Written By Magnus
July 4, 2020, 11:45 a.m.(8/6/1013 AR)
Relationship Note on Piccola
War is only a necessity because humans are, at their core, base animals. We like to presume we're so elevated and higher thinking than devolving into mindsets based on greed or vengeance or simply 'that's mine and I want it'. And we give ourselves 'reasons' for justifying it. For family. For honor. For influence. That's all it really is. Justification for 'peace of mind'.
It will never go away. It will always be there. We are not nearly so enlightened as we like to think ourselves are.
It will never go away. It will always be there. We are not nearly so enlightened as we like to think ourselves are.
Written By Mabelle
July 4, 2020, 11:30 a.m.(8/6/1013 AR)
Relationship Note on Shae
I find myself lately entertaining thoughts about marriage.
I blame Baroness Fortier.
Enough with the cute babies.
I blame Baroness Fortier.
Enough with the cute babies.
Written By Amari
July 4, 2020, 11:16 a.m.(8/6/1013 AR)
I still recall when I first came to Arx, and how I marveled at all the grand events and the various contests that were held. Not that I could win even a single one; my sad little boat sank in the Tyde garden pool, I couldn't stand in the cold of the sea in the Bay of Thrax for very long nor find an oyster with a pearl hidden within, nearly choked to death on cake at the Queensrest, found a crab in the black pool at the Velenosa estate rather than a prize, half froze after being pelted by snowballs, was eliminated in the first round of a Tournament of Thorns after failing to woo a prince and I couldn't joust or spar to make it through the first rounds, nor could I even summon the nerve to brave the Telmar gauntlet.
Even being a perpetual loser at these various contests, I always won (to be very trite), for the fun had was the true treasure. Oh, but those precious few wins I've secured have been so sweet. I can't pretend otherwise. They've included a poetry joust, a sled race, a very serious contest to not laugh, several Kismet carnival games and now most improbably; a best bathing suit contest at House Laurent's pool joust. As for the joust itself, I was knocked out in the second round by Lord Drake in his very small, very purple shorts. It was a close contest, just as the best bathing suit judging must have been. I thought Princess Zara would surely win for how well she represented Oathlands fashion with all that steel, but even Uncle Norwood in his modest one piece must have been in contention.
It was a lovely occasion. Duke Cristoph is a wonderful host and event planner.
Even being a perpetual loser at these various contests, I always won (to be very trite), for the fun had was the true treasure. Oh, but those precious few wins I've secured have been so sweet. I can't pretend otherwise. They've included a poetry joust, a sled race, a very serious contest to not laugh, several Kismet carnival games and now most improbably; a best bathing suit contest at House Laurent's pool joust. As for the joust itself, I was knocked out in the second round by Lord Drake in his very small, very purple shorts. It was a close contest, just as the best bathing suit judging must have been. I thought Princess Zara would surely win for how well she represented Oathlands fashion with all that steel, but even Uncle Norwood in his modest one piece must have been in contention.
It was a lovely occasion. Duke Cristoph is a wonderful host and event planner.
Written By Quintin
July 4, 2020, 9:55 a.m.(8/5/1013 AR)
Journeyman in the Explorers. I really waited too long to get those letters of recommendation together.
A few more preparations and maybe a quick side trip before Brightshore...
A few more preparations and maybe a quick side trip before Brightshore...
Written By Lucita
July 4, 2020, 9:08 a.m.(8/5/1013 AR)
The vegetable and fruit gardens flourish as they are scattered through the Saik Tower grounds, replacing the flower beds. The Saik wards, two strong boys, almost men now, see to the distribution of the surplus, (thank Petrichor, there is a generous amount of that) amid the lowers. Just because the whirlpool is gone does not mean hunger is yet abated.
Written By Sabine
July 4, 2020, 6:31 a.m.(8/5/1013 AR)
I have high hopes for this marriage. Let us pray that those forces which have seen me widowed twice over agree with me.
The ceremony was my largest wedding to date and everything I had planned for. Father Aureth is a natural orator, truly a man capable of commanding a crowd-- a necessary feat, given the setting. I thank those who came to witness the event but I thank this gentleman particularly for his generosity in giving his time. In return, we shall see if we can outdo our last generous donation to the Faith. To my guests, it pleased me to see you, and I thank you for your time and yours gifts. May I prove worthy of them.
To she who designed our rings: you have my gratitude, always.
I must also thank my family. Cosimo, for attending when I know he would rather be in his library. Piccola, for attending when I know she would rather be with her horses. Even Cousin Reve, who understood that yelling like a common creature across a crowded shrine is something I would dislike intensely, yet did so anyway.
Nurie... but Nurie knows what is in my heart, for she is my heart. If others speak of our wedding, it will be due to her craft and care.
