Written By Felicia
June 16, 2018, 11:06 a.m.(1/10/1009 AR)
Relationship Note on Elara
Even if I could, it would feel wrong.
You are free now, and I know Mother will keep you in Her arms until it is your time anew.
Enjoy your rest, and may your next turn on the Wheel be a happier one.
You will be missed.
You are free now, and I know Mother will keep you in Her arms until it is your time anew.
Enjoy your rest, and may your next turn on the Wheel be a happier one.
You will be missed.
Written By Felicia
June 8, 2018, 11:32 p.m.(12/14/1008 AR)
Wheelspinner
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Written By Felicia
June 4, 2018, 7:44 a.m.(11/28/1008 AR)
There are no words. Prelate Stillwater revealed a truth that in our first meeting that lead me towards greater meaning.
I know he has returned now to the Queen, and will be reborn again when the Mother feels it is his time, but it does not make the loss any less shocking. Or the loss any less keen.
I know he has returned now to the Queen, and will be reborn again when the Mother feels it is his time, but it does not make the loss any less shocking. Or the loss any less keen.
Written By Felicia
May 20, 2018, 6:08 a.m.(10/11/1008 AR)
Relationship Note on Porter
Dear Captain Porter Kennex;
Perhaps only as a recreational activity.
Assuming I return to the city safely.
You can even wear your dancing shoes.
Perhaps only as a recreational activity.
Assuming I return to the city safely.
You can even wear your dancing shoes.
Written By Felicia
May 20, 2018, 6:03 a.m.(10/11/1008 AR)
So many changes, and a trip soon to be undertaken, 'soon' feels so vague, and there's been plenty to organise with regards to it. And more to keep me awake at night with regards to it. Dear Gods please let them all come home safe. That's all I ask.
Written By Felicia
May 19, 2018, 6:31 a.m.(10/9/1008 AR)
For the record; blisters are painful. Very. Still, it was worth it. I met probably the tallest man in all of Arvum, and beat him on a barrel with a wooden sword before I got my butt well and truly handed to me by the Admiral Aethan Kennex.
I climbed rigging! Apparently I'm good at it. Or at least, it's approximation on solid ground rather than churning seas. I've got the feeling if it came down to it I'd be sharing my breakfast with Mangata rather than leaping about like a monkey on the ropes.
And then I braved a rug full of hot rocks and steam. Hence the blisters. So many blisters. But I now have all kinds of baubles to wear when I'm not in armor. I've added them to my collection. Not that I often have occasion to wear such frippery, but still.
I climbed rigging! Apparently I'm good at it. Or at least, it's approximation on solid ground rather than churning seas. I've got the feeling if it came down to it I'd be sharing my breakfast with Mangata rather than leaping about like a monkey on the ropes.
And then I braved a rug full of hot rocks and steam. Hence the blisters. So many blisters. But I now have all kinds of baubles to wear when I'm not in armor. I've added them to my collection. Not that I often have occasion to wear such frippery, but still.
Written By Felicia
May 6, 2018, 7:23 p.m.(9/11/1008 AR)
Relationship Note on Jaenelle
Mercifully, with him staying at the royal stables there will be less concern about him trying to eat me out of the barracks, and well, I won him as a prize at the Keaton event.
Much of my on-duty hours, and some of my off, are spent meeting new people and greeting old friends, assuredly!
Much of my on-duty hours, and some of my off, are spent meeting new people and greeting old friends, assuredly!
Written By Felicia
May 6, 2018, 8:48 a.m.(9/10/1008 AR)
I own a goat.
Let me repeat... I OWN A GOAT.
What /was/ I thinking? I mean, granted, he is terribly adorable, in an angelically white enough to be silver way, and tiny. And someone with a sense of humour named the poor thing Warrior, when it faints at the slightest alarm.
His Majesty has kindly allowed me to house my new goat at the Royal Stables, and even offered to walk him on occasion. So naturally, I have asked a friend to sew together a small harness for him befitting his new station. Hopefully I shaln't need to do more than feed him grass.
Let me repeat... I OWN A GOAT.
What /was/ I thinking? I mean, granted, he is terribly adorable, in an angelically white enough to be silver way, and tiny. And someone with a sense of humour named the poor thing Warrior, when it faints at the slightest alarm.
His Majesty has kindly allowed me to house my new goat at the Royal Stables, and even offered to walk him on occasion. So naturally, I have asked a friend to sew together a small harness for him befitting his new station. Hopefully I shaln't need to do more than feed him grass.
Written By Felicia
May 3, 2018, 7:16 p.m.(9/3/1008 AR)
My apology's, to those who bore witness to my poor behaviour last night. Even as inebriated as I was there is no excuse for striking my brother, or the rambling incoherence that accompanied it. It was unbecoming of my duties and the evening both.
