Written By Tyrus
May 27, 2020, 10:40 a.m.(5/14/1013 AR)
Relationship Note on Evangeline
That does strangely ring a bell! Clearly I should look into it.
Written By Tyrus
May 26, 2020, 1:13 p.m.(5/12/1013 AR)
This is reminding me that I should reach out to the Whispers for tutoring. Just because I'm not the worst of the lot doesn't mean there isn't ground for improvement.
Written By Tyrus
May 12, 2020, 8:32 a.m.(4/11/1013 AR)
I cannot say I do not understand the desire to marry for love. I married Damia for love, for this desperate anchor we could be to each other's humanity.
My wife was a slave, just as I was.
Do I think it is wise to marry for love? No. Not when it is done among Peers. Not when we've so many duties, when our actions affect so many lives.
Do I think it is wise to self-righteously take some imaginary moral high ground on the subject? No. To have a loveless marriage is no achievement. It's incredibly easy to achieve. To have a political marriage turn sour likewise.
To have a marriage that is both political and from which love may bloom? A rare and fortunate feat.
Just don't confuse which came first, else you might realize too late your moral high ground stands upon nothing at all.
My wife was a slave, just as I was.
Do I think it is wise to marry for love? No. Not when it is done among Peers. Not when we've so many duties, when our actions affect so many lives.
Do I think it is wise to self-righteously take some imaginary moral high ground on the subject? No. To have a loveless marriage is no achievement. It's incredibly easy to achieve. To have a political marriage turn sour likewise.
To have a marriage that is both political and from which love may bloom? A rare and fortunate feat.
Just don't confuse which came first, else you might realize too late your moral high ground stands upon nothing at all.
Written By Tyrus
May 4, 2020, 7:29 p.m.(3/24/1013 AR)
You think you know something, possess firm foundations upon which to rest further knowledge, till these foundations are revealed to be as fragile as a castle of cards.
Better to know the foundations are faulty than when lives depend on it.
Better to know the foundations are faulty than when lives depend on it.
Written By Tyrus
April 27, 2020, 9:44 p.m.(3/10/1013 AR)
I helped someone today.
It took me a moment. A moment to listen to her, to uncover what the problem was. It wasn't anything that I could fix myself, but finding what it was, some of the answers, and pointing her towards those that could help... It seemed to help.
It's been a long time since I've felt like I had done any difference. That I had helped in any way, great or small, even just one person.
Sometimes it's just a matter of knowing you're not alone facing the dark that makes the difference.
It took me a moment. A moment to listen to her, to uncover what the problem was. It wasn't anything that I could fix myself, but finding what it was, some of the answers, and pointing her towards those that could help... It seemed to help.
It's been a long time since I've felt like I had done any difference. That I had helped in any way, great or small, even just one person.
Sometimes it's just a matter of knowing you're not alone facing the dark that makes the difference.
Written By Tyrus
April 22, 2020, 11:13 p.m.(2/28/1013 AR)
A whirlwind that allows only certain ships to pass should rank highly on the list of strange things encountered.
Unfortunately, the novelty faded long ago.
Unfortunately, the novelty faded long ago.
Written By Tyrus
Feb. 20, 2020, 1:04 p.m.(10/16/1012 AR)
Copper lived, fought and died to offer us something better than a choice between two sets of chains.
Her legacy remains alive to this day, among us. In the choices we make, in the battles that we face, in the hope for a better dream. Her legacy remain, though she was all too human. No goddess was she, the one whose watch guarded Arvum from the chains of the Undying Emperor or the Skylords of Cardia or even the slavemasters of Eurus.
She was human.
The Dream lost much when she passed. Yet I refuse to believe that with her is gone humanity's hope to live without chains, without having to fear the designs of entities so intent on keeping it leashed lest it threaten their schemes. She was human and every single one of us has the potential to be what she was. To defend all against those who would take advantage that one of our greatest defenders is now gone.
Where she fell, others will rise. The chains will be broken.
Her legacy remains alive to this day, among us. In the choices we make, in the battles that we face, in the hope for a better dream. Her legacy remain, though she was all too human. No goddess was she, the one whose watch guarded Arvum from the chains of the Undying Emperor or the Skylords of Cardia or even the slavemasters of Eurus.
