Written By Amari
June 5, 2022, 9:08 a.m.(10/10/1017 AR)
Maybe the true reward was the friends I made along the way.
See? I've written the moral of the story at the beginning. Read no further. The rest will just be me ruminating on the failure of my efforts. Failure being a somewhat harsh way to sum up the results, admittedly. I did help quite a few people resolve their arguments before they turned into violent confrontations. That's a win. I don't believe I caused any argument to worsen either... but it was a close thing in some of the cases.
I've learned that to keep the peace, you do not steal another man's cow under any circumstances. It's not worth the heartache for all involved (including the cow's). Chicken wrangling? Also a very good way to cause bloodshed. Robbing a lady of her finest crockery after promising to marry, also not conducive to peaceful relations between her kin and yours. Oh, and don't dare poach deer or grouse from woods claimed by another, nor let your sheep graze in unfamiliar pastures. Also don't dare have the gall to charge a toll on a bridge you didn't erect either.
For gods sake, most of all, keep your word. If everyone did that alone, so much trouble would be avoided and you'd have nearly no need for lawyers like me nor have to suffer my well-intentioned meddling.
See? I've written the moral of the story at the beginning. Read no further. The rest will just be me ruminating on the failure of my efforts. Failure being a somewhat harsh way to sum up the results, admittedly. I did help quite a few people resolve their arguments before they turned into violent confrontations. That's a win. I don't believe I caused any argument to worsen either... but it was a close thing in some of the cases.
I've learned that to keep the peace, you do not steal another man's cow under any circumstances. It's not worth the heartache for all involved (including the cow's). Chicken wrangling? Also a very good way to cause bloodshed. Robbing a lady of her finest crockery after promising to marry, also not conducive to peaceful relations between her kin and yours. Oh, and don't dare poach deer or grouse from woods claimed by another, nor let your sheep graze in unfamiliar pastures. Also don't dare have the gall to charge a toll on a bridge you didn't erect either.
For gods sake, most of all, keep your word. If everyone did that alone, so much trouble would be avoided and you'd have nearly no need for lawyers like me nor have to suffer my well-intentioned meddling.
Written By Celine
June 5, 2022, 2:58 a.m.(10/9/1017 AR)
Autumn. My favourite season of the year. A gentle, mellow season when what we lose in flowers we gain in fruit. I rode Grace through the forest to Petrichor's Lodge, and the ripeness of the air and the crispness of leaves underfoot soothed the agitation that's been gnawing at my thoughts. I spent the afternoon helping to collect windfalls from beneath the orchard trees, and after a picnic we lay on our backs and watched honking geese migrate for southern warmth. Arrows of white on a perfect blue sky. I've been promised cider from the spoils of the day.
Written By Raja
June 4, 2022, 6:39 p.m.(10/9/1017 AR)
People of the Lowers often get looked down upon. They get underestimated and waved off. However, in my experience, it is those who are the lowest that are the most resourceful. We face worse odds, yet still pull through. We don't have armies or fleets. But, we have each other. When we come together, we are a force to be reckoned with.
Written By Tesha
June 4, 2022, 3:46 p.m.(10/8/1017 AR)
Relationship Note on Seth
Cale has grown from the lanky puppy that used to follow you around to a very handsome hound. I wish you were here to see him.
Written By Sydney
June 4, 2022, 12:21 p.m.(10/8/1017 AR)
I've lapsed in writing in this journal as often as I once did. Perhaps I have less to say now than I once did, or perhaps I simply hold myself to a standard that I don't know how to achieve.
My mother taught me letters, and it is by her legacy that my handwriting holds this flourish that I am so frequently told ill suits my person. In spite of this, the one thing that she does not seem to have left me is any entries of her own - as such, I find myself imagining every sort of profundity that might have flown forth from her pen, and hold up my own to a standard that is as unreachable as it is intangible. Rest assured that I'm no fool. I know that my demeanor comes across quite differently when I have time to put my thoughts to paper, and I know that elegance is something that will never truly be associated with me. I have no interest in improving this facet of my behavior merely for the perceptions of the narrow-minded.
Shall I write again of the fruitlessness of war? Shall I write again of the improvements we might find within our own city before expanding out into the world? Shall I write forlornly of loves experienced, loves lost, and the passage of time?
Shall I play to what you, who read this, thinks of me, and stain the pages with whiskey and curses?
Seemingly not. I'll gaze inward, and find something of consequence to write the next time.
Something like She would have written.
I'm sure of it.