Written By Felicia
April 29, 2018, 6:42 p.m.(8/22/1008 AR)
Relationship Note on Monique
I went to a Lycene event and met a spider; a quite lovely one, at that. Though for all the loveliness of her webbed gown, I find that the 'Minx of the Marches' moniker to be particularly apt. Here's to a lovely new friendship! I hope to see her again soon.
Written By Felicia
April 23, 2018, 7:23 p.m.(8/10/1008 AR)
Increasingly I find I'm having to divide my time in ever more fine increments. I think, soon, I'm going to need to settle and determine where my efforts are best served, and what must be sacrificed if I'm to achieve all that I need to in this lifetime. On one hand, what deserves and shall receive my attention is obvious, on the other hand I find myself pondering where I can eke more time out of the day for frivolous distractions.
Today, though, I oversaw the finishing touches on some gifts for cherished friends, and it was worth every indulgent moment of idleness to witness.
Today, though, I oversaw the finishing touches on some gifts for cherished friends, and it was worth every indulgent moment of idleness to witness.
Written By Felicia
April 20, 2018, 8:26 p.m.(8/4/1008 AR)
A busy week it has been, and more to come. Not just one but a few trips to prepare for, and an unveiling to come. I'm still not satisfied with it, but perhaps I am simply being too critical of the work. Hopefully it will help to serve as inspiration for those to come.
Written By Felicia
April 7, 2018, 6:10 p.m.(7/6/1008 AR)
On being common;
Choice and worry for the future.
Much has been made of charity in the Lowers over the last handful of years, but I remember my sisters inheriting my clothing because we could not afford to buy new clothing of their own. Of scraps of wool that became blankets so that we wouldn't freeze in winter. Nights of 'soup' that only held the memory of what had been added to it three days beforehand.
It was my mother at the cocks crow, pregnant and sick, strapping on her armor anyways because we could not afford for her not to work when she should have been resting. My father's gnarled feet where he lost toes to frostbite because we could not afford to replace his boots. It was them aging before they should have of and dying before they should have of. It was helping my grandfather care for my siblings, of the weight of knowing that time is finite and before too long it would fall to me.
It was picking up a stick, as soon as I was strong enough to carry one. A stick that became a knife. And a knife that became a sword, so that in turn I could help provide for my brothers and sisters. It was choosing hardship over the easy 'lure' of crime. And the terror of wondering whether or not the Guard would accept me when I was old enough to join.
I can't tell you what it means to be noble, but to be common is to know that things are bigger than yourself, and that however insignificant your part might feel to another that it can be your whole world, and requires your unflinching dedication, because more than your own comfort rides on your success or failure.
Choice and worry for the future.
Much has been made of charity in the Lowers over the last handful of years, but I remember my sisters inheriting my clothing because we could not afford to buy new clothing of their own. Of scraps of wool that became blankets so that we wouldn't freeze in winter. Nights of 'soup' that only held the memory of what had been added to it three days beforehand.
It was my mother at the cocks crow, pregnant and sick, strapping on her armor anyways because we could not afford for her not to work when she should have been resting. My father's gnarled feet where he lost toes to frostbite because we could not afford to replace his boots. It was them aging before they should have of and dying before they should have of. It was helping my grandfather care for my siblings, of the weight of knowing that time is finite and before too long it would fall to me.
It was picking up a stick, as soon as I was strong enough to carry one. A stick that became a knife. And a knife that became a sword, so that in turn I could help provide for my brothers and sisters. It was choosing hardship over the easy 'lure' of crime. And the terror of wondering whether or not the Guard would accept me when I was old enough to join.
I can't tell you what it means to be noble, but to be common is to know that things are bigger than yourself, and that however insignificant your part might feel to another that it can be your whole world, and requires your unflinching dedication, because more than your own comfort rides on your success or failure.
Written By Felicia
March 25, 2018, 7:08 a.m.(6/4/1008 AR)
I suck at analogies, but here it goes.
I'm not a flower, I'm a tree, and no matter how much bullshit you shovel at me, that's not going to change.
People who try to prune me into a flower or think a pissant little ring is going to keep me contained are going to get a limb dropped on their heads.
To steal words from a friend, live a life that's worth celebrating. None of us know how long we've got or where we might end up, so be damned sure about what kind of legacy you want to leave behind.
Some wounds can be forgiven, thoughtless words, thoughtless actions, we can all be guilty of them. But at the end of the day the one that owns their deeds and makes the choice to make amends holds more value than the ones who act like they're not shovelling you shit while they're digging up your roots.
There's whiskey to be drunk, and battles to fight, good friends that will have your back and if you're lucky, a few good lovers to boot, so when Mother calls you home, make sure you have a few good tales to tell Her.
