Written By Haakon
June 24, 2022, 7:15 p.m.(11/21/1017 AR)
More blood and smoke than expected.
I can't fault the foe for resolve: I'd burn the world down afore letting them have it, too.
And Crownlanders: start writing it into your marriage contracts that you need not fight beside another house when they're engaged in open treason.
That were a bitter fucking fruit to swallow: after the mainland has been screeching at us to end thralldom for so long, there are their banners flying alongside the very fuckers fighting to keep it.
This were never going to be a war ended quick. But damnation if it won't take even longer than expected.
I've no fucking time to speak in rhyme, I need a bloody drink.
I can't fault the foe for resolve: I'd burn the world down afore letting them have it, too.
And Crownlanders: start writing it into your marriage contracts that you need not fight beside another house when they're engaged in open treason.
That were a bitter fucking fruit to swallow: after the mainland has been screeching at us to end thralldom for so long, there are their banners flying alongside the very fuckers fighting to keep it.
This were never going to be a war ended quick. But damnation if it won't take even longer than expected.
I've no fucking time to speak in rhyme, I need a bloody drink.
Written By Haakon
June 22, 2022, 8:37 p.m.(11/17/1017 AR)
The storm seven years in growing
With one murder all oaths broke.
Now to battle all ships rowing,
War begun in blood and smoke.
What lay ahead there were no knowing:
Victory, death, or famine's yoke.
"Our wrath unto thy crimes owing,"
So the Lords of Mourning spoke
With one murder all oaths broke.
Now to battle all ships rowing,
War begun in blood and smoke.
What lay ahead there were no knowing:
Victory, death, or famine's yoke.
"Our wrath unto thy crimes owing,"
So the Lords of Mourning spoke
Written By Haakon
June 19, 2022, 1:25 p.m.(11/10/1017 AR)
One day in the autumn of Seventeen
When enough of faith the traitors had all seen
They mustered all their balls, banners they all called,
And unto them, so the Eswynds spoke:
Oh, we'll meet you in battle and gut you by raid
We'll burn down your halls to see Margot repaid!
For a thousand years, we've fought you without fear
And we'll fight you for a thousand more.
--
For folk who claim to love the Mourning Seas
They damn sure haven't read their histories
Or else too well they'd know, how it always goes
When Eswynd Rock the Arvani try to hold.
Oh, we'll meet you in battle and gut you by raid
We'll burn down your halls to see Margot repaid!
For a thousand years, we've fought you without fear
And we'll fight you for a thousand more.
--
Every mighty Prince and hero of the crown
Even they all failed to keep us down
So what chance have this lot, of sorry bleeders got
To change the fates of them who went before?
Oh, we'll meet you in battle and gut you by raid
We'll burn down your halls to see Margot repaid!
For a thousand years, we've fought you without fear
And we'll fight you for a thousand more.
--
Prince William and Draven and Darius all
In their time sought Eswynd Rock's fall
They sent fleets and demands, yet Eswynd still stands
And yon princes are mouldering in the ground.
Oh, we'll meet you in battle and gut you by raid
We'll burn down your halls to see Margot repaid!
For a thousand years, we've fought you without fear
And we'll fight you for a thousand more.
--
So, Grimkin can get stuck in and Bloodbrook will fall!
Greywalke on the chop block, and next come Dredcall!
Every wife of Windsheer will know widow's fear!
Highwater will falter and let Navegant hear:
That little worm Turo can roast in his shell!
Seabright and Dagon can all go to Hell!
We'll plant all your corpses and grow Traitor's Grove,
Your names all forgot, but FUCK ANDERS NIGHTCOVE.
--
So go on home, or bloody lackwits before long
Your house will only live on in this song!
For despite the blood you spend, you'll still meet your end
Bound up on a cross along our shore.
Oh, we'll meet you in battle and gut you by raid
We'll burn down your halls to see Margot repaid!
For a thousand years, we've fought you without fear
And we'll fight you for a thousand more.
When enough of faith the traitors had all seen
They mustered all their balls, banners they all called,
And unto them, so the Eswynds spoke:
Oh, we'll meet you in battle and gut you by raid
We'll burn down your halls to see Margot repaid!
For a thousand years, we've fought you without fear
And we'll fight you for a thousand more.
--
For folk who claim to love the Mourning Seas
They damn sure haven't read their histories
Or else too well they'd know, how it always goes
When Eswynd Rock the Arvani try to hold.
Oh, we'll meet you in battle and gut you by raid
We'll burn down your halls to see Margot repaid!