It was little Lord Constantin's first official duty by bearing the rings to the altar. He performed to expectation, though we must polish that bow. It has been relayed to me that he earned a great many compliments but as he grows they will be fewer, and he must do more to earn them. Still, I thank my heir for seeing to his duty as best he was able.
And, of course, my thanks to my new husband. For his loyalty, for his charm, for his dedication to my causes, in all of their variety. I trust him to see to the welfare of my people as I have done, though perhaps not always in my manner. But that is to their benefit as well.
The ceremony was my largest wedding to date and everything I had planned for. Father Aureth is a natural orator, truly a man capable of commanding a crowd-- a necessary feat, given the setting. I thank those who came to witness the event but I thank this gentleman particularly for his generosity in giving his time. In return, we shall see if we can outdo our last generous donation to the Faith. To my guests, it pleased me to see you, and I thank you for your time and yours gifts. May I prove worthy of them.
To she who designed our rings: you have my gratitude, always.
I must also thank my family. Cosimo, for attending when I know he would rather be in his library. Piccola, for attending when I know she would rather be with her horses. Even Cousin Reve, who understood that yelling like a common creature across a crowded shrine is something I would dislike intensely, yet did so anyway.
Nurie... but Nurie knows what is in my heart, for she is my heart. If others speak of our wedding, it will be due to her craft and care.
It was little Lord Constantin's first official duty by bearing the rings to the altar. He performed to expectation, though we must polish that bow. It has been relayed to me that he earned a great many compliments but as he grows they will be fewer, and he must do more to earn them. Still, I thank my heir for seeing to his duty as best he was able.
And, of course, my thanks to my new husband. For his loyalty, for his charm, for his dedication to my causes, in all of their variety. I trust him to see to the welfare of my people as I have done, though perhaps not always in my manner. But that is to their benefit as well.
Written By Sirius
July 4, 2020, 3:02 a.m.(8/5/1013 AR)
Relationship Note on Gianna
It's difficult to tell if these are saddening news or good news, but as are the Queen's wishes, the cycle continues and hopefully the next chapter in your life's just as exciting and meaningful for the denizens of the Compact.
I'm at least happy to have witnessed you as a Whisper before you moved on to focus onto different pastures, miss Delvecchio.
I'm at least happy to have witnessed you as a Whisper before you moved on to focus onto different pastures, miss Delvecchio.
Written By Shard
July 4, 2020, 12:16 a.m.(8/5/1013 AR)
Relationship Note on Piccola
So, if someone robs someone else, and then sells what they stole, that's good business?
I suppose the line between banditry and business relies on who's doing the robbing and who's getting robbed.
I suppose the line between banditry and business relies on who's doing the robbing and who's getting robbed.
Written By Jourdain
July 4, 2020, midnight(8/5/1013 AR)
I am proud to see High Hill revivified under the new House Wyvernheart, and was pleased to have some part in the undertaking. I have faith my cousins will continue to acquit themselves well.
Written By Sydney
July 3, 2020, 9:39 p.m.(8/4/1013 AR)
I extend my congratulations to those elected to the Commoners' Council proper, and my heartfelt thanks to those that turned out and threw the name of a Houseless pugilist in with their 'aye's.
Rest easy that there are names on this Council that are known to me, known to the Lowers, and they can be trusted to take their concerns seriously.
It is to the Crown, now, to see that the Council is given more opportunity to function in its proper capacity. Better still, to expand upon it. The voice of the people is at your fingertips - pray use those voices. We've seen what comes from paying more attention to threats abroad than injustice within, and it's my hope that we dare not repeat it.
< Several Lines struck through with ink >
Still, a loss is a loss. What better way to take the sting off than with some drink and some company?
None better.
Rest easy that there are names on this Council that are known to me, known to the Lowers, and they can be trusted to take their concerns seriously.
It is to the Crown, now, to see that the Council is given more opportunity to function in its proper capacity. Better still, to expand upon it. The voice of the people is at your fingertips - pray use those voices. We've seen what comes from paying more attention to threats abroad than injustice within, and it's my hope that we dare not repeat it.
< Several Lines struck through with ink >
Still, a loss is a loss. What better way to take the sting off than with some drink and some company?
None better.
Written By Tanith
July 3, 2020, 9:33 p.m.(8/4/1013 AR)
Well ... shit.
To all that voted... Thank you.
To all that voted... Thank you.
Written By Lucita
July 3, 2020, 7:30 p.m.(8/4/1013 AR)
Relationship Note on Calypso
Duchess, Duchess, Duchess.... The things we get into and the things we don't. Perhaps another day we'll have that discussion, maybe with a bottle of wine and a long session in a soaking pool to make it palatable.