She was human.
The Dream lost much when she passed. Yet I refuse to believe that with her is gone humanity's hope to live without chains, without having to fear the designs of entities so intent on keeping it leashed lest it threaten their schemes. She was human and every single one of us has the potential to be what she was. To defend all against those who would take advantage that one of our greatest defenders is now gone.
Where she fell, others will rise. The chains will be broken.
Written By Tyrus
Feb. 17, 2020, 9:13 p.m.(10.346827463624338/13.422337962962963/1012.7789022886353 AR)
Relationship Note on Mason
I do not know what moved me to read this particular journal. Pure chance, I suppose. A whim. Yet I read.
I do not hate all Eurusi. I know that many of the slaves who died on the island were Eurusi themselves. I felt for them no lesser companionship, no lesser loyalty, than for the Abandoned or the very few Arvani that were present.
Yet I hated, and very much hate still, those who wield the whip. The masters. Those who used the suffering of men and women, of the old and the young, to fulfill whatever desire they might have had. Using them as tools. As things.
It would be one of these ironies that my captors were not tied to the Dune Emperor. They were exiles, displaced from their home city of Glor'Ruus by the rise of this Emperor. To those who think dispatching the Dune Emperor and his allies will be enough to end the evil of Eurus, I fear you are gravely mistaken. The masters on the island were no less cruel, no less uncaring about the lives of the slaves they so casually crushed based on their own whims, their own desires.
Yet... I would lie if I claimed I could not understand the journal written by Prince Mason Grayson. Could not relate on some level to what he described.
I was one of those who did not like thralldom. One of those whose discomfort towards this 'institution' of the Mourning Isles was constant. Yet I was raised in the household of the then High Lord Donrai Thrax. Such things were simply part of life. And even as I would do small things, little things, to try and offer kindness where my uncle showed only indifference or cruelty, I did not question the place of thralldom in my life. I did not question this institution, so tied to Thrax.
Much like I expect many of the Eurusi do not question the institution of slavery within the Dune Kingdoms.
It took my becoming a slave to open my eyes.
So. I can relate to what was written by one from an Eurusi royal family. His Highness offered to speak of the horrors he saw in his previous homeland, the horrors of how slaves were treated. Should one need a visual aid, I still bear the scars on my back and shoulders.
I would be lying if I said part of me didn't wish to see the Dune Kingdoms burn, see them razed till even the very memory of their existence was but dust. But the journal of Prince Mason Grayson has at least showed me that there is reason to at least try to see the highborn of Eurus with something else than absolute hate.
It's a step, I suppose.
I do not hate all Eurusi. I know that many of the slaves who died on the island were Eurusi themselves. I felt for them no lesser companionship, no lesser loyalty, than for the Abandoned or the very few Arvani that were present.
Yet I hated, and very much hate still, those who wield the whip. The masters. Those who used the suffering of men and women, of the old and the young, to fulfill whatever desire they might have had. Using them as tools. As things.
It would be one of these ironies that my captors were not tied to the Dune Emperor. They were exiles, displaced from their home city of Glor'Ruus by the rise of this Emperor. To those who think dispatching the Dune Emperor and his allies will be enough to end the evil of Eurus, I fear you are gravely mistaken. The masters on the island were no less cruel, no less uncaring about the lives of the slaves they so casually crushed based on their own whims, their own desires.
Yet... I would lie if I claimed I could not understand the journal written by Prince Mason Grayson. Could not relate on some level to what he described.
I was one of those who did not like thralldom. One of those whose discomfort towards this 'institution' of the Mourning Isles was constant. Yet I was raised in the household of the then High Lord Donrai Thrax. Such things were simply part of life. And even as I would do small things, little things, to try and offer kindness where my uncle showed only indifference or cruelty, I did not question the place of thralldom in my life. I did not question this institution, so tied to Thrax.
Much like I expect many of the Eurusi do not question the institution of slavery within the Dune Kingdoms.
It took my becoming a slave to open my eyes.
So. I can relate to what was written by one from an Eurusi royal family. His Highness offered to speak of the horrors he saw in his previous homeland, the horrors of how slaves were treated. Should one need a visual aid, I still bear the scars on my back and shoulders.
