Written By Lucita
June 2, 2020, 7:49 p.m.(5/26/1013 AR)
Relationship Note on Sparte
There are far better ways to sweep a woman off her feet and make her fall for you.
Written By Vanora
Dec. 5, 2019, 5:46 p.m.(4/27/1012 AR)
Relationship Note on Sparte
I have not had much time for perusing the whites lately but I spent a little while at it today, curious about the comments the citizenry would have on recent events.
Instead though I found myself focusing on Sparte's latest entry, and thinking that I am entirely in agreement.
Instead though I found myself focusing on Sparte's latest entry, and thinking that I am entirely in agreement.
Written By Domonico
Nov. 3, 2019, 6:56 p.m.(2/19/1012 AR)
Relationship Note on Sparte
Well fought in the Rite of Gloria. It was a short but brutal fight and I thank you for reminding me to keep my head in combat, least I drop my guard and get well and truly thrashed by you.
Written By Shard
Oct. 30, 2019, 9:07 p.m.(2/11/1012 AR)
Relationship Note on Sparte
I think I've made this comparison before, but what the hell.
When you're target shooting, on your own, you can take as long as you want to line up your shot, judge the wind, judge the distance, steady your hand. But once that arrow's left the string, you're not in control of it anymore. You've made your decision, you've set your course. You can't undo your shot. You can only wait until it lands, and see whether you hit what you were aiming at, and how well, or whether you missed, and how badly. Studying the results of what you've done, and whether you succeeded or fucked up, and especially /how/ you succeeded or fucked up, is how you learn to do things better. Being willing to change how you aim and fire is how you improve. If you've put in the work, and if you're at least a little bit lucky, you might manage to make the shot when it really counts, and not when you're just practicing. Maybe. There's no guarantee.
But if you never take that shot in the first place, if you stand there all your life just worrying whether or not you'll succeed or fail, and never actually loose the arrow, then you're never going to learn anything, and you're never going to get better, and you're never going to find out how to deal with what happens when you, inevitably, fail. And in that case it doesn't matter if you could've made the shot when it counted, because you were too afraid to even start the journey in the first place.
When you're target shooting, on your own, you can take as long as you want to line up your shot, judge the wind, judge the distance, steady your hand. But once that arrow's left the string, you're not in control of it anymore. You've made your decision, you've set your course. You can't undo your shot. You can only wait until it lands, and see whether you hit what you were aiming at, and how well, or whether you missed, and how badly. Studying the results of what you've done, and whether you succeeded or fucked up, and especially /how/ you succeeded or fucked up, is how you learn to do things better. Being willing to change how you aim and fire is how you improve. If you've put in the work, and if you're at least a little bit lucky, you might manage to make the shot when it really counts, and not when you're just practicing. Maybe. There's no guarantee.
But if you never take that shot in the first place, if you stand there all your life just worrying whether or not you'll succeed or fail, and never actually loose the arrow, then you're never going to learn anything, and you're never going to get better, and you're never going to find out how to deal with what happens when you, inevitably, fail. And in that case it doesn't matter if you could've made the shot when it counted, because you were too afraid to even start the journey in the first place.
Written By Preston
Oct. 24, 2019, 8:20 a.m.(1/26/1012 AR)
Relationship Note on Sparte
It is a most wise observation - it is possible for two people, observing their oaths, to come into conflict. This is true of most wars in the compact - where lords raise their banners, and honour bound their vassals answer. And honour bound they march to war against others called by their liege whose only connection to this conflict may be that oath of honour. It is hard to say either is evil in such a conflict, honour is a path we must walk - but it is a path that is good for our soul, it is not a path that guarantees the survival of our body.
The most difficult thing must always be where such conflicts arise within one person - where oaths made come into conflict. So it was in the siege of the Great Archive in the Crusade of the Broken Mirrors. When we speak of the Templars against the Knights of the Library, we can equally say the Templars against the Templars. The Templar Knights take additional Oaths to become Knights of the Library, but are Templars and those new oaths to defend the Archive are taken in addition to those taken as Templars. It was Brother against Brother, Sister against Sister. That is why I refer to it as a tragedy in many ways - the Knights of the Library were convinced by Marach, as the Scholars were, that their vows to Vellichor required refusal of the orders of the Carnifex. But they were also sworn to obey the commands of their order. So. Whichever path they took, they obeyed one vow and in so doing broke another. There are few accounts of that battle, none I have seen. It would not have been long - against the gathered might of the Templars, even in defense of a building I do not think once the defenses were breached they could have lasted long. But also, it was not a battle to be celebrated. It is not a battle we choose to remember.