Written By Piccola
July 3, 2020, 6:58 p.m.(8/4/1013 AR)
War is a biological necessity of the first importance, a regulative element in the life of mankind which cannot be dispensed with. It is not only a biological law but a moral obligation and, as such, an indispensable factor in civilization. It automatically sets in motion throughout society those irresistible forces seeking progress and perfection as a defense against the barbarous ends our foes seek for us.
Written By Piccola
July 3, 2020, 6:52 p.m.(8/4/1013 AR)
To take something from a person and keep it for oneself is robbery.
To take something from one person and then turn it over to another in exchange for as much money as you can get is business.
Robbery is stupid because it is satisfied with a single, frequently dangerous profit; whereas in business it can be doubled without danger.
To take something from one person and then turn it over to another in exchange for as much money as you can get is business.
Robbery is stupid because it is satisfied with a single, frequently dangerous profit; whereas in business it can be doubled without danger.
Written By Filshiar
July 3, 2020, 4:28 p.m.(8/4/1013 AR)
Relationship Note on Eleanor
My Lord Commander is a rock of good sense and strength in these uncertain times. I am proud that I can follow one of such quality.
Written By Sorrel
July 3, 2020, 11:09 a.m.(8/4/1013 AR)
Relationship Note on Aleksei
It's not that often that I end up with assassins on stage during a performance, but when I do, I stay in character and let Aleksei Morgan take them out for me.
Written By Sorrel
July 3, 2020, 11:06 a.m.(8/4/1013 AR)
I love jousting. There's just something about riding a horse full tilt at a friend in an effort to knock him sprawling off his horse without getting knocked sprawling off one's own horse that's glorious. It was a close match between Lord Alecstazi and me, but it was glorious, and no one knew how it might end until the very last.
It delights me to make a good show of things.
It delights me to make a good show of things.
Written By Gianna
July 3, 2020, 9:39 a.m.(8/3/1013 AR)
I have retired! From Whisper House. We remain staunch allies and I look forward to our continuing partnership. I learned much during my time as a Whisper, and those lessons have taken me very far indeed --- Whisper House has my eternal gratitude.
So. Party?
So. Party?
Written By Sirius
July 3, 2020, 9:04 a.m.(8/3/1013 AR)
Hello, scholar,
Here we are again, in the cyclical act of coming to you at the beginning of a month fraught with calamity. Why is it that I only ever come to you in moments of despair and horribleness? Perhaps it makes sense; perhaps you're here to chronicle the fall of man in some ironic twist of the pen. Well, here it is, the declining spiral in written form of one Sirius Valardin.
I've made the longest trip I've ever done from Sanctum. Even here, on Arx, I take solace in knowing the winds of the Telmarch still reach me, however brisk and dwindled along the way; however mixed with the oaken touch of the Crownlands, still, they started off on those swift, golden fields of oats and wheat. That is all that matters.
I went East, far East, into the domain of Thrax and its isles.
Here, no such gale of home ever did reach, I had never felt so alone. At every other moment, jetties of water crashed upon the shoreline crags, as hard a boom as a ram into some iron-bore, darkling door. I could feel the salt digging into my face, the weight they gave my eyes, the taste impregnated into my tastebuds. Food didn't taste the same, water certainly didn't either. There was a greasy quality to my hair - more than the usual - and I had a chafing discomfort in my hindquarters since the very moment my feet set foot on this archipelago's cay bristling with ruinous rumor and ghastly riddles from the loquacious, scarce populace there living.
From that sinister wharf, there, high above; there, perched upon the isle's moor, I could see the once plenteous keep of Grimhall, now, a darker reflection of its former, palatial glory.
Singular, unsettling tales on our way up the crag-divided fell told by one garrulous helmsman suggested the castle itself was an abode of the damned, full of ghosts and some fabulous, unreckonable power. Naturally, I am a Prince of Sanctum, these histories did not frighten me and, on the contrary, emboldened me to get to the secret of these superstitious folks. To bring clarity and zeal to these evidently misguided few.
Once the doors parted and Duke Valdemar welcomed us inside personally, some things didn't make sense. A man of his stature, posture, living in such a bedraggled home, it didn't fit. The prospect -- it grazed against my common understanding of things.
Led inside, it soon all made sense. His mother, the dowry Duchess, was much like a Queen within her own domain. In spite of her advanced age, there's a light to her being, a candle that flickers against encroaching darkness and the inexorable passage of time. It's as if the whole of the keep is kept up beneath this sole, illimitable foundation of a woman. She wades through her servants like a bladesman drags a flourish of blows in the din of battle, and commands such a stately presence it surprised me she addressed me as her highness, and not the other way around.
With this newfound knowledge, the myriad of questions unanswered in my mind were snuffed out. This awesome woman was the answer to all the light to be found in the old Grimhall keep, the only reason it exists still I wager.
