Written By Marius
April 7, 2018, 11:34 a.m.(7/5/1008 AR)
Relationship Note on Simone
You are my calming light. Always shine in the darkness.
Written By Marius
April 7, 2018, 11:20 a.m.(7/5/1008 AR)
I have settled back into the rhythm of the city after my return, if you can call the fact that I no longer find the never-ending noise of the inhabitants endearing settled. It is a cacophony of clamoring, a competition as to who and what can out-bellow everything else. The din of servants, the clang of arms practice, the distant hum of the population living their lives.
When in the Greenwood, I feel lost and out of the loop of the happenings in the Compact, guilty that I am not there to tend to anything that happens directly. Yet when I am in the city, all I want is to return to the slower pace and sounds of nature, and the calm life of Greenhaven.
I am a man with two homes that no longer fully belong in either.
When in the Greenwood, I feel lost and out of the loop of the happenings in the Compact, guilty that I am not there to tend to anything that happens directly. Yet when I am in the city, all I want is to return to the slower pace and sounds of nature, and the calm life of Greenhaven.
I am a man with two homes that no longer fully belong in either.
Written By Marius
Dec. 4, 2017, 11:41 p.m.(9/17/1007 AR)
Relationship Note on Alarissa
Takes a whole army indeed. Glad to have her as part of it.
Written By Marius
Nov. 27, 2017, 10:47 p.m.(9/3/1007 AR)
That's why we in Greenmarch are all sheepdogs, sister mine.
Written By Marius
Nov. 2, 2017, 11:36 a.m.(7/6/1007 AR)
I scored a 47 in the Gauntlet today. Princess Alarissa can vouch for it.
That's better than you, Lord Corban. I only mention it here because humility is a virtue and I want to help you develop it... since you have much about which to be humble.
Someone should invent a little picture a person could include at the end of a statement to let the reader know he's only jesting. I guess saying it outright will suffice - I'm only jesting, Lord Corban - but whoever's in charge of the scribes should set them to the task. This one just looked at me as if I'd suggested we should go eat some spiders.
That's better than you, Lord Corban. I only mention it here because humility is a virtue and I want to help you develop it... since you have much about which to be humble.
Someone should invent a little picture a person could include at the end of a statement to let the reader know he's only jesting. I guess saying it outright will suffice - I'm only jesting, Lord Corban - but whoever's in charge of the scribes should set them to the task. This one just looked at me as if I'd suggested we should go eat some spiders.
Written By Marius
Oct. 3, 2017, 11:44 p.m.(5/2/1007 AR)
I think it's unwise to discuss strategy and tactics in a white journal before the action is taken. Actually, any time.
Enemies can read, too.
Enemies can read, too.
Written By Marius
Sept. 20, 2017, 11:51 p.m.(4/3/1007 AR)
I should have written this sooner, but it seemed too grand and important a thing for the mere white journals - no offense, scribe.
Simone and I have a son. Myrddin.
Everyone is well. Apparently babies cry a lot. Thank the gods old and new for nursemaids and nannies.
Simone and I have a son. Myrddin.
Everyone is well. Apparently babies cry a lot. Thank the gods old and new for nursemaids and nannies.
Written By Marius
Sept. 5, 2017, 12:44 a.m.(2/24/1007 AR)
Greenmarch children learn a great many stories growing up. The ones who do a good job of remembering them make great shamans. I, however, rarely remember any of them until a shaman starts it up. This, however, is my favourite.
"Centuries ago, when the dew of creation was still fresh upon the ground, the sons and daughters of men and women were faced with a terrible threat. Abysmal and horrific, the demons were seen crouching in the dark places, huddling outside the cities and towns of men and women, sharpening their claws as they salivated at the prospect of devouring those inside. And it came to pass that the sons and daughters of men and women could stand the demons' threat no longer, but found they had no means to fight, nor warriors sufficient to the task.
"The sons and daughters of men and women called out to the oldest gods for deliverance, and the oldest gods replied in a whisper, 'Sleep now. Your deliverance is at hand.' And the sons and daughters of men and women slept and the oldest gods took from each of them one hair and one bead of sweat. And when morning broke the sons and daughters of men and women found that the oldest gods had formed stalwart warriors, each with a terrible weapon. 'These are your defenders,' the oldest gods told the sons and daughters of men and women, 'they will deliver you.'