The most difficult thing must always be where such conflicts arise within one person - where oaths made come into conflict. So it was in the siege of the Great Archive in the Crusade of the Broken Mirrors. When we speak of the Templars against the Knights of the Library, we can equally say the Templars against the Templars. The Templar Knights take additional Oaths to become Knights of the Library, but are Templars and those new oaths to defend the Archive are taken in addition to those taken as Templars. It was Brother against Brother, Sister against Sister. That is why I refer to it as a tragedy in many ways - the Knights of the Library were convinced by Marach, as the Scholars were, that their vows to Vellichor required refusal of the orders of the Carnifex. But they were also sworn to obey the commands of their order. So. Whichever path they took, they obeyed one vow and in so doing broke another. There are few accounts of that battle, none I have seen. It would not have been long - against the gathered might of the Templars, even in defense of a building I do not think once the defenses were breached they could have lasted long. But also, it was not a battle to be celebrated. It is not a battle we choose to remember.
Written By Lucita
Oct. 18, 2019, 10:01 p.m.(1/15/1012 AR)
Relationship Note on Sparte
Having children name the mound of snow shoveled from the walkways around the Iron Guard area named 'Mount Sparte' is not a bad thing. Just think, it could have been Hillock Sparte or Icybluff Sparte or Snowfort Sparte.
Written By Elisha
Sept. 4, 2019, 10:21 p.m.(10/11/1011 AR)
Relationship Note on Sparte
A breeze comes spilling through
the alley mouth, combed
by the crows who watch
with impersonal inquisitiveness.
The smoke rises and flattens over our crates, gray
upon gray upon gray, spreading into
a path that opens inward,
revealing all those necessary places
that cannot exist.
Do you remember the boy
who broke his neck falling from that rooftop
right over there,
while playing games to impress
me, the first girl he ever loved?
If I knew of a reason to leave,
I might. The touch of his trembling fingertips,
against my wet cheek.
the alley mouth, combed
by the crows who watch
with impersonal inquisitiveness.
The smoke rises and flattens over our crates, gray
upon gray upon gray, spreading into
a path that opens inward,
revealing all those necessary places
that cannot exist.
Do you remember the boy
who broke his neck falling from that rooftop
right over there,
while playing games to impress
me, the first girl he ever loved?
If I knew of a reason to leave,
I might. The touch of his trembling fingertips,
against my wet cheek.
Written By Shard
July 29, 2019, 6:06 a.m.(7/19/1011 AR)
Relationship Note on Sparte
That's the problem. Wind is wind. Why would it ever think about what some human does with their day? I'm not sure it would even think about days at all. What's time to the Wind? Or set paths, for that matter.
Written By Kenna
July 29, 2019, 12:06 a.m.(7/19/1011 AR)
Relationship Note on Sparte
When one's rodent is pregnant there is really one thing to do.
If you figure it out, let me know. Last time I had my cousin to help. I don't think Riagnon would be a good squirrel baby sitter.
I'm just waiting for three turtles to turn up eggs now.
If you figure it out, let me know. Last time I had my cousin to help. I don't think Riagnon would be a good squirrel baby sitter.
I'm just waiting for three turtles to turn up eggs now.
Written By Victus
July 20, 2019, 2:30 p.m.(7/2/1011 AR)
Relationship Note on Sparte
House Thrax is fortunate to have a retainer as loyal to its conviction as Sparte Grayfallow and I am fortunate to have a protege so diligent.
He bent the knee during our war with the Gyre and has shown his bravery time and time again. He may not have been born in the Mourning Isles, but he committed to defend them. I'll always respect that.
He bent the knee during our war with the Gyre and has shown his bravery time and time again. He may not have been born in the Mourning Isles, but he committed to defend them. I'll always respect that.
Written By Elisha
July 19, 2019, 12:09 a.m.(6/27/1011 AR)
Relationship Note on Sparte
A mayfly with mica wings hovers,
then darts away.
Farther down the valley,
a little fog broods.
Each version of this dream conveys a different choice.
A star falls from a bone-white sky
toward an army of the dead.
A bent figure stands among the fallen;
not beckoning for aid but
calling down the star.
