Written By Malcolm
Feb. 3, 2019, 10:26 a.m.(7/4/1010 AR)
Relationship Note on Martino
A real charismatic fellow. Smart too. Told me that "alliances are binding for longer. Based on personal trust, than mutual... need as perhaps a more militristic one would have." Which, like, makes sense as far as a noble point of view goes.
Written By Malcolm
Jan. 18, 2019, 8:30 p.m.(5/20/1010 AR)
Some days, Scholar, I really have no idea what in Elysium I'm even doing.
Written By Malcolm
Dec. 28, 2018, 11:36 a.m.(4/4/1010 AR)
It's a pretty strange thing, and I don't know if I'm the only one to notice it. After that first month of being in the city - things get quiet. Real quiet. I'm pretty glad that it happened to get quiet as soon as the weather started to change toward the better. You seem to fall out of notice, a little, and your name's not on everyone's mouth anymore. Guess that's what they consider settling in, maybe? Honestly, between us - Scholar? I don't feel all that settled. I feel restless.
Written By Malcolm
Dec. 24, 2018, 8:53 p.m.(3/25/1010 AR)
This hat - makes some kind of statement, it does. It says that the fellow wearing ain't afraid of a thing.
Or maybe that he's too happy-go-lucky to care.
It's the hat of an adventurer, it is. A cunning hat that's good friends with this canny blade of mine.
Or maybe that he's too happy-go-lucky to care.
It's the hat of an adventurer, it is. A cunning hat that's good friends with this canny blade of mine.
Written By Malcolm
Dec. 19, 2018, 2:44 p.m.(3/14/1010 AR)
Relationship Note on Morrighan
To conversations that happen when one's trying not to get caught in the rain. To more questions that rise from such moments.
Written By Malcolm
Dec. 18, 2018, 1:23 p.m.(3/12/1010 AR)
Relationship Note on Reese
Sometimes, even if those answers don't make any sense at all - the moment's still a good thing. Fireside conversations with a new friend.
Written By Malcolm
Dec. 18, 2018, 1:22 p.m.(3/12/1010 AR)
Relationship Note on Iseulet
Has been a real help to House Shepherd. And a friend to me, even if I'm still waiting for cold revenge to come my way.
Written By Malcolm
Dec. 18, 2018, 1:13 p.m.(3/12/1010 AR)
Gods.
I was thinking about what to tell the Scholars to write down, sitting at the Shrine of the Lost, studying that picture of the thirteen-pointed star. Trying to pray, because at least you understand faith without questioning it. You understand prayer. It's hard. When you know - deep down, deep into the bottom of your gut to the top of your head and the whole of your heart - when something's so wrong in the world on a certain day. When you wake up and you ain't sure of what happened, when it happened, how it happened - just that it did. That the dread of it fills you up and makes you pace the walls of the library in a manor that still doesn't feel like yours, just the memory of the guy before you.
When you bundle yourself up to step outside in poisonous snow - not knowing why it happened, just accepting that it did. Hoping you're not going to make yourself crazy with the wondering. But, you ain't. You're not that perceptive, you're just the run-of-the-mill curious, but you're still feeling like that thing that happened and this day that you've felt like you lived through still ain't over. When you get stories - but that's all they feel like. You're faced with new words and new ideas to just take in. Nod and smile, boy, and take this as your new duties and responsibilities. Take it with honor. Or whatever he'd say - using those words in a different order every time.
You figure it's fine. It's all fine. It's easier to belly up at a bar with a fire and take a drink of whiskey.
Until, yeah, it finally happens. That other shoe what's been hanging on - it drops. That pendulum swings. That wheel turns. So head out with the rest of them to look at the remains of something that you didn't even know was a thing that was standing in the city. Crowded in like mourners. Everyone's crying, with that sadness eating them up inside and you feel it too - only you're the idiot that smiles at funerals. You don't know what's happening. You hear whispers, barely, but that cold rain drowns them out. You had questions, but they wash away. You just have a feeling like you stepping into a massive, steaming pile of trouble to come and that shit ain't coming off your boots anytime soon. It's a hard thing. To explain what you don't know to some Scholar to write down in a White.
