Written By Sydney
April 1, 2021, 6:01 a.m.(3/18/1015 AR)
I recognize the irony in these words spilling from the pen of a woman whose living is earned entirely by roughing folk up, but it seems to me that entirely too often, we make our minds up too quickly about what constitutes an enemy.
Seems to me that when we sit in the dark of a flame that's down to its embers, everything that jumps out appears a shade.
If they strike first, there's nothing for it.
But how many times lashing out first does it take before we're the ones in the shadows?
Seems to me that when we sit in the dark of a flame that's down to its embers, everything that jumps out appears a shade.
If they strike first, there's nothing for it.
But how many times lashing out first does it take before we're the ones in the shadows?
Written By Sydney
March 30, 2021, 9:12 p.m.(3/15/1015 AR)
I stare at the map of Arvum, and trace the paths I've walked in life. With some noteworthy exceptions, they all encircle Arx.
That the world should be so vast and my travels so infrequent feels often like some manner of cruel joke. Would that I could but sprout wings, and visit every place on the map that I've marked as a place to visit. Flights of fancy aside, a steadfast mare will do, with the occasional boat ride.
There's something mortifying about the thought of spending my entire life standing (or sitting, or lying) still.
I sorely need to scratch this itch.
That the world should be so vast and my travels so infrequent feels often like some manner of cruel joke. Would that I could but sprout wings, and visit every place on the map that I've marked as a place to visit. Flights of fancy aside, a steadfast mare will do, with the occasional boat ride.
There's something mortifying about the thought of spending my entire life standing (or sitting, or lying) still.
I sorely need to scratch this itch.
Written By Sydney
March 22, 2021, 10:39 p.m.(2/28/1015 AR)
One of my least favorite things about swords, axes, pikes, and knives is that they so frequently point in the wrong direction.
Written By Sydney
March 20, 2021, 5:03 p.m.(2/23/1015 AR)
Paths diverge when you least expect them to. Everything that I once held to be self-evident is in question - if this is the proper way to live, then why has it failed me over, and over, and over again?
I'm thankful for the sand and the snow, for granting me even the most temporary of reprieves from having to examine it too closely, knowing I won't enjoy the experience.
I cannot change myself without losing something. I cannot remain myself without losing something.
I'm thankful for the sand and the snow, for granting me even the most temporary of reprieves from having to examine it too closely, knowing I won't enjoy the experience.
I cannot change myself without losing something. I cannot remain myself without losing something.
Written By Sydney
March 17, 2021, 2:58 p.m.(2/17/1015 AR)
My wrist aches.
From turning pages fruitlessly in search of information that may not even exist.
From writing at length, more in a day than in the past several weeks of journals.
...and because my wrist aches as a matter of a course. If you pursue martial efforts, let none pressure you into overworking yourself. The consequences will be with you for the rest of your days.
From turning pages fruitlessly in search of information that may not even exist.
From writing at length, more in a day than in the past several weeks of journals.
...and because my wrist aches as a matter of a course. If you pursue martial efforts, let none pressure you into overworking yourself. The consequences will be with you for the rest of your days.
Written By Sydney
March 13, 2021, 3:13 p.m.(2/9/1015 AR)
It was good to hear some of the opinions in the Salon about Eurus, and through the discussions I think things have come into crystal clarity.
When it comes to the matter of any peace with Eurus, I feel as though we have made our decision quite clear. At this point, there is no peace that can be brokered without a decisive victory or a crushing defeat that could be called anything close to sincere peace, and that means what it is has ever meant:
Blood. Blood enough to make Sungreet look like a dress rehearsal, I suspect.
And I know on whose hands that blood shall fall.
When it comes to the matter of any peace with Eurus, I feel as though we have made our decision quite clear. At this point, there is no peace that can be brokered without a decisive victory or a crushing defeat that could be called anything close to sincere peace, and that means what it is has ever meant:
Blood. Blood enough to make Sungreet look like a dress rehearsal, I suspect.
And I know on whose hands that blood shall fall.
Written By Sydney
March 12, 2021, 7:56 a.m.(2/6/1015 AR)
My lungs are full of dust, and my hands are covered in smudged ink and smears of soot. I swear, it all looked dry when I leafed through the many volumes, but the repetition of leafing through that many texts is, apparently, an experience that accumulates rather quickly.
I have a newfound respect for the work scholars do, I will say that, if nothing else.
I have a newfound respect for the work scholars do, I will say that, if nothing else.