I'm not a flower, I'm a tree, and no matter how much bullshit you shovel at me, that's not going to change.
People who try to prune me into a flower or think a pissant little ring is going to keep me contained are going to get a limb dropped on their heads.
To steal words from a friend, live a life that's worth celebrating. None of us know how long we've got or where we might end up, so be damned sure about what kind of legacy you want to leave behind.
Some wounds can be forgiven, thoughtless words, thoughtless actions, we can all be guilty of them. But at the end of the day the one that owns their deeds and makes the choice to make amends holds more value than the ones who act like they're not shovelling you shit while they're digging up your roots.
There's whiskey to be drunk, and battles to fight, good friends that will have your back and if you're lucky, a few good lovers to boot, so when Mother calls you home, make sure you have a few good tales to tell Her.
Written By Felicia
March 22, 2018, 7:48 a.m.(5/26/1008 AR)
Even with a little distance, and time, I find myself reluctant to write this for the sake of posterity, even if I agree with Prelate Stillwater's words that it's important to do so.
I stood at the Stormwall passes, one of the dozen King's Own to be there. Our duty to help protect the shamans and healers in the passes above the city proper. Although I consider myself a devotee of the Pantheon, and it is to those Gods whom I choose to pray, I write here that I was close enough to the circle of shamans to hear their pleas to the spirits of the storm, and to see the immediate response in the striking of the enemy's fleet by lightning.
I do not find discomfort in stating this. It is not for me to know the providence nor will of such things, it does not make me question my faith in the Mother or the other gods, but I believe I would dishonor the Pantheon by denying what I saw with my eyes and heard with my ears.
Word was passed, from the city below, that the dead were rising to join our enemies host, and those beyond the grace of Lagoma and Her Mercies needed to be beheaded to insure that they would not swell the ranks of our enemy further. This is a task that I performed myself, to help insure that the healers could continue their work for the living and insure that the passes remained free in case retreat was needed.
I was there, when the cavalry came up the path around Stormwall, and the terrible chorus of voices which followed in their wake. The word 'Feast' will never hold quite the same meaning to me as once it did.
On my honor, a horde of emaciated men, most of them on all fours as if beasts and bound by leashes crawled up the path in the wake of the cavalry, the host held by the hand of a creature whose nature I can only call 'demonic', for lack of a better word. This thing stood twice the height of a normal man, with wings leathern like those of a plucked chicken. It was not a creature of flesh and bone in its seeming, but formed of a dark mist bound by armor.
This thing affixed its attention upon Dame Greenblood and proclaimed its intent to consume her, loosing its horde to consume those that remained in the pass while the wounded were evacuated. It struck down Lady Eirlys Greenmarch in its effort to reach the Dame, and from the trees emerged a thing of similar proportions, formed of motes of spring green. And it bellowed in a voice like thunder 'You do not belong here!' before it struck its counterpart with force enough to shatter its armor. What remained was then dispersed by as much of our host as could reach it or its horde.
It was after this, with the bulk of the enemy host still in the city, that the decision to raze the city to put an end to them was carried out. The loss of the city is tragic, and I look forward to seeing it rebuilt, but given what I saw in the passes, I cannot fault the decision to purge it with fire to insure that they did not gain a toehold in the North.
I stood at the Stormwall passes, one of the dozen King's Own to be there. Our duty to help protect the shamans and healers in the passes above the city proper. Although I consider myself a devotee of the Pantheon, and it is to those Gods whom I choose to pray, I write here that I was close enough to the circle of shamans to hear their pleas to the spirits of the storm, and to see the immediate response in the striking of the enemy's fleet by lightning.
I do not find discomfort in stating this. It is not for me to know the providence nor will of such things, it does not make me question my faith in the Mother or the other gods, but I believe I would dishonor the Pantheon by denying what I saw with my eyes and heard with my ears.
Word was passed, from the city below, that the dead were rising to join our enemies host, and those beyond the grace of Lagoma and Her Mercies needed to be beheaded to insure that they would not swell the ranks of our enemy further. This is a task that I performed myself, to help insure that the healers could continue their work for the living and insure that the passes remained free in case retreat was needed.
I was there, when the cavalry came up the path around Stormwall, and the terrible chorus of voices which followed in their wake. The word 'Feast' will never hold quite the same meaning to me as once it did.
On my honor, a horde of emaciated men, most of them on all fours as if beasts and bound by leashes crawled up the path in the wake of the cavalry, the host held by the hand of a creature whose nature I can only call 'demonic', for lack of a better word. This thing stood twice the height of a normal man, with wings leathern like those of a plucked chicken. It was not a creature of flesh and bone in its seeming, but formed of a dark mist bound by armor.