It's not that I don't want answers, cause I do. But none of that comes easy. I just want to know where to start. More important, I need to know what to start _asking._
I was thinking about what to tell the Scholars to write down, sitting at the Shrine of the Lost, studying that picture of the thirteen-pointed star. Trying to pray, because at least you understand faith without questioning it. You understand prayer. It's hard. When you know - deep down, deep into the bottom of your gut to the top of your head and the whole of your heart - when something's so wrong in the world on a certain day. When you wake up and you ain't sure of what happened, when it happened, how it happened - just that it did. That the dread of it fills you up and makes you pace the walls of the library in a manor that still doesn't feel like yours, just the memory of the guy before you.
When you bundle yourself up to step outside in poisonous snow - not knowing why it happened, just accepting that it did. Hoping you're not going to make yourself crazy with the wondering. But, you ain't. You're not that perceptive, you're just the run-of-the-mill curious, but you're still feeling like that thing that happened and this day that you've felt like you lived through still ain't over. When you get stories - but that's all they feel like. You're faced with new words and new ideas to just take in. Nod and smile, boy, and take this as your new duties and responsibilities. Take it with honor. Or whatever he'd say - using those words in a different order every time.
You figure it's fine. It's all fine. It's easier to belly up at a bar with a fire and take a drink of whiskey.
Until, yeah, it finally happens. That other shoe what's been hanging on - it drops. That pendulum swings. That wheel turns. So head out with the rest of them to look at the remains of something that you didn't even know was a thing that was standing in the city. Crowded in like mourners. Everyone's crying, with that sadness eating them up inside and you feel it too - only you're the idiot that smiles at funerals. You don't know what's happening. You hear whispers, barely, but that cold rain drowns them out. You had questions, but they wash away. You just have a feeling like you stepping into a massive, steaming pile of trouble to come and that shit ain't coming off your boots anytime soon. It's a hard thing. To explain what you don't know to some Scholar to write down in a White.
It's not that I don't want answers, cause I do. But none of that comes easy. I just want to know where to start. More important, I need to know what to start _asking._
Written By Malcolm
Dec. 14, 2018, 11:35 p.m.(3/5/1010 AR)
Relationship Note on Morrighan
All right, I'll say this: maybe not all redheads are known for their (tempers) freckles - but at least one (her) is also known for drinking a Crownlands Duke under the table and back up again. Although, is that any surprise? No.
... my head, gods.
I need coffee. Please, someone. Send coffee.
... my head, gods.
I need coffee. Please, someone. Send coffee.
Written By Malcolm
Dec. 10, 2018, 1:16 p.m.(2/24/1010 AR)
Relationship Note on Iseulet
All of your teeth, your nose, and both your eyes. Real lucky. Still sorry about that.
Written By Malcolm
Dec. 9, 2018, 4:19 p.m.(2/22/1010 AR)
Relationship Note on Jennyva
Lady Jennyva Shepherd. The Diplomat of Graypeak and our Minister of Concerns. Really, she's another valued part of the House. She makes sure that everything's going fine. She also does a lot. She should slow down - but she wouldn't listen to me even if I asked.
Written By Malcolm
Dec. 9, 2018, 4:18 p.m.(2/22/1010 AR)
Relationship Note on Wyatt
Lord Wyatt Shepherd. Cousin. Maybe my ninth cousin, eh, I'm still not too sure. He's the Voice of Graypeak and our Minister of Coin. He also really likes to write about a variety of intensely intellectual subjects that go right over my head. That's fine. Even if it makes me want to drink to forget everything I've learned about livestock trading.
Written By Malcolm
Dec. 9, 2018, 4:15 p.m.(2/22/1010 AR)
Relationship Note on Simon
Simon Hillock. Bon's friend and mine. He's the author and bard of the many exploits of the Valiant Effort, now? He's the Historian of Graypeak, and our Minister of Oaths. Welcome to the new life, Si.
Written By Malcolm
Dec. 9, 2018, 4:13 p.m.(2/22/1010 AR)
Relationship Note on Bonnie
Bonnie Crownfall. Bonny Bonnie the Black. Now, Lady Bonnie Shepherd, Sword of Graypeak. Minister of Military Forces and Admiral of Graypeak's Seadogs. She's gone far, she has. With a long way to go. Couldn't do it without her.
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