I would be lying if I said part of me didn't wish to see the Dune Kingdoms burn, see them razed till even the very memory of their existence was but dust. But the journal of Prince Mason Grayson has at least showed me that there is reason to at least try to see the highborn of Eurus with something else than absolute hate.
It's a step, I suppose.
Written By Tyrus
Feb. 17, 2020, 8:43 p.m.(10.345320353835978/13.337939814814813/1012.778776696153 AR)
I did not react well when I heard Prism speak at the Assembly of Peers.
I've learnt more about who and what she is since that day, and have had time to process through what was triggered by the choice she offered us all. I understand the importance of our intent as we go face this threat, as a crusade is called and we go battle the invading Eurusi. Why we do it, how we do it, matters just as much as the action itself. Intent matters and echoes within our Dream. I know this, I knew this... yet in that moment it was not what I could think of.
Instead all I saw were the faces of those I had grown to love over time. Not just Aelia and Damia, the two closest to me, but every friend made while on that accursed island. Every man and woman with whom I shared these thirteen years of slavery under the whips of the Eurusi masters. The faces of dead men and women, who suffered and died without ever being saved. Good people whose very hope would slowly fade from their eyes, till they were human no longer, just flesh and bone accomplishing a task till they were broken like so many tools.
I remembered the nights I would stay awake and I would hear their prayers. I was one of the very, very few Arvani on the island. The rest were all Abandoned or Eurusi. Yet their words, their precious hopes, their plea, were all the same.
Save us.
Deliver us.
My own hope withered away, my love for Damia one of the last remnants of my humanity, till Aelia entered our lives and filled me anew with the will to fight, to break free. To try and die if need be, if only to give her, to give them all, a chance for the life I had known before. A human life, free.
I could only give that to a few, those who made it to the ship and survived the raging sea to make it to the Compact. Those who I tried my best to give good lives in a Compact they had never known.
The rest? Damia, an Abandoned I had sworn to protect as a husband protects his wife? Aelia, my dearest daughter, for whom I would have done anything to offer a better future, a better life than the one of a slave? They died. Aelia was three. She died having only ever been a slave.
But now something changed? Now the Seraph of Freedom has deemed fitting and good to tell the people of the Compact to free the slaves of Eurus? Now is the time?
/Now/, after they're all dead, the Seraph descends from the heavens to tell us it's time?
No, I did not react well to her words in the Assembly. I've since learnt more, and will no doubt learn more as I speak to those closer to the Faith than I am. Yet I would lie if I said that the anger does not linger.
I am reminded of a discussion I had with my cousin Leona. She told me humanity could not have it both ways. We cannot demand freedom and the power to make our own decision, and then expect the Gods to swoop in every time something goes wrong, to save us every time. I agree. I understand.
Yet when the Gods do choose to act, when they make the choice to get involved this time, because this time it matters? I see the faces of the men and women I knew, of the daughter and wife I loved. And wonder what in their suffering was deemed unworthy of action.
I've learnt more about who and what she is since that day, and have had time to process through what was triggered by the choice she offered us all. I understand the importance of our intent as we go face this threat, as a crusade is called and we go battle the invading Eurusi. Why we do it, how we do it, matters just as much as the action itself. Intent matters and echoes within our Dream. I know this, I knew this... yet in that moment it was not what I could think of.
Instead all I saw were the faces of those I had grown to love over time. Not just Aelia and Damia, the two closest to me, but every friend made while on that accursed island. Every man and woman with whom I shared these thirteen years of slavery under the whips of the Eurusi masters. The faces of dead men and women, who suffered and died without ever being saved. Good people whose very hope would slowly fade from their eyes, till they were human no longer, just flesh and bone accomplishing a task till they were broken like so many tools.
I remembered the nights I would stay awake and I would hear their prayers. I was one of the very, very few Arvani on the island. The rest were all Abandoned or Eurusi. Yet their words, their precious hopes, their plea, were all the same.
Save us.
Deliver us.
My own hope withered away, my love for Damia one of the last remnants of my humanity, till Aelia entered our lives and filled me anew with the will to fight, to break free. To try and die if need be, if only to give her, to give them all, a chance for the life I had known before. A human life, free.
I could only give that to a few, those who made it to the ship and survived the raging sea to make it to the Compact. Those who I tried my best to give good lives in a Compact they had never known.