This thing affixed its attention upon Dame Greenblood and proclaimed its intent to consume her, loosing its horde to consume those that remained in the pass while the wounded were evacuated. It struck down Lady Eirlys Greenmarch in its effort to reach the Dame, and from the trees emerged a thing of similar proportions, formed of motes of spring green. And it bellowed in a voice like thunder 'You do not belong here!' before it struck its counterpart with force enough to shatter its armor. What remained was then dispersed by as much of our host as could reach it or its horde.
It was after this, with the bulk of the enemy host still in the city, that the decision to raze the city to put an end to them was carried out. The loss of the city is tragic, and I look forward to seeing it rebuilt, but given what I saw in the passes, I cannot fault the decision to purge it with fire to insure that they did not gain a toehold in the North.
Written By Felicia
March 18, 2018, 5:19 a.m.(5/18/1008 AR)
Our task was not glorious. But our duty is not glory. What small contingent of the King's Own went to Stormwall did their duty to the best of their ability. They guarded the shamans and the healers. We did what was needful.
Sir Tovell Telmar took wound, and has recuperated as we returned home. Among our dozen there were no casualties.
But the city was lost. Untold tens of thousands died, and one of those that we were charged to protect among the fallen. There is much work to be done, and lessons to be taken from Stormwall. Gods willing they can be learned in time.
Sir Tovell Telmar took wound, and has recuperated as we returned home. Among our dozen there were no casualties.
But the city was lost. Untold tens of thousands died, and one of those that we were charged to protect among the fallen. There is much work to be done, and lessons to be taken from Stormwall. Gods willing they can be learned in time.
Written By Felicia
March 8, 2018, 11:03 a.m.(4/27/1008 AR)
Sweet Mother another one...
This is a lesson that one should always watch in what ledger one writes things, /always/.
I don't have the words of gratitude for those who send messengers. Thank you seems inadequate.
I am humbled, and grateful. But please, if one is browsing my whites, I am assuredly set to complete the commission and about to give a smith heart pangs.
This is a lesson that one should always watch in what ledger one writes things, /always/.
I don't have the words of gratitude for those who send messengers. Thank you seems inadequate.
I am humbled, and grateful. But please, if one is browsing my whites, I am assuredly set to complete the commission and about to give a smith heart pangs.
Written By Felicia
March 8, 2018, 3:48 a.m.(4/26/1008 AR)
15,000. Well, perhaps a little less if I skimped on a few things, but, that's all that's between me and completing the commission for a rubicund greatsword.
Pity that even if Cufre sold everything currently in the shop that would only be another 5,500, I could sell the pelt that I've been holding on to, gods it will be close. Perhaps I need to work on something bigger.
Pity that even if Cufre sold everything currently in the shop that would only be another 5,500, I could sell the pelt that I've been holding on to, gods it will be close. Perhaps I need to work on something bigger.
Written By Felicia
March 5, 2018, 4:43 p.m.(4/21/1008 AR)
My will.
In the event of my death in the coming battle, my belongings should be handled as follows:
- The steel ring of the Iron Guard and peridot ring should be given to my sister, to continue the family tradition.
- My leather armour shall also belong to her.
- My rubicund armor and associated trappings, along with the stallion, Wrecking Ball, are the property of the King's Own.
- The King's Own shall have first choice of books and alcohol from my collection, anything left over should go to my siblings.
Felicia Harrow
4/21/1008
In the event of my death in the coming battle, my belongings should be handled as follows:
- The steel ring of the Iron Guard and peridot ring should be given to my sister, to continue the family tradition.
- My leather armour shall also belong to her.
- My rubicund armor and associated trappings, along with the stallion, Wrecking Ball, are the property of the King's Own.
- The King's Own shall have first choice of books and alcohol from my collection, anything left over should go to my siblings.
Felicia Harrow
4/21/1008
Written By Felicia
March 5, 2018, 7:53 a.m.(4/21/1008 AR)
I had mentioned in passing that I was somewhat disappointed, that travel away from the Tower meant leaving my glass behind. When I returned to my cell in the barracks, I found a small pouch filled with rough stones.
'What are these?' I asked,'What are their purpose?'
Apparently they are soft enough to be carved by hand, and the idea of them is that I should be able to scratch them into shape with little more than a knife. A gift, something to keep my hands occupied in the quiet hours.
Thank you, sister, I doubt they will turn out the same as my glasswork, but the sentiment is appreciated.
'What are these?' I asked,'What are their purpose?'
Apparently they are soft enough to be carved by hand, and the idea of them is that I should be able to scratch them into shape with little more than a knife. A gift, something to keep my hands occupied in the quiet hours.
Thank you, sister, I doubt they will turn out the same as my glasswork, but the sentiment is appreciated.
Please note that the scholars may take some time preparing your journal for others to read.