I couldn't consolidate sleep in my rest there, but I managed to confer to one kindly servant that I'd require a lavatory facing strictly West, to Sanctum, if I was to make it through the night. Luckily, they provided. With some more luck, my next visit will be less shrouded in mystery and, while there's some details to the visitation itself of which I simply cannot speak, I too pray that it'll be more associated with the having of a good time and less-so the having of a bad time.
That's it from me, custodian,
Here's to hope, that my next entry is of good, happier things.
Here we are again, in the cyclical act of coming to you at the beginning of a month fraught with calamity. Why is it that I only ever come to you in moments of despair and horribleness? Perhaps it makes sense; perhaps you're here to chronicle the fall of man in some ironic twist of the pen. Well, here it is, the declining spiral in written form of one Sirius Valardin.
I've made the longest trip I've ever done from Sanctum. Even here, on Arx, I take solace in knowing the winds of the Telmarch still reach me, however brisk and dwindled along the way; however mixed with the oaken touch of the Crownlands, still, they started off on those swift, golden fields of oats and wheat. That is all that matters.
I went East, far East, into the domain of Thrax and its isles.
Here, no such gale of home ever did reach, I had never felt so alone. At every other moment, jetties of water crashed upon the shoreline crags, as hard a boom as a ram into some iron-bore, darkling door. I could feel the salt digging into my face, the weight they gave my eyes, the taste impregnated into my tastebuds. Food didn't taste the same, water certainly didn't either. There was a greasy quality to my hair - more than the usual - and I had a chafing discomfort in my hindquarters since the very moment my feet set foot on this archipelago's cay bristling with ruinous rumor and ghastly riddles from the loquacious, scarce populace there living.
From that sinister wharf, there, high above; there, perched upon the isle's moor, I could see the once plenteous keep of Grimhall, now, a darker reflection of its former, palatial glory.
Singular, unsettling tales on our way up the crag-divided fell told by one garrulous helmsman suggested the castle itself was an abode of the damned, full of ghosts and some fabulous, unreckonable power. Naturally, I am a Prince of Sanctum, these histories did not frighten me and, on the contrary, emboldened me to get to the secret of these superstitious folks. To bring clarity and zeal to these evidently misguided few.
Once the doors parted and Duke Valdemar welcomed us inside personally, some things didn't make sense. A man of his stature, posture, living in such a bedraggled home, it didn't fit. The prospect -- it grazed against my common understanding of things.
Led inside, it soon all made sense. His mother, the dowry Duchess, was much like a Queen within her own domain. In spite of her advanced age, there's a light to her being, a candle that flickers against encroaching darkness and the inexorable passage of time. It's as if the whole of the keep is kept up beneath this sole, illimitable foundation of a woman. She wades through her servants like a bladesman drags a flourish of blows in the din of battle, and commands such a stately presence it surprised me she addressed me as her highness, and not the other way around.
With this newfound knowledge, the myriad of questions unanswered in my mind were snuffed out. This awesome woman was the answer to all the light to be found in the old Grimhall keep, the only reason it exists still I wager.
I couldn't consolidate sleep in my rest there, but I managed to confer to one kindly servant that I'd require a lavatory facing strictly West, to Sanctum, if I was to make it through the night. Luckily, they provided. With some more luck, my next visit will be less shrouded in mystery and, while there's some details to the visitation itself of which I simply cannot speak, I too pray that it'll be more associated with the having of a good time and less-so the having of a bad time.
That's it from me, custodian,
Here's to hope, that my next entry is of good, happier things.
Written By Ilira
July 3, 2020, 5:39 a.m.(8/3/1013 AR)
Relationship Note on Valencia
The Shrine of the Thirteenth, it seems, blesses those that seek with the sweetest surprises.
Princess Valencia was a subversion of most my expectations in wondrous ways. Her open humility was so, I initially suspected some modicum of artifice. No--it is simply her inclination. She is silk over silver as other Foxes are, with a grace and sagacity to her word that belies the notes of innocence. Our chemistry came quick, through the eyes.
We are stars, each of us, you of particular effulgence. Rise on. I am endeared and humbled by you, and perhaps, in your company, I too may find my apex.
Princess Valencia was a subversion of most my expectations in wondrous ways. Her open humility was so, I initially suspected some modicum of artifice. No--it is simply her inclination. She is silk over silver as other Foxes are, with a grace and sagacity to her word that belies the notes of innocence. Our chemistry came quick, through the eyes.
We are stars, each of us, you of particular effulgence. Rise on. I am endeared and humbled by you, and perhaps, in your company, I too may find my apex.
Please note that the scholars may take some time preparing your journal for others to read.