The rest? Damia, an Abandoned I had sworn to protect as a husband protects his wife? Aelia, my dearest daughter, for whom I would have done anything to offer a better future, a better life than the one of a slave? They died. Aelia was three. She died having only ever been a slave.
But now something changed? Now the Seraph of Freedom has deemed fitting and good to tell the people of the Compact to free the slaves of Eurus? Now is the time?
/Now/, after they're all dead, the Seraph descends from the heavens to tell us it's time?
No, I did not react well to her words in the Assembly. I've since learnt more, and will no doubt learn more as I speak to those closer to the Faith than I am. Yet I would lie if I said that the anger does not linger.
I am reminded of a discussion I had with my cousin Leona. She told me humanity could not have it both ways. We cannot demand freedom and the power to make our own decision, and then expect the Gods to swoop in every time something goes wrong, to save us every time. I agree. I understand.
Yet when the Gods do choose to act, when they make the choice to get involved this time, because this time it matters? I see the faces of the men and women I knew, of the daughter and wife I loved. And wonder what in their suffering was deemed unworthy of action.
Written By Tyrus
Feb. 10, 2020, 7:29 p.m.(9.738343667328042/28.347245370370374/1012.7281953056107 AR)
Genevieve would always be the first I saw on the docks upon my return. Even when I was still learning to sail, she would prove to be a constant and encouraging presence. Later on, she would insist that I take her with me when I'd go out on my own or with my crew, even when she had other tasks that needed to be done. My sister knew that I'd accept in the end, for while I shared my passion for reading with Sylvi, Genevieve was the one with whom I shared the most nights looking up to the heavens to gaze at the stars.
And few places can fill one with more wonder than the night sky above the open sea, with not a terrestrial light to spoil the view.
My mind plays tricks on me even now. She has been dead for years, my isolation the only reason why it still feels so recent. Yet as I wander the deck of my ship during one of these star-filled nights, I'll still catch a glimpse of her. An echo of a memory. Just as I'll think I can see her waiting for me at the docks. A ghost that only I can see, gone in an instant.
I wish we had more time. I wish there had been more time. I wish... this time was different.
But some things cannot be changed.
And few places can fill one with more wonder than the night sky above the open sea, with not a terrestrial light to spoil the view.
My mind plays tricks on me even now. She has been dead for years, my isolation the only reason why it still feels so recent. Yet as I wander the deck of my ship during one of these star-filled nights, I'll still catch a glimpse of her. An echo of a memory. Just as I'll think I can see her waiting for me at the docks. A ghost that only I can see, gone in an instant.
I wish we had more time. I wish there had been more time. I wish... this time was different.
But some things cannot be changed.
Written By Tyrus
Jan. 29, 2020, noon(8.859499007936508/28.131944444444443/1012.6549582506614 AR)
Sylvi's journal made me realize something about my complicated relationship with the Gods. It was not always that way. Being raised in the household we were allowed for little time for the pursuit of faith, not when we had our orders to obey, our moves to make like pawns on the board. I attended sermons, spoke the words, yet did not truly believe. It was simply another task to accomplish.
The slavery changed all of that.
Being made helpless, powerless, has a way to make us pray. All the things I took for granted, all the things I dismissed as merely tasks, suddenly took another shape, another form. A new perspective that gave them new life and meaning. I prayed, in those years. Prayed a thousand times. At first I prayed for myself. Then, as I grew to know the others enslaved with me, my own name faded from my prayers, replaced by those that had become my companions in this hell.
When Damia and I became man and wife, I prayed. I gave thanks. Begged that they protect her. When Aelia came into our lives, I did that and more. I prayed for salvation, for deliverance from the chains for all those kept on that island. For those I had grown to love to be given a fairer, a better, life.
There's some irony, I suppose, that my worst fears and truest hopes would be answered at once.
Afterwards... How could I pray, how could I worship, when they had taken them from me? I blamed the Gods. Blamed Her. Even when I stopped doing so, even when time afforded the healing only it can, I did not pray. When I would go to the shrines, it would be with the knowledge that They are here, yet without the comfort and belief such knowledge should give me. A hollowness where faith should be.