My mother taught me letters, and it is by her legacy that my handwriting holds this flourish that I am so frequently told ill suits my person. In spite of this, the one thing that she does not seem to have left me is any entries of her own - as such, I find myself imagining every sort of profundity that might have flown forth from her pen, and hold up my own to a standard that is as unreachable as it is intangible. Rest assured that I'm no fool. I know that my demeanor comes across quite differently when I have time to put my thoughts to paper, and I know that elegance is something that will never truly be associated with me. I have no interest in improving this facet of my behavior merely for the perceptions of the narrow-minded.
Shall I write again of the fruitlessness of war? Shall I write again of the improvements we might find within our own city before expanding out into the world? Shall I write forlornly of loves experienced, loves lost, and the passage of time?
Shall I play to what you, who read this, thinks of me, and stain the pages with whiskey and curses?
Seemingly not. I'll gaze inward, and find something of consequence to write the next time.
Something like She would have written.
I'm sure of it.
Written By Haakon
June 4, 2022, 12:17 p.m.(10/8/1017 AR)
Eswynd has obeyed the Prince of Maelstrom.
Seven year past, he ordered that there be no more thralls in loyal domains, by now. I disagreed with him then, and I disagree with the decision now. As the Tyde said: thralldom was never the true problem; cruelty is. Just lords governed their thralls fairly, and cruel lords still abuse their free serfs, but it is done. There are no more thralls on Eswynd Rock.
It has cost the Isles dear, and will cost us all much more ere the current ire is spent.
There is much more to the Isles Kinstrife than thralldom alone, but it is plain truth that no other single event or decision was as great a turning point in the rise of Ivanites as that.
The great irony, and I know it would sicken him to hear it, is that Anders Fucking Nightcove and I have so bloody much in common. Apart from the difference of opinion as to whether prodigals deserve to continue living and what loyalty looks like (no small points of contention, I admit) we agree on most questions. Religion, rule of law, and the natural order of the world have changed too much, too quickly to sustain without catastrophe.
The man may be the bastard offspring conceived by Creation's sum regrets in an orgy with hypocrisy, the unwashed taint of a sea ogre, and held together in a skin formed of the hides of a thousand bilge rats; he may be the physical incarnation of shoes that don't quite fit and leave you with an irate blister, but Anders Fucking Nightcove is a skilled reaver who challenged forces for beyond his own and accomplished much of his goals at great cost, to weaken hated foes in order that another might have the chance to stand victorious in the end.
When he is ended and reincarnates as the worm in the guts of a dripping donkey who had dined ten day on naught but bile and another donkey's shit, his soul will at least have the memory of that skill and conviction.
Seven year past, he ordered that there be no more thralls in loyal domains, by now. I disagreed with him then, and I disagree with the decision now. As the Tyde said: thralldom was never the true problem; cruelty is. Just lords governed their thralls fairly, and cruel lords still abuse their free serfs, but it is done. There are no more thralls on Eswynd Rock.
It has cost the Isles dear, and will cost us all much more ere the current ire is spent.
There is much more to the Isles Kinstrife than thralldom alone, but it is plain truth that no other single event or decision was as great a turning point in the rise of Ivanites as that.
The great irony, and I know it would sicken him to hear it, is that Anders Fucking Nightcove and I have so bloody much in common. Apart from the difference of opinion as to whether prodigals deserve to continue living and what loyalty looks like (no small points of contention, I admit) we agree on most questions. Religion, rule of law, and the natural order of the world have changed too much, too quickly to sustain without catastrophe.
The man may be the bastard offspring conceived by Creation's sum regrets in an orgy with hypocrisy, the unwashed taint of a sea ogre, and held together in a skin formed of the hides of a thousand bilge rats; he may be the physical incarnation of shoes that don't quite fit and leave you with an irate blister, but Anders Fucking Nightcove is a skilled reaver who challenged forces for beyond his own and accomplished much of his goals at great cost, to weaken hated foes in order that another might have the chance to stand victorious in the end.
When he is ended and reincarnates as the worm in the guts of a dripping donkey who had dined ten day on naught but bile and another donkey's shit, his soul will at least have the memory of that skill and conviction.