For a thousand years, we've fought you without fear
And we'll fight you for a thousand more.
--
Every mighty Prince and hero of the crown
Even they all failed to keep us down
So what chance have this lot, of sorry bleeders got
To change the fates of them who went before?
Oh, we'll meet you in battle and gut you by raid
We'll burn down your halls to see Margot repaid!
For a thousand years, we've fought you without fear
And we'll fight you for a thousand more.
--
Prince William and Draven and Darius all
In their time sought Eswynd Rock's fall
They sent fleets and demands, yet Eswynd still stands
And yon princes are mouldering in the ground.
Oh, we'll meet you in battle and gut you by raid
We'll burn down your halls to see Margot repaid!
For a thousand years, we've fought you without fear
And we'll fight you for a thousand more.
--
So, Grimkin can get stuck in and Bloodbrook will fall!
Greywalke on the chop block, and next come Dredcall!
Every wife of Windsheer will know widow's fear!
Highwater will falter and let Navegant hear:
That little worm Turo can roast in his shell!
Seabright and Dagon can all go to Hell!
We'll plant all your corpses and grow Traitor's Grove,
Your names all forgot, but FUCK ANDERS NIGHTCOVE.
--
So go on home, or bloody lackwits before long
Your house will only live on in this song!
For despite the blood you spend, you'll still meet your end
Bound up on a cross along our shore.
Oh, we'll meet you in battle and gut you by raid
We'll burn down your halls to see Margot repaid!
For a thousand years, we've fought you without fear
And we'll fight you for a thousand more.
Written By Haakon
June 14, 2022, 11:10 p.m.(11/1/1017 AR)
A great service has been done for the lackwits of Arvum: no matter how hypocritical, hateful, bigoted, and blind they may be..
At least they're not Anders Nightcove.
He deserves high regard for being such a waste of air and skin that every other screaming moron under the Sky looks better for comparison to that bad idea with a face.
I hope that whichever walrus got so drunk as to fuck a bilge rat and birth Anders Nightcove is still suffering.
At least they're not Anders Nightcove.
He deserves high regard for being such a waste of air and skin that every other screaming moron under the Sky looks better for comparison to that bad idea with a face.
I hope that whichever walrus got so drunk as to fuck a bilge rat and birth Anders Nightcove is still suffering.
Written By Haakon
June 12, 2022, 12:06 p.m.(10/24/1017 AR)
I won't be wagering on the length of the next Assembly of Peers, though I will say that seating in the Thrax benches ought be very colorful.
Written By Haakon
June 7, 2022, 11:19 p.m.(10/15/1017 AR)
I cannot see pineapples as food. Any who say otherwise must be mad, or driven to the very edge of madness, probably by Savio.
It's a great lump of spikes and spines, it's the sort of thing that ought be shoved whole up Anders Nightcove's ass, not eaten.
It's a great lump of spikes and spines, it's the sort of thing that ought be shoved whole up Anders Nightcove's ass, not eaten.
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 Haakon
June 1, 2022, 12:25 p.m.(10/2/1017 AR)
I’m a reaver, not a soldier.
In this last campaign, Anders Nightcove was reaving, not invading. His goal was not to conquer, but to prepare us for the invasion to follow. Attacking granaries and watchtowers, undercutting the ability of marked houses to spot future attacks coming and to withstand sieges. It cost him dear in men and ships and it will cost his house more, still, but that was his object.
Let every loyal house in the isles prepare against what is to follow, for Anders Nightcove may be a slime-guzzling pisspot of an urchin-fucking Arvani shitstain, who lost his sword and shield in his haste to flee from me; he may be a pox-ridden goat from a doomed line of diseased lackwits; he may be a man-shaped sack of bile, vomit, and failure; he may lack the wits to be found in the rancid guts of a month-rotten whale; he may be a festering boil on the ass of Arvani civilization, and he may be more blind than a drunken Lycene with their helm on backwards..
But he is no fool.
In this last campaign, Anders Nightcove was reaving, not invading. His goal was not to conquer, but to prepare us for the invasion to follow. Attacking granaries and watchtowers, undercutting the ability of marked houses to spot future attacks coming and to withstand sieges. It cost him dear in men and ships and it will cost his house more, still, but that was his object.
Let every loyal house in the isles prepare against what is to follow, for Anders Nightcove may be a slime-guzzling pisspot of an urchin-fucking Arvani shitstain, who lost his sword and shield in his haste to flee from me; he may be a pox-ridden goat from a doomed line of diseased lackwits; he may be a man-shaped sack of bile, vomit, and failure; he may lack the wits to be found in the rancid guts of a month-rotten whale; he may be a festering boil on the ass of Arvani civilization, and he may be more blind than a drunken Lycene with their helm on backwards..