Sylvi's journal made me aware of a great many things, in that peculiar way that comes from reading someone else's writing and reflecting. I decided to do something I hadn't done in what feels like a lifetime ago.
I prayed at the altar of the Queen of Endings today.
I spoke the names of those gone back to Her, the family I had before and after. I spoke the names of those who yet live. So long as I draw breath, I know it is up to me to act and do all I can to support and protect those I care for. Yet for the first time, there is comfort in the knowledge that She is here, at the beginning and at the end, throughout.
Fragile, these seeds of faith. Yet they grow.
The slavery changed all of that.
Being made helpless, powerless, has a way to make us pray. All the things I took for granted, all the things I dismissed as merely tasks, suddenly took another shape, another form. A new perspective that gave them new life and meaning. I prayed, in those years. Prayed a thousand times. At first I prayed for myself. Then, as I grew to know the others enslaved with me, my own name faded from my prayers, replaced by those that had become my companions in this hell.
When Damia and I became man and wife, I prayed. I gave thanks. Begged that they protect her. When Aelia came into our lives, I did that and more. I prayed for salvation, for deliverance from the chains for all those kept on that island. For those I had grown to love to be given a fairer, a better, life.
There's some irony, I suppose, that my worst fears and truest hopes would be answered at once.
Afterwards... How could I pray, how could I worship, when they had taken them from me? I blamed the Gods. Blamed Her. Even when I stopped doing so, even when time afforded the healing only it can, I did not pray. When I would go to the shrines, it would be with the knowledge that They are here, yet without the comfort and belief such knowledge should give me. A hollowness where faith should be.
Sylvi's journal made me aware of a great many things, in that peculiar way that comes from reading someone else's writing and reflecting. I decided to do something I hadn't done in what feels like a lifetime ago.
I prayed at the altar of the Queen of Endings today.
I spoke the names of those gone back to Her, the family I had before and after. I spoke the names of those who yet live. So long as I draw breath, I know it is up to me to act and do all I can to support and protect those I care for. Yet for the first time, there is comfort in the knowledge that She is here, at the beginning and at the end, throughout.
Fragile, these seeds of faith. Yet they grow.
Written By Tyrus
Jan. 29, 2020, 9:30 a.m.(8.852093253968253/27.71722222222222/1012.6543411044973 AR)
How do I feel about the slavers from the Eurusi city dedicated to slavery coming over intent on punishing us for the crime of freeing those they had enslaved beyond their shores?
How do you think?
I've not yet the words. Hate and anger are both strong emotions, yet they do not always supply the right words to describe both.
It is not the anger of the righteous or the zeal of the holy that move me. It is rage. The rage that grows in the heart of every slave with each passing day, week, month and year.
Rage at those who would bring us to heel like dogs.
How do you think?
I've not yet the words. Hate and anger are both strong emotions, yet they do not always supply the right words to describe both.
It is not the anger of the righteous or the zeal of the holy that move me. It is rage. The rage that grows in the heart of every slave with each passing day, week, month and year.
Rage at those who would bring us to heel like dogs.
Written By Tyrus
Jan. 27, 2020, 11:04 a.m.(8.714219576719577/26.996296296296293/1012.6428516313933 AR)
You're always there, aren't you?
I spent so long making my own path, intent on having it be so, to be free of all ties, all things that reminded me of the chains the Eurusi forced on me for thirteen years. In the end, it was a path I intended to walk alone. I never was, not really, able to count upon the support of true friends. Yet in other ways I walked alone, without any of you.
They say a man cannot survive in that place, when two titans do battle. Not unless aided, shielded, by one of them. I dismissed it at first. Assumed the worst after. Accepted not knowing even later on. Left it aside, put it out of mind.
Yet now... I've seen you. Another of you. For a man who has spoken of walking a solitary path, it is one that has crossed with yours more often than I would have expected. A humbling experience, yet freeing as well.
I understood the power of belief. I now understand the why of faith.
Thank you.
I spent so long making my own path, intent on having it be so, to be free of all ties, all things that reminded me of the chains the Eurusi forced on me for thirteen years. In the end, it was a path I intended to walk alone. I never was, not really, able to count upon the support of true friends. Yet in other ways I walked alone, without any of you.