Written By Sydney
March 8, 2021, 12:31 a.m.(1/26/1015 AR)
Went and got myself sick, somehow.
Just the right time of year for it, I suppose. I suppose I ought to have paid more heed to wearing my cloak more frequently when dashing from bar to bar. It's nothing debilitating, but a case of the sniffles can be absolute murder on trying to get anything done for someone who spends time on martial pursuits. It turns out, if you can't breathe through the snot, it's hard to actually make an honest go at the usual exercises, and my nose has been through enough as it is without adding this to the mix.
On the plus side, it's allowed me to slow down and fix myself some proper meals. I've been neglecting my cooking in favor of enjoying others' for a time, but there's just something so utterly rewarding about making yourself a nice, hearty soup made in just the fashion you enjoy it most. Just enough leek, just enough spice.
I'm sure I'll be up and about again by tomorrow, but for now, I'm merely enjoying the view of the snow from beyond my window, wrapped in a blanket and letting the heat of this bowl warm my lap before my next bite. It needs time to cool.
Perhaps I needed time to cool, too.
Just the right time of year for it, I suppose. I suppose I ought to have paid more heed to wearing my cloak more frequently when dashing from bar to bar. It's nothing debilitating, but a case of the sniffles can be absolute murder on trying to get anything done for someone who spends time on martial pursuits. It turns out, if you can't breathe through the snot, it's hard to actually make an honest go at the usual exercises, and my nose has been through enough as it is without adding this to the mix.
On the plus side, it's allowed me to slow down and fix myself some proper meals. I've been neglecting my cooking in favor of enjoying others' for a time, but there's just something so utterly rewarding about making yourself a nice, hearty soup made in just the fashion you enjoy it most. Just enough leek, just enough spice.
I'm sure I'll be up and about again by tomorrow, but for now, I'm merely enjoying the view of the snow from beyond my window, wrapped in a blanket and letting the heat of this bowl warm my lap before my next bite. It needs time to cool.
Perhaps I needed time to cool, too.
Written By Sydney
March 4, 2021, 9:05 p.m.(1/20/1015 AR)
1015.
It still seems so strange to write, but the passage of time marches inexorably forward. I've grown weary of this new habit of mine to look backward, if only because so much of my life until now had been looking forward. It's hard not to look forward as time sweeps you along with it, as you cling to your fingernails to your own survival.
I wonder often about that which I can't control - decisions I've long since made, things I saw and chose not to see. More than half a lifetime effectively blind to the world around me, and all of that changed by a pissy, secretive woman. Changed further by another who accepted me for who I was, and another who helped inform who I was. I really need someone younger than me to swoop in and change my life for a change. I suppose with the march of time, that's more and more likely to happen.
It'd be a hell of a thing to say I feel 'old' at twenty-two, but I sure as hell don't feel the brash eighteen year old, either.
Four years can change everything. Four years can also change not a sharding thing.
I relish and lament both of these statements.
It still seems so strange to write, but the passage of time marches inexorably forward. I've grown weary of this new habit of mine to look backward, if only because so much of my life until now had been looking forward. It's hard not to look forward as time sweeps you along with it, as you cling to your fingernails to your own survival.
I wonder often about that which I can't control - decisions I've long since made, things I saw and chose not to see. More than half a lifetime effectively blind to the world around me, and all of that changed by a pissy, secretive woman. Changed further by another who accepted me for who I was, and another who helped inform who I was. I really need someone younger than me to swoop in and change my life for a change. I suppose with the march of time, that's more and more likely to happen.
It'd be a hell of a thing to say I feel 'old' at twenty-two, but I sure as hell don't feel the brash eighteen year old, either.
Four years can change everything. Four years can also change not a sharding thing.
I relish and lament both of these statements.
Written By Sydney
March 3, 2021, 12:04 p.m.(1/17/1015 AR)
One would think that after having seen me fight and hold my own on multiple occasions, the calls to dissuade me from continuing the martial pursuit of 'an inferior craft' would eventually stop.
I can hold a sword about as well as I sit a horse, and the mare who favors me would - if she could speak - be all too happy to inform any who asks that this is 'About as well as a reasonably capable child'.
Do not think that I am blind to the shortcomings of using only my hands - I am quite aware of them, and I am more than comfortable to embrace those shortcomings, just as a spear-wielder or archer accepts that when they've lost their range advantage, they're imperiled. Where you see weaknesses, I see strengths that you have yet to consider.