That is when you realize
that the stiffening corpses are arranged
to perfectly reflect the constellations
hidden by this heavenly ossuary.
If the crickets ever quiet--
my great-hearted guardian,
my untouchable love--
we might hear a grub burrow beneath
the tarry pine bark
and a salamander
skitter
across the limestone gravel
toward the mayfly
who is already
reborn.
then darts away.
Farther down the valley,
a little fog broods.
Each version of this dream conveys a different choice.
A star falls from a bone-white sky
toward an army of the dead.
A bent figure stands among the fallen;
not beckoning for aid but
calling down the star.
That is when you realize
that the stiffening corpses are arranged
to perfectly reflect the constellations
hidden by this heavenly ossuary.
If the crickets ever quiet--
my great-hearted guardian,
my untouchable love--
we might hear a grub burrow beneath
the tarry pine bark
and a salamander
skitter
across the limestone gravel
toward the mayfly
who is already
reborn.
Written By Elisha
June 28, 2019, 1:02 a.m.(5/12/1011 AR)
Relationship Note on Sparte
(This much is true: King Alaric summons me to his opal chamber late at night, and bathes me in scented water while his astrologers and hierophants and thralls explain that Skald chose to divide himself from himself, to change so completely that he forgot his own divinity. He walks among us now in the form of a young guardsman with burgundy hair and hazel eyes who refuses every royal command to acknowledge his true self.)
* * *
You learned first,
not to touch fire,
and second to caress it.
You plucked a black fig
from a low branch,
and saw a raw red glare.
You squint your eyes
and the bonfires
freeze on your horse's mane.
You crave the moment
when your drawn blade,
is too sharp to kill.
Like viper venom?
No.
Like wolf's milk.
* * *
The first clans watch the dreams of their pyre-side shadows and, even before the camp-following wolves lose their voices, the ritual sharing and eating of food replaces sacrifice:
How easily
cowardice slips
away like skin
from a blanched peach.
A curved yoke, a bamboo flute, a crossbow, a tether, a choice. What is the purpose of a well-made tool? To ease and lighten work? Sand is heated by alchemical fires into glass and lenses are ground into bridges that fetchforth the distance between orphan and commander, and anchor against invisible embankments.
You cross the bridge, while behind you, the cold green umber of a storm gains strength. You are surprised when your lover reaches to join hands and offer thanks for your safe return. The storms gains strength and, where the mountains should be, there's a crisscross of lightning. Am I the son, you wonder, of the dire bear?
The thunder comes,
more delayed
than you ever imagined.
* * *
You learned first,
not to touch fire,
and second to caress it.
You plucked a black fig
from a low branch,
and saw a raw red glare.
You squint your eyes
and the bonfires
freeze on your horse's mane.
You crave the moment
when your drawn blade,
is too sharp to kill.
Like viper venom?
No.
Like wolf's milk.
* * *
The first clans watch the dreams of their pyre-side shadows and, even before the camp-following wolves lose their voices, the ritual sharing and eating of food replaces sacrifice:
How easily
cowardice slips
away like skin
from a blanched peach.
A curved yoke, a bamboo flute, a crossbow, a tether, a choice. What is the purpose of a well-made tool? To ease and lighten work? Sand is heated by alchemical fires into glass and lenses are ground into bridges that fetchforth the distance between orphan and commander, and anchor against invisible embankments.
You cross the bridge, while behind you, the cold green umber of a storm gains strength. You are surprised when your lover reaches to join hands and offer thanks for your safe return. The storms gains strength and, where the mountains should be, there's a crisscross of lightning. Am I the son, you wonder, of the dire bear?
The thunder comes,
more delayed
than you ever imagined.
Written By Elisha
June 20, 2019, 11:05 a.m.(4/25/1011 AR)
Relationship Note on Sparte
From Jadairal, the Platinum Guard travels through the realms of the Prima, rulers who claim descent from the First Child of each particular race. Every citizen and thrall in their realm is eligible to stake an identical claim, but only those so insecure in their parentage as to speak it aloud are elevated to rule.
(In Arx'khat, the queen and the beggar are the same.)
The Guard arrives at a pyramid well-exposed to the moon, with blank sloping walls bereft of entrances, and learns of its creation:
People of various nations had an identical dream. They saw a figure running along a tapestry of passages within an unknown pyramid; he was seen from behind, with long hair, and she was naked. They dreamed of pursuing her. As they twisted and turned, each of them lost him.