"But the sons and daughters of men and women chafed at the indignity of being denied the glory of a victory over the abysmal horde. They cast out the warriors into the forest. And there they fought, defiant and merciless. The oldest gods caused great trees to grow to aid the warriors, and the abysmal horde crashed against the steel of the warriors' weapons and the forest trees like waves. And they broke, like waves against a bulwark.
"Unconquered, the warriors made their home in the forest, choosing communion with the oldest gods. Untamed, they found their already wild hearts growing ever more wild with each passing year, until the sons and daughters of men and women looked on them with disdain. Faithful to the oldest gods, the warriors remained steadfast in their defense of the sons and daughters of men and women. And they remain so even to this day.
Stories should stir the blood to action, and generate a sense of the noblest purpose. Even the ones that may not be entirely factual. Perhaps especially those ones.
I'm no shaman. That's the only story I can tell that didn't happen to me.
"Centuries ago, when the dew of creation was still fresh upon the ground, the sons and daughters of men and women were faced with a terrible threat. Abysmal and horrific, the demons were seen crouching in the dark places, huddling outside the cities and towns of men and women, sharpening their claws as they salivated at the prospect of devouring those inside. And it came to pass that the sons and daughters of men and women could stand the demons' threat no longer, but found they had no means to fight, nor warriors sufficient to the task.
"The sons and daughters of men and women called out to the oldest gods for deliverance, and the oldest gods replied in a whisper, 'Sleep now. Your deliverance is at hand.' And the sons and daughters of men and women slept and the oldest gods took from each of them one hair and one bead of sweat. And when morning broke the sons and daughters of men and women found that the oldest gods had formed stalwart warriors, each with a terrible weapon. 'These are your defenders,' the oldest gods told the sons and daughters of men and women, 'they will deliver you.'
"But the sons and daughters of men and women chafed at the indignity of being denied the glory of a victory over the abysmal horde. They cast out the warriors into the forest. And there they fought, defiant and merciless. The oldest gods caused great trees to grow to aid the warriors, and the abysmal horde crashed against the steel of the warriors' weapons and the forest trees like waves. And they broke, like waves against a bulwark.
"Unconquered, the warriors made their home in the forest, choosing communion with the oldest gods. Untamed, they found their already wild hearts growing ever more wild with each passing year, until the sons and daughters of men and women looked on them with disdain. Faithful to the oldest gods, the warriors remained steadfast in their defense of the sons and daughters of men and women. And they remain so even to this day.
Stories should stir the blood to action, and generate a sense of the noblest purpose. Even the ones that may not be entirely factual. Perhaps especially those ones.
I'm no shaman. That's the only story I can tell that didn't happen to me.
Written By Marius
Aug. 31, 2017, 12:56 p.m.(2/15/1007 AR)
This entry is intended to placate the Scribes, who indelicately informed me that I was long overdue for a journal entry.
Written By Marius
July 8, 2017, 5:35 p.m.(10/19/1006 AR)
News of another Greenmarch death has filtered back from home. My uncle Muiryn died of a heart attack at dinner a week ago. But, lest anyone suspect that death took him sleeping, it did not.
My uncle was a giant of a man, and he had a... talent for being found by bears. I can remember him killing one with is bare (if you'll pardon the pun) hands when I was a boy, and wearing the damned head like a hat, until my mother made him take it off and put it away. I don't remember why she did, just that she did.
This time, my uncle was found by some bears. The report is unclear, but the lowest number is two, and the largest is five. So, I've decided it will be three, in all our official documents. He was having lunch by a lake, and they wanted his meal. He disagreed, and if you ever met my uncle, you know his disagreements were usually vigourous. No less this time. Uncle killed them all and then went home. At dinner, he complained of pain, and then fell over. There really was nothing to be done for him.
My uncle was a rock for us. He was the very definition of loyalty. For Muiryn, being family meant you never had to even question whether he would be there for you. It didn't even matter if you were wrong and he knew it - he'd tell you just how stupid you were, and then fight alongside you no matter what or who you faced. He was gruff and hated pants. He loved fiercely. Hiding his whiskey put your health at risk. He gave me exactly two hugs in my life - the days each of my parents died - and I knew he felt the depths of my own sorrow in the ferocity of that embrace.