Or, to put it in more accessible speech:
Mind your own sharding business, and trouble me not unless you can put me on my back with your weapon of choice.
I can hold a sword about as well as I sit a horse, and the mare who favors me would - if she could speak - be all too happy to inform any who asks that this is 'About as well as a reasonably capable child'.
Do not think that I am blind to the shortcomings of using only my hands - I am quite aware of them, and I am more than comfortable to embrace those shortcomings, just as a spear-wielder or archer accepts that when they've lost their range advantage, they're imperiled. Where you see weaknesses, I see strengths that you have yet to consider.
Or, to put it in more accessible speech:
Mind your own sharding business, and trouble me not unless you can put me on my back with your weapon of choice.
Written By Sydney
Feb. 26, 2021, 3:43 p.m.(1/7/1015 AR)
Winter is lovely, beautiful even, when one steps away from the confines of the city and out into the wilds.
I will never truly be able to look upon it fondly. It always heralded a time of conservation and fasting, making do with the crop yields we'd stored away, often insufficiently. I was a farmer's daughter, but our yields were always low, and I was too young and unlearned to do more than the manual labor. I recall a particularly dire winter where many of our crops were lost to blight in the prior season. There is an upper end on what one can be expected to creatively create with leeks and broth.
My clothes were baggy on me, come spring. After that, I asked my father to take me with him when he hunted. More hunters meant more food when our crops failed.
When I came to Arx, my disposition to winter was given an altogether different context. Nothing to hunt. Nothing to gather. Nothing to scavenge. Coin dictated meals. Those with it flourished, and those without it were left in squalor in the alleys, lips chapped, fingers and toes messily covered to unsuccessfully protect against the frostbite.
Such an imperfect Dream, yet.
I will never truly be able to look upon it fondly. It always heralded a time of conservation and fasting, making do with the crop yields we'd stored away, often insufficiently. I was a farmer's daughter, but our yields were always low, and I was too young and unlearned to do more than the manual labor. I recall a particularly dire winter where many of our crops were lost to blight in the prior season. There is an upper end on what one can be expected to creatively create with leeks and broth.
My clothes were baggy on me, come spring. After that, I asked my father to take me with him when he hunted. More hunters meant more food when our crops failed.
When I came to Arx, my disposition to winter was given an altogether different context. Nothing to hunt. Nothing to gather. Nothing to scavenge. Coin dictated meals. Those with it flourished, and those without it were left in squalor in the alleys, lips chapped, fingers and toes messily covered to unsuccessfully protect against the frostbite.
Such an imperfect Dream, yet.
Written By Sydney
Feb. 22, 2021, 11:51 p.m.(12/28/1014 AR)
The People's Tournament concluded, and I have to say that I am quite grateful for it - it kept me from paying much heed to the parade of ill news from the street criers and the journals of others, which I've taken less a habit of reading but took pause to do so, today.
When I see grief for those who I did not know well, I end up in a truly conflicted frame of mind.
Sorrow, for not having known them better, if at all.
Guilt, for not having known them better, if at all.
Relief, for not having known them better, if at all.
The mind is a selfish thing, scholars. That we should feel relief in situations like this is a cruelty, but it is an honest cruelty. We feel less grief for those we don't know - and it's in understanding this that we can bring ourselves closer to seeing the value all who live in this Dream. For most every death, there are those who grieve as keenly. We do not experience them equally, but they exist equally.
When I see grief for those who I did not know well, I end up in a truly conflicted frame of mind.
Sorrow, for not having known them better, if at all.
Guilt, for not having known them better, if at all.
Relief, for not having known them better, if at all.
The mind is a selfish thing, scholars. That we should feel relief in situations like this is a cruelty, but it is an honest cruelty. We feel less grief for those we don't know - and it's in understanding this that we can bring ourselves closer to seeing the value all who live in this Dream. For most every death, there are those who grieve as keenly. We do not experience them equally, but they exist equally.
Written By Sydney
Feb. 19, 2021, 12:10 a.m.(12/17/1014 AR)
It's a vindicating thing, to succeed at something several years later that you failed at so utterly before.
My head is still pounding, and I need to drink some water before I sleep, but that was one hell of an evening and one hell of an afterparty. A messenger or two before bed, I think.
My head is still pounding, and I need to drink some water before I sleep, but that was one hell of an evening and one hell of an afterparty. A messenger or two before bed, I think.