But he is no fool.
Written By Haakon
May 29, 2022, 12:56 a.m.(9/23/1017 AR)
When the looming storm at long last broke
And Kinstrife claimed we Isles folk
The Thrax unto his swords so spoke:
"We'll make their widows mourn.
For we are heirs of the Mourning Sea,
The hard old ways we'll share with thee.
For House and kin we war and reave,
We are to battle born."
The tides will rise and the tides will fall,
Old ways are kept in proud grim halls,
With new winds at our backs, stand tall
To greet the rising morn.
For we are heirs of the Mourning Sea,
The hard old ways we'll share with thee.
For House and kin we war and reave,
We are to battle born.
Although it were a strife unsought
And sons against their fathers fought,
For grief of men, the Wind cares not,
We’ll never be forsworn.
For we are heirs of the Mourning Sea,
The hard old ways we'll share with thee.
For House and kin we war and reave,
We are to battle born.
All those who rose with rebel hearts
Did call on vassals to do their parts.
They’d well trade in the warrior’s arts,
Once damned and thrice scorned.
For we are heirs of the Mourning Sea,
The hard old ways we'll share with thee.
For House and kin we war and reave,
We are to battle born.
Yon fools cry for the bad old days,
Thinking that we forgot our ways.
Their pride will bleed and coasts will blaze
When sound the reaving horns.
For we are heirs of the Mourning Sea,
The hard old ways we'll share with thee.
For House and kin we war and reave,
We are to battle born.
Come throngs! Come beasts! We never yield.
To fight until death’s rest we’re steeled.
Bear me to the grave upon my shield
Weep not nor be forlorn.
For we are heirs of the Mourning Sea,
The hard old ways we'll share with thee.
For House and kin we war and reave,
We are to battle born.
And Kinstrife claimed we Isles folk
The Thrax unto his swords so spoke:
"We'll make their widows mourn.
For we are heirs of the Mourning Sea,
The hard old ways we'll share with thee.
For House and kin we war and reave,
We are to battle born."
The tides will rise and the tides will fall,
Old ways are kept in proud grim halls,
With new winds at our backs, stand tall
To greet the rising morn.
For we are heirs of the Mourning Sea,
The hard old ways we'll share with thee.
For House and kin we war and reave,
We are to battle born.
Although it were a strife unsought
And sons against their fathers fought,
For grief of men, the Wind cares not,
We’ll never be forsworn.
For we are heirs of the Mourning Sea,
The hard old ways we'll share with thee.
For House and kin we war and reave,
We are to battle born.
All those who rose with rebel hearts
Did call on vassals to do their parts.
They’d well trade in the warrior’s arts,
Once damned and thrice scorned.
For we are heirs of the Mourning Sea,
The hard old ways we'll share with thee.
For House and kin we war and reave,
We are to battle born.
Yon fools cry for the bad old days,
Thinking that we forgot our ways.
Their pride will bleed and coasts will blaze
When sound the reaving horns.
For we are heirs of the Mourning Sea,
The hard old ways we'll share with thee.
For House and kin we war and reave,
We are to battle born.
Come throngs! Come beasts! We never yield.
To fight until death’s rest we’re steeled.
Bear me to the grave upon my shield
Weep not nor be forlorn.
For we are heirs of the Mourning Sea,
The hard old ways we'll share with thee.
For House and kin we war and reave,
We are to battle born.
Written By Haakon
May 28, 2022, 2:53 p.m.(9/22/1017 AR)
Before coming to Arx, I had thought that "Oathlanders" were all the folk of the Compact. All who had taken an Oath to the King in Arx. Just as I thought Crownlanders meant the same thing. Two different names for the same folk. First time some body told me they were two different nations within the Compact, I didn't believe them.
It's an easy thing for folk to forget just how bloody big Arvum is.
It's an easy thing for folk to forget just how bloody big Arvum is.
Written By Haakon
May 22, 2022, 10:21 p.m.(9/11/1017 AR)
My wife and near-sister returned after a voyage, with news of a particular arrow shot and it's results.
Any folk who think I never laugh has not heard that story.
Any folk who think I never laugh has not heard that story.
Written By Haakon
May 21, 2022, 11:51 a.m.(9/8/1017 AR)
I know not whether it is kinder to hope that folk and ships vanish for common thievery and murder, than it is to hope some Ivanite lackwits are stirring up bloodshed.