So: if you knew my uncle, drink. Drink all day, drink all night. Whiskey, or ale if you have no whiskey. And if you see someone drinking wine or anything fruity, knock it from their hand and put a glass of Nightgold in it. It's what Muiryn would have done.
My uncle was a giant of a man, and he had a... talent for being found by bears. I can remember him killing one with is bare (if you'll pardon the pun) hands when I was a boy, and wearing the damned head like a hat, until my mother made him take it off and put it away. I don't remember why she did, just that she did.
This time, my uncle was found by some bears. The report is unclear, but the lowest number is two, and the largest is five. So, I've decided it will be three, in all our official documents. He was having lunch by a lake, and they wanted his meal. He disagreed, and if you ever met my uncle, you know his disagreements were usually vigourous. No less this time. Uncle killed them all and then went home. At dinner, he complained of pain, and then fell over. There really was nothing to be done for him.
My uncle was a rock for us. He was the very definition of loyalty. For Muiryn, being family meant you never had to even question whether he would be there for you. It didn't even matter if you were wrong and he knew it - he'd tell you just how stupid you were, and then fight alongside you no matter what or who you faced. He was gruff and hated pants. He loved fiercely. Hiding his whiskey put your health at risk. He gave me exactly two hugs in my life - the days each of my parents died - and I knew he felt the depths of my own sorrow in the ferocity of that embrace.
So: if you knew my uncle, drink. Drink all day, drink all night. Whiskey, or ale if you have no whiskey. And if you see someone drinking wine or anything fruity, knock it from their hand and put a glass of Nightgold in it. It's what Muiryn would have done.
Written By Marius
June 26, 2017, 9:34 p.m.(9/23/1006 AR)
My cousin, Lady Niamh Greenmarch, passed away. I've been trying to conceive of what justice I could do her here. I've been trying to grieve the way the head of a family should, even if ours isn't the typical family found in the Valardin Ward. We are loud and boisterous, given to wild expressions of emotions we sometimes can barely control. We are fierce and ferocious. We do what duty demands beyond what duty might demand.
Niamh was the best of us. I'll say it here so everyone knows. No matter whoever else from Greenmarch you might meet - myself very much included - know that Niamh was the best one of us. She was the warrior we aspired to be, who cultivated loyalty in people around her of the sort we all want to cultivate. She was kind and gracious, the most fierce and ferocious. She was full of life in ways I could never imagine being.
When one of our family dies, we usually spend a week drinking and partying in their honour, to remember that our lives are not guaranteed, and to exchange stories about her. We wear a bright red armband to remember the purity and quality of the blood of our fallen family member. No red was bright enough for hers, frankly, but we made do. And a week was only barely enough time to share all the memories we needed to, even aided by more whiskey than I think I've ever seen in my life.
Whatever the afterlife has in store for Niamh, I'll tell you this: she won't have been there an hour before she'll have taken the whole thing by the neck and bent it to her will. She was, in every respect, a formidable woman. I am proud to have known her.
Niamh was the best of us. I'll say it here so everyone knows. No matter whoever else from Greenmarch you might meet - myself very much included - know that Niamh was the best one of us. She was the warrior we aspired to be, who cultivated loyalty in people around her of the sort we all want to cultivate. She was kind and gracious, the most fierce and ferocious. She was full of life in ways I could never imagine being.
When one of our family dies, we usually spend a week drinking and partying in their honour, to remember that our lives are not guaranteed, and to exchange stories about her. We wear a bright red armband to remember the purity and quality of the blood of our fallen family member. No red was bright enough for hers, frankly, but we made do. And a week was only barely enough time to share all the memories we needed to, even aided by more whiskey than I think I've ever seen in my life.
Whatever the afterlife has in store for Niamh, I'll tell you this: she won't have been there an hour before she'll have taken the whole thing by the neck and bent it to her will. She was, in every respect, a formidable woman. I am proud to have known her.
Written By Marius
May 7, 2017, 6:23 p.m.(6/4/1006 AR)
Everything I could say about the battle would be superfluous. It's been said, by people more eloquent than I.
So, instead, I'll simply say that if I were any prouder of my family - of everyone who played even a small, behind-the-scenes role - and how they acquitted themselves in this battle, I would risk bursting.
Untamed and Unconquered. Especially that last one.
Stag Points all around.