(In dreams, women become men, plants become fish.)
Upon waking, the dreamers searched for the pyramid but instead found each other. They decided to build a pyramid like the one in the dream. In laying out the passages, each followed the course of their pursuit of the running figure; except at the spot where they had lost the man's trail, they erected walls that didn't exist in the dream, so she would be unable to escape again.
These new walls of history and logic and choice trapped them forever inside the pyramid. Interred in a crypt of stars.
(No single man prevails; no single man exists.)
(In Arx'khat, the queen and the beggar are the same.)
The Guard arrives at a pyramid well-exposed to the moon, with blank sloping walls bereft of entrances, and learns of its creation:
People of various nations had an identical dream. They saw a figure running along a tapestry of passages within an unknown pyramid; he was seen from behind, with long hair, and she was naked. They dreamed of pursuing her. As they twisted and turned, each of them lost him.
(In dreams, women become men, plants become fish.)
Upon waking, the dreamers searched for the pyramid but instead found each other. They decided to build a pyramid like the one in the dream. In laying out the passages, each followed the course of their pursuit of the running figure; except at the spot where they had lost the man's trail, they erected walls that didn't exist in the dream, so she would be unable to escape again.
These new walls of history and logic and choice trapped them forever inside the pyramid. Interred in a crypt of stars.
(No single man prevails; no single man exists.)
Written By Rinel
June 16, 2019, 3:36 p.m.(4/18/1011 AR)
Relationship Note on Sparte
Sparte Grayfellow's new work--Lord Vellichor's Renewal--has begun with a resounding success. It makes my heart glad to see so many interested in the preservation and promulgation of our histories.
Written By Preston
May 29, 2019, 5:05 a.m.(3/9/1011 AR)
Relationship Note on Sparte
I think I would disagree on one point - that somehow the lack of authority seemingly linked to being a commoner through and through. Is Father Aureth not a man who grew up in adverse conditions and thrived in them because he found service and in him the Church found a worthy servant who could give more in leadership? Is Grandmaster Thena no longer someone who struggled on the streets and the lowers because she was chosen at her young age to lead the Solace into an era the like we haven't seen in generations? I was an orphan, Sir Jeffeth was raised in the Tragedy...you will find many of common birth who do hold authority.
I accept the Faith may be an unusual thing, in that all are common in a way - we all forgo title - but I always thought the strength of the Faith is in that mix of experiences of those who come into us. And I don't think just because some succeed it negates or lessens their common nature. And I'd worry some may not embrace the opportunity the Faith offers to dedicated people if they thought it did.
I accept the Faith may be an unusual thing, in that all are common in a way - we all forgo title - but I always thought the strength of the Faith is in that mix of experiences of those who come into us. And I don't think just because some succeed it negates or lessens their common nature. And I'd worry some may not embrace the opportunity the Faith offers to dedicated people if they thought it did.
Written By Mirari
May 24, 2019, 12:59 a.m.(2/27/1011 AR)
Relationship Note on Sparte
**Below is a hand-made copy of a missive sent out by one Mirari Corsetina.**
---
Dear Wilhem,
Please try harder to stop Sparte Greyfallow from populating the Whites with terrible puns. I happened upon his last one by accident and felt as if I had been brained with a cooking pot. I have enclosed some incentive for you to try harder.
Yours,
Mirari Corsetina
---
Dear Wilhem,
Please try harder to stop Sparte Greyfallow from populating the Whites with terrible puns. I happened upon his last one by accident and felt as if I had been brained with a cooking pot. I have enclosed some incentive for you to try harder.
Yours,
Mirari Corsetina
Written By Shard
May 23, 2019, 1:52 a.m.(2/25/1011 AR)
Relationship Note on Sparte
There's nothing wrong with recognizing that someone else can help you in whatever you're trying to do. There's nothing wrong with assembling a team of people who can all contribute in important ways to the goal. The problem is when you start thinking of other people as resources instead of people. I think I got really angry at someone in front of you once, over this sort of thing. The expectation that a person or persons who /can/ help you therefore /will/ and /must/ help you, with no thought toward their own needs, or even their own existence /as/ a person or persons, is widespread and extraordinarily obnoxious, at best. At the. Very. Best.