Written By Kiera
June 4, 2022, 11:38 a.m.(10/8/1017 AR)
as drums of war sound not far off, i treasure all the more my momonts of peace and wonder why change must come with bloodshed
Written By Kiera
June 4, 2022, 11:35 a.m.(10/8/1017 AR)
Sometimes a scholars discoveries bring sadness. This does not mean they are unimportant. I am still grateful for moments of insight even the unpleasant ones
Written By Kiera
June 4, 2022, 11:25 a.m.(10/8/1017 AR)
Relationship Note on Reigna
I wish I had gotten to know you better. I fear my brothers and I gave you know shortage of headaces, yet you were never less than kind to me and always offered aid when I came seeking. You will be missed
Written By Ailys
June 3, 2022, 10:39 p.m.(10/7/1017 AR)
I did some teaching, for the first time. I think it went well.
Written By Teague
June 3, 2022, 10:03 p.m.(10/7/1017 AR)
Relationship Note on Lou
She runs a good meeting. Looking forward to working with her on this project and with the society. Much to get ready for in the next few months.
Written By Raven
June 3, 2022, 7:13 p.m.(10/7/1017 AR)
Blood on my hands
And the moonlit sand
I'd die just to keep them
It's gonna bury me
Broke in the night
In the colorless light
And the cold of an empty bottle
A woman can't run
From the things she's done
When the weight's got her on her knees
Time don't know where the river flows
But I pray it's out to sea
It's gonna bury me.
Written By Zakhar
June 3, 2022, 5:48 p.m.(10/6/1017 AR)
(A small disorientated cock with bell found outside the building cooing at anyone that would pass it by, with a small note curled under bell.)
Reads:
I finished it! Taller than a building too!
Now to just get the kits from climbing on it.
Reads:
I finished it! Taller than a building too!
Now to just get the kits from climbing on it.
Written By Savio
June 3, 2022, 5:45 p.m.(10/6/1017 AR)
Relationship Note on Desiree
Some like cockerels, some like hens
Some count both among their friends
For you, you like a juicy breast
For me the jaunty cock is best
Both have their pleasures, without doubt --
Oh wait, what are we talking about?
Some count both among their friends
For you, you like a juicy breast
For me the jaunty cock is best
Both have their pleasures, without doubt --
Oh wait, what are we talking about?
Written By Aethan
June 3, 2022, 2:38 p.m.(10/6/1017 AR)
My brain wasn't made for doing a steady stream of alliteration. I have something of a headache now. On a more humorous note (at least humorous to myself), I should use alliterative sentences to Ian. It might be fun to see what the response might be.
Written By Mattheu
June 3, 2022, 2:23 p.m.(10/6/1017 AR)
A small dance with only mismatched bells for music. This is probably the best dance once can ever have. Slow and steady, a wobble from foot to foot upon an open air balcony overlooking the city, and giving a view of beauty and warmth while the air cools itself in passing.
Conversations are light, whispered, chase.
A day of many to be happy to have had chance to share.
Conversations are light, whispered, chase.
A day of many to be happy to have had chance to share.
Written By Thalamina
June 3, 2022, 10:35 a.m.(10/6/1017 AR)
The shift of weather is a welcome one and provides the crisp refresher one needs after a training bout. But, it also reminds me of baked goods. Train for readiness or consume an entire pie? Maybe both?
Probably both.
Probably both.
Written By Triton
June 3, 2022, 9:16 a.m.(10/6/1017 AR)
Elora joined Explorers this wekk, opening some possibilities for the future travel ideas. She continues to train the dog, Stray, and to teach me how to do the training as well. No luck on the ship yet, but I continue to look. I am sure there will be the one in time. We are still figuring out the vatious implications of what we learned investigating the Mercier family's tragic massacre--more to follow on that.
Written By Mabelle
June 3, 2022, 6:21 a.m.(10/6/1017 AR)
While I do adore Autumn, why does it feel like the passing summer was particularly brief?
Written By Catalana
June 3, 2022, 5:29 a.m.(10/5/1017 AR)
There has always been fighting and uprisings in the Mourning isles.
Since I was a child all I have heard was about the wars we fight and how we do it to hold our traditions dear, yet now we fight for progress and change. I am proud of all my house has accomplished and how strong we have stood against those who try to stop the tides of change.
But I do find myself wondering, if all I have ever known is fighting and uprisings, is that now a tradition for my people? Will my children ever get to breathe easy and know those they loved are always safe?
Since I was a child all I have heard was about the wars we fight and how we do it to hold our traditions dear, yet now we fight for progress and change. I am proud of all my house has accomplished and how strong we have stood against those who try to stop the tides of change.
But I do find myself wondering, if all I have ever known is fighting and uprisings, is that now a tradition for my people? Will my children ever get to breathe easy and know those they loved are always safe?
Please note that the scholars may take some time preparing your journal for others to read.