Written By Sydney
Feb. 15, 2021, 9:18 p.m.(12/11/1014 AR)
Though I have participated in many legs of the Peoples' Tournament, this is the first time that I've managed to snatch a win. I'm not so headstrong as to think the race was never in doubt, nor so humble as to say that its outcome was solely the result of luck. I suppose what I'm saying is that it's... nice to see ones particular set of skills come together in a series of modest victories, and to watch them pay dividends.
Josephine paved the way for this, and I hope she would be pleased with the job that Anisha Whisper is doing in carrying on this tradition in her place. I am. I know that when I was struggling to even keep my head out of the gutter, the Peoples' Tournament was a welcome distraction. A chance to get food in belly, a chance to mingle with those who I'd otherwise not encounter, and this year is proving no different.
I hope to see some of my fellow competitors outside of the confines of this race.
Share a drink with me - I'm buying.
Josephine paved the way for this, and I hope she would be pleased with the job that Anisha Whisper is doing in carrying on this tradition in her place. I am. I know that when I was struggling to even keep my head out of the gutter, the Peoples' Tournament was a welcome distraction. A chance to get food in belly, a chance to mingle with those who I'd otherwise not encounter, and this year is proving no different.
I hope to see some of my fellow competitors outside of the confines of this race.
Share a drink with me - I'm buying.
Written By Sydney
Feb. 15, 2021, 12:52 a.m.(12/9/1014 AR)
The nights are growing colder again, and the first snows are a scant few weeks away. I've made mention of this before, but I'll make special mention of it again - for this winter, and for every winter that it doesn't slip my mind to commit it to writing:
If you have clothing to spare, consider donating them to the less fortunate - I assure you that not a single person in the Lower Boroughs minds that it's already been seen worn at a banquet or party, merely that it's free of holes and is able to keep them warm through the nights.
If you have clothing to spare, consider donating them to the less fortunate - I assure you that not a single person in the Lower Boroughs minds that it's already been seen worn at a banquet or party, merely that it's free of holes and is able to keep them warm through the nights.
Written By Sydney
Feb. 12, 2021, 11:26 p.m.(12/5/1014 AR)
I have truly excelled at finding the smallest fish imaginable.
For the record, they still tasted excellent.
For the record, they still tasted excellent.
Written By Sydney
Feb. 10, 2021, 1:37 a.m.(11/27/1014 AR)
I may have taken second in the wagon race, but not for a lack of effort from Mahogany. I swear, I don't know what I did to deserve that horse tolerating me half so well as she does.
It might be the fact that I keep sneaking her beer.
It's probably that I keep sneaking her beer.
It might be the fact that I keep sneaking her beer.
It's probably that I keep sneaking her beer.
Written By Sydney
Feb. 9, 2021, 9:33 a.m.(11/26/1014 AR)
If there comes an age at which we have the answers to how to react in every situation, I believe I should like to know how long I have to wait before it comes. Remind me to ask one of our longer-lived allies.
Written By Sydney
Feb. 7, 2021, 11:24 p.m.(11/23/1014 AR)
I do enjoy a good voyage. After spending the majority of my life landlocked - truly, until the past couple of years - it's still quite the novelty to cruise the waves, particularly as dozen-odd years of drink have given me plenty of resistance to caring about feeling dizzy. Fine company certainly never hurts the prospects, either.
Regardless, a pleasure to have my feet squarely in Arx again.
Time to catch up on the word about town, and that means grabbing a sip at the local taverns and bars, or perhaps a spar is in order.
Regardless, a pleasure to have my feet squarely in Arx again.
Time to catch up on the word about town, and that means grabbing a sip at the local taverns and bars, or perhaps a spar is in order.
Written By Sydney
Feb. 5, 2021, 10:55 p.m.(11/19/1014 AR)
The cost of war is not coin, not ships, not swords, not supplies, not strategy tables, not maps, not diplomacy, and not time.
To go to war is to trade lives as currency, and those are debts that can't be repaid once incurred.
I'm no pacifist. But when I can, I don't spend my time turning over hornets nests, kicking anthills, and taunting rabid animals. Were I to be that manner of lamentable person, I would fight my own battles instead of hiding behind armies and ideologies to do so.
To go to war is to trade lives as currency, and those are debts that can't be repaid once incurred.
I'm no pacifist. But when I can, I don't spend my time turning over hornets nests, kicking anthills, and taunting rabid animals. Were I to be that manner of lamentable person, I would fight my own battles instead of hiding behind armies and ideologies to do so.
Please note that the scholars may take some time preparing your journal for others to read.