So, instead, I'll simply say that if I were any prouder of my family - of everyone who played even a small, behind-the-scenes role - and how they acquitted themselves in this battle, I would risk bursting.
Untamed and Unconquered. Especially that last one.
Stag Points all around.
Written By Marius
May 5, 2017, 11:26 a.m.(5/26/1006 AR)
Relationship Note on Sasha
It's not common to meet a Valardin willing to do away with formalities after only a short conversation. I like this Princess.
Written By Marius
May 5, 2017, 11:25 a.m.(5/26/1006 AR)
Relationship Note on Calista
She seemed to appreciate Greenmarch traditional fashion. That's a mark in her favour, along with her wit. But if she won't drink whiskey, we can't be friends.
Written By Marius
May 5, 2017, 10:43 a.m.(5/26/1006 AR)
Relationship Note on Ansel
I find myself rarely able to guess what Ansel will do at any given time, with one exception: He will do whatever is most honourable, most valiant, and probably the most stone-headed foolish in pursuit of his duty and responsibility - he can't even help it. I'm fortunate to have him as a liege lord. I'm privileged to call him a brother-in-law. I'm honoured to call him a friend.
Written By Marius
May 5, 2017, 10:42 a.m.(5/26/1006 AR)
Relationship Note on Niamh
If I had the choice between wrestling with a bear and facing Niamh in a fight to the death, I'd take the bear 9 times out of 10. There's always the chance the earth will open up and swallow the bear; Niamh would find a way to finish the job regardless. I am a fortunate man to have a woman like her as my cousin - not just because I doubt I'll face her blade, but because she is so much more than a mere sword. But, I won't embarrass her here with stories from when we were young; she could do worse about me.
Written By Marius
April 17, 2017, 11:25 a.m.(4/15/1006 AR)
“Untamed and Unconquered.”
That is the motto of House Greenmarch. That is the motto of everyone in our care. From the housewife who snatches up a kitchen knife in defense of her family in the middle of a surprise raid, to the warrior who stands alone in the gap against the horde, this motto is seared into our very marrow.
“Untamed and Unconquered.” We mean it literally.
I am certain, before this crisis is over, Brand and his demon horde will hear those words in their nightmares.
That is the motto of House Greenmarch. That is the motto of everyone in our care. From the housewife who snatches up a kitchen knife in defense of her family in the middle of a surprise raid, to the warrior who stands alone in the gap against the horde, this motto is seared into our very marrow.
“Untamed and Unconquered.” We mean it literally.
I am certain, before this crisis is over, Brand and his demon horde will hear those words in their nightmares.
Written By Marius
March 24, 2017, 12:43 a.m.(2/23/1006 AR)
I am to be a father.
In the middle of this crisis, my wife and I choose to bring into the world a baby. Someone might think this foolish or selfish - not in close proximity to me if they want to keep all their fingers, kind - but it was nothing of the sort. Nor was it the political need for an heir.
No. It was this: love so rich it spurs confidence in the future as certainty.
In the middle of this crisis, my wife and I choose to bring into the world a baby. Someone might think this foolish or selfish - not in close proximity to me if they want to keep all their fingers, kind - but it was nothing of the sort. Nor was it the political need for an heir.
No. It was this: love so rich it spurs confidence in the future as certainty.
Written By Marius
Feb. 22, 2017, 3:28 p.m.(12/20/1005 AR)
Relationship Note on Edain
Owning one's fealty and earning it are different things. Let it never be said that Prince Edain does the former without the latter. In all interactions, he seems to value my input, as a man, a vassal, and a Prodigal. I believe he truly does see the difference between my family and his as a strength, which makes him something of a rarity. He is honourable and brave, even bold - you will find few characteristics than those more admired by Greenmarchers. While I am his vassal by law because of my father, I would choose to follow him myself tomorrow if I had to make the decision. He, almost on his own, has made bending the knee a positive thing, in my mind.
Written By Marius
Feb. 22, 2017, 1:55 p.m.(12/20/1005 AR)
The next messenger who interrupts me when I'm eating is going to get put through a wall.
Unless I'm about to eat poison, leave me alone, you thrice-damned annoyances.
Today, anyway.
Unless I'm about to eat poison, leave me alone, you thrice-damned annoyances.
Today, anyway.
Please note that the scholars may take some time preparing your journal for others to read.