The sketch is as stunning as the tale and now hangs in my shop, a fitting marriage of story and art.
Written By Esera
Nov. 18, 2016, 8:27 a.m.(2/25/1005 AR)
You cannot die, you cannot sleep, you cannot wake anew. You are always You. Your shackles are infinity.
Please note that the scholars may take some time preparing your journal for others to read.