In the former, it's death and doom we have grown used to and think of as normal. In the latter, the storm may finally break, which would feel a relief, though it mean the doom of many.
In the former, it's death and doom we have grown used to and think of as normal. In the latter, the storm may finally break, which would feel a relief, though it mean the doom of many.
Written By Haakon
May 14, 2022, 11:52 a.m.(8/22/1017 AR)
Relationship Note on Zoey
It's a bold thing to speak up against the course that more powerful folk are fixed upon.
I haven't a gift for obedience, and though I still disagree with her point, it were well spoken, and the speaker worth respect.
Sea and Sky strike me down if I lie: most would hold their tongues if the Redreef, a gaggle of Thraxes, and me were set to kill a man.
I haven't a gift for obedience, and though I still disagree with her point, it were well spoken, and the speaker worth respect.
Sea and Sky strike me down if I lie: most would hold their tongues if the Redreef, a gaggle of Thraxes, and me were set to kill a man.
Written By Haakon
May 8, 2022, 10:33 a.m.(8/10/1017 AR)
One of the Thrax princesses wishes a song writ. A shanty, as the Arvani call them, but among Eswynders we call such songs a cadence.
Same thing, for the most part: both songs for keeping time, whether hauling on lines, or hauling on oars, while bored out of the skull. Much repetition in such things. A verse sung by one, a chorus sung by all, another verse, oft sung by another. I've seen it done where folk at the oars came up with verses in the moment, with only the time needed for the chorus to compose their next rhyme.
Most of such rhymes were weak, but the Wind cares not: done in the moment, any rhyme will serve.
Same thing, for the most part: both songs for keeping time, whether hauling on lines, or hauling on oars, while bored out of the skull. Much repetition in such things. A verse sung by one, a chorus sung by all, another verse, oft sung by another. I've seen it done where folk at the oars came up with verses in the moment, with only the time needed for the chorus to compose their next rhyme.
Most of such rhymes were weak, but the Wind cares not: done in the moment, any rhyme will serve.
Written By Haakon
May 7, 2022, 12:09 p.m.(8/8/1017 AR)
Sea and Sky strike me down if I lie: it seems plain speech is a rare skill in Arx.
Written By Haakon
April 22, 2022, 11:44 a.m.(7/6/1017 AR)
Towers are pig shit.
A pox on their invention, and three curses on the fate that makes storming one a necessity.
A pox on their invention, and three curses on the fate that makes storming one a necessity.
Written By Haakon
April 17, 2022, 4:35 p.m.(6/24/1017 AR)
If there's one merit to waiting so long for the coming storm to break, it's that we've so damnably much time to prepare. The shipyards and smithies of the home island have never been so stocked and active, not in living memory.
The Compact drives me mad more days than not, but there's no denying the great boon of wealth our loyalty has brought; timber, iron, grain, and silver have never been more plentiful.
Mayhap the coming Kinstrife will wipe it all away, as the coming and going of tides scours the shore, or mayhap our prosperity will endure for generations to come, the Wind cares not.
The Compact drives me mad more days than not, but there's no denying the great boon of wealth our loyalty has brought; timber, iron, grain, and silver have never been more plentiful.
Mayhap the coming Kinstrife will wipe it all away, as the coming and going of tides scours the shore, or mayhap our prosperity will endure for generations to come, the Wind cares not.
Written By Haakon
April 10, 2022, 9:11 p.m.(6/11/1017 AR)
Damnation, but some of the folk least skilled in killing are the most stubborn in pursuing it.
Written By Haakon
April 9, 2022, 11:46 a.m.(6/8/1017 AR)
To be clever in battle can be a great gamble.
When it pays off, correct anticipation can cut off a foe's best surprise, deny him escape, and utterly unmake his strategies.
When it doesn't...
Well, when it doesn't you end up floating off the backside of an island, looking for ships that aren't there while your fellows charge in for all the glory, and wondering to yourself whether you're overestimating your foes, or just being daft and calling yourself clever.
When it pays off, correct anticipation can cut off a foe's best surprise, deny him escape, and utterly unmake his strategies.
When it doesn't...
Well, when it doesn't you end up floating off the backside of an island, looking for ships that aren't there while your fellows charge in for all the glory, and wondering to yourself whether you're overestimating your foes, or just being daft and calling yourself clever.
Written By Haakon
April 3, 2022, 8:07 p.m.(5/25/1017 AR)
An honest enemy is much to be desired.
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