Written By Gregory
May 19, 2019, 6:50 p.m.(2/18/1011 AR)
Relationship Note on Sparte
I am ever grateful that I have a cousin in Arx who is there to help me find my way. I can say with certainty that without him, I would not have settled as quickly, nor found my feet on as solid ground as I have.
Written By Aureth
May 14, 2019, 8:51 p.m.(2/8/1011 AR)
Relationship Note on Sparte
Given a task of humility, Sparte Fatchforth has performed it with grace and with dignity, without complaint. His penance is concluded in accordance with the laws of the Church and he is forgiven the trespasses that brought him to this point. I believe his penitence is more than a simple rejection of his flawed past choices, but instead, a renewal of his path, with a demonstrated willingness to seek correction from the Faith when he has erred.
It is with compassion and hope that I welcome him back to the grace of the Faith.
It is with compassion and hope that I welcome him back to the grace of the Faith.
Written By Shard
April 22, 2019, 6:34 a.m.(12/19/1010 AR)
Relationship Note on Sparte
I already said this, but as a contrast, to explain a little of the conversation to anyone that might read it, this is what these things were to me and mine, growing up:
Paths and game trails are useful, provided you pay attention to what else might be using them. Someone or something has come before you and found the easiest way forward, enough that a little of it has been worn into the land, and if the footing is sure enough you can use them as well as the rest. Roads will get you to where you want to go much faster, but they're dangerous. You didn't build them. The people you know didn't build them. They carry soldiers, and a road near your camp means they can carry soldiers to your door. Never use roads, unless you absolutely have to, or unless you're absolutely sure they'll stay empty; and you can never be absolutely sure they'll stay empty. Stay away from them. Keep to the wilds.
Low walls are for animals, to keep them out or to keep them in, for marking out farms and pens or small villages without many soldiers. Unless you know the tribe or the colors, you are not welcome there, and you should stay away. Tall walls are what the people who want to kill you use to keep you and the rest of the world out. If you see them on the horizon, turn away. If you see them being built, turn away. Change hunting trails. Change camps. The tallest walls are city walls or castle walls. They have soldiers and archers watching and waiting, and if you are close enough to see them, they are close enough to shoot you. Never, ever go near these walls. Not for any reason. You will die.
Tall walls protect me now, of course, but I don't like them. I still feel penned in. It still feels a little like one might decide to fall on me if I linger near it too long. Like I still might catch an arrow. I won't complain if I have one to stand on when I'm trying to fight off an army, obviously. But I might still be a little twitchy.
I don't like roads either, even though I'm allowed to use them now. I'll travel down one like anyone else, but I still prefer the trees. I prefer little used paths and trails. I don't like being easily spotted when I'm traveling. Anyone can walk down a road, and anyone can guess which road you're using if they know where your destination is.
Paths and game trails are useful, provided you pay attention to what else might be using them. Someone or something has come before you and found the easiest way forward, enough that a little of it has been worn into the land, and if the footing is sure enough you can use them as well as the rest. Roads will get you to where you want to go much faster, but they're dangerous. You didn't build them. The people you know didn't build them. They carry soldiers, and a road near your camp means they can carry soldiers to your door. Never use roads, unless you absolutely have to, or unless you're absolutely sure they'll stay empty; and you can never be absolutely sure they'll stay empty. Stay away from them. Keep to the wilds.
Low walls are for animals, to keep them out or to keep them in, for marking out farms and pens or small villages without many soldiers. Unless you know the tribe or the colors, you are not welcome there, and you should stay away. Tall walls are what the people who want to kill you use to keep you and the rest of the world out. If you see them on the horizon, turn away. If you see them being built, turn away. Change hunting trails. Change camps. The tallest walls are city walls or castle walls. They have soldiers and archers watching and waiting, and if you are close enough to see them, they are close enough to shoot you. Never, ever go near these walls. Not for any reason. You will die.
Tall walls protect me now, of course, but I don't like them. I still feel penned in. It still feels a little like one might decide to fall on me if I linger near it too long. Like I still might catch an arrow. I won't complain if I have one to stand on when I'm trying to fight off an army, obviously. But I might still be a little twitchy.
I don't like roads either, even though I'm allowed to use them now. I'll travel down one like anyone else, but I still prefer the trees. I prefer little used paths and trails. I don't like being easily spotted when I'm traveling. Anyone can walk down a road, and anyone can guess which road you're using if they know where your destination is.
Please note that the scholars may take some time preparing your journal for others to read.