They say a man cannot survive in that place, when two titans do battle. Not unless aided, shielded, by one of them. I dismissed it at first. Assumed the worst after. Accepted not knowing even later on. Left it aside, put it out of mind.
Yet now... I've seen you. Another of you. For a man who has spoken of walking a solitary path, it is one that has crossed with yours more often than I would have expected. A humbling experience, yet freeing as well.
I understood the power of belief. I now understand the why of faith.
Thank you.
Written By Tyrus
Jan. 25, 2020, 9:06 p.m.(8.60127521494709/20.671412037037037/1012.6334396012456 AR)
I'll have to ask for updated maps. Last I heard of Stormheart, it stood in a valley among mountain peaks. Now it has a shipyard.
The wonders of the continent.
The wonders of the continent.
Written By Tyrus
Jan. 24, 2020, 9:21 a.m.(8.494866898148148/21.712546296296296/1012.6245722415124 AR)
I find I am more impressed by the man who makes the choice for light having lived a life plunged in darkness than I am by the one who chooses light and always has. The latter merely does what they have always known and always done. True change came from the former.
Written By Tyrus
Jan. 21, 2020, 4:03 p.m.(8.30056712962963/10.831759259259258/1012.6083805941358 AR)
The greatest of any generation. I always hope they're mistaken when they say such things of someone who has passed on. That this only serves as motivation for future souls to surpass them. For it would be a sad thing to uncover that there lies the limit, the best anyone can ever be. And that this best... wasn't enough.
To those that come after, whenever you encounter one who has been deemed the best there ever will be? Prove us wrong.
To those that come after, whenever you encounter one who has been deemed the best there ever will be? Prove us wrong.
Written By Tyrus
Jan. 20, 2020, 1:59 p.m.(8.223059275793652/13.491319444444445/1012.6019216063162 AR)
More than a year has gone by since my return to Arx and I did not notice.
A year spent mourning the dead and meeting the living. A year of change. A year of joy and sorrow.
So much has changed in that year. So little has changed. They've been dead for more than a year. I've lived for yet another.
A year spent mourning the dead and meeting the living. A year of change. A year of joy and sorrow.
So much has changed in that year. So little has changed. They've been dead for more than a year. I've lived for yet another.
Written By Tyrus
Jan. 17, 2020, 8:31 a.m.(7/28/1012 AR)
Relationship Note on Josephine
Strange things, these chance meetings. I met Josephine on the eve of her departure in Mangata's shrine, where we spoke of our children, now lost, and death.
She did not expect to survive.
A parent should never outlive their children. It was said, that night in the shrine. She had come there to tell her sons they may see her sooner rather than later.
I hope she had her wish. It is the least the Dream can grant her.
She did not expect to survive.
A parent should never outlive their children. It was said, that night in the shrine. She had come there to tell her sons they may see her sooner rather than later.
I hope she had her wish. It is the least the Dream can grant her.
Written By Tyrus
Jan. 13, 2020, 2:07 p.m.(7/21/1012 AR)
Cats make for excellent companions while on the seas. Many sailors will refuse to leave port, in fact, if there are no cats aboard. Part superstition, part practicality. Few are as skilled in hunting down rodents.
Sailors are also very protective of their ship's cats, to a degree that has always surprised mainlanders. Best to be polite with them, unless you wish the whole crew to seek revenge.
Sailors are also very protective of their ship's cats, to a degree that has always surprised mainlanders. Best to be polite with them, unless you wish the whole crew to seek revenge.
Written By Tyrus
Jan. 13, 2020, 1:49 p.m.(7/21/1012 AR)
It seems a lot has changed while I was gone and a lot more is to change.
It'll no doubt take me days to catch up, yet in that time it'll be good to meet with others whom I've not spoken to for too long.
I should also take the time to grow more familiar with local weaponsmiths. A dagger of alaricite is not something I ever expected to own, but it'll no doubt prove useful next time I'm swallowed up by some accursed beast.
It'll no doubt take me days to catch up, yet in that time it'll be good to meet with others whom I've not spoken to for too long.
I should also take the time to grow more familiar with local weaponsmiths. A dagger of alaricite is not something I ever expected to own, but it'll no doubt prove useful next time I'm swallowed up by some accursed beast.
Please note that the scholars may take some time preparing your journal for others to read.