Written By Amari
Jan. 27, 2024, 11:46 a.m.(8/18/1021 AR)
Artshall held.
I think perhaps some people might have wondered at the wisdom behind even attempting to hold it rather than concentrating the defence entirely in Sanctum. Everyone versed in their history knows that Artshall has been taken, retaken, razed and rebuilt on more than one occasion.
Thankfully, it wasn't a decision born of pride but confidence in the most recent Lady Mabelle led effort to rebuild Artshall stronger than ever. It was a noble undertaking as well. Those who had already been swept from their homes in the south and west of the Oathlands needed time to flee. House Laurent saw what was required, and achieved it admirably with their loyal vassals.
When there's a moment of peace, we might have the time to celebrate that victory fully, and record it all in detail. What I recall most clearly is this:
There was Lady Mabelle's sacrifice, of course - and the dire bees in a vast swarm.
Duke Cristoph and his friend Tavalu who brought fire from the sky, and made the invaders face a wall of flames on every approach.
Lady Jael Laurent who raged furiously against the demonic tide, an unstoppable force.
Lady Lucie Laurent who commanded a spirited and effective defence that stopped a serious breach in the wall.
Legate Cassandra, blessed of Gloria; who stood that day a proud daughter of Laurent.
Dame Xandrine Morgan and Dame Ahren Granger who fought together at the gate, refusing to give even an inch to ogres and ettins and worse.
Marquessa Demura Lyonesse who never yielded, but battled stubbornly on despite being bloodied by a hail of arrows in the initial onslaught.
Prince Artur Redrain who was seen leading charge after charge through the shards, spear in hand.
Lord Richard Wyvernheart who persevered, tending to the wounded even while he himself was very badly hurt.
(and I helped a little bit too, but would have likely fallen if not for Jael and Cassandra's timely interventions. With the Legate, I might still have that demon imp clinging to my back.)
We shouldn't forget how bravely our armies fought that day, for without them and their unyielding resolve, the victory would have been a rout. To every one who rallied to the banner of their liege, from the knights who led by shining example, to the sergeants who held the lines together, down to the valiant men and women who brought nothing but courage and a spear to defend our land and lives to the last: thank you.
I think perhaps some people might have wondered at the wisdom behind even attempting to hold it rather than concentrating the defence entirely in Sanctum. Everyone versed in their history knows that Artshall has been taken, retaken, razed and rebuilt on more than one occasion.
Thankfully, it wasn't a decision born of pride but confidence in the most recent Lady Mabelle led effort to rebuild Artshall stronger than ever. It was a noble undertaking as well. Those who had already been swept from their homes in the south and west of the Oathlands needed time to flee. House Laurent saw what was required, and achieved it admirably with their loyal vassals.
When there's a moment of peace, we might have the time to celebrate that victory fully, and record it all in detail. What I recall most clearly is this:
There was Lady Mabelle's sacrifice, of course - and the dire bees in a vast swarm.
Duke Cristoph and his friend Tavalu who brought fire from the sky, and made the invaders face a wall of flames on every approach.
Lady Jael Laurent who raged furiously against the demonic tide, an unstoppable force.
Lady Lucie Laurent who commanded a spirited and effective defence that stopped a serious breach in the wall.
Legate Cassandra, blessed of Gloria; who stood that day a proud daughter of Laurent.
Dame Xandrine Morgan and Dame Ahren Granger who fought together at the gate, refusing to give even an inch to ogres and ettins and worse.
Marquessa Demura Lyonesse who never yielded, but battled stubbornly on despite being bloodied by a hail of arrows in the initial onslaught.
Prince Artur Redrain who was seen leading charge after charge through the shards, spear in hand.
Lord Richard Wyvernheart who persevered, tending to the wounded even while he himself was very badly hurt.
(and I helped a little bit too, but would have likely fallen if not for Jael and Cassandra's timely interventions. With the Legate, I might still have that demon imp clinging to my back.)
We shouldn't forget how bravely our armies fought that day, for without them and their unyielding resolve, the victory would have been a rout. To every one who rallied to the banner of their liege, from the knights who led by shining example, to the sergeants who held the lines together, down to the valiant men and women who brought nothing but courage and a spear to defend our land and lives to the last: thank you.
Written By Amari
Jan. 22, 2024, 7:56 p.m.(8/9/1021 AR)
Relationship Note on Norwood
Since I'm writing sad journals today, and because when this happened I couldn't write anything about it without bursting into tears; this is how my dear Uncle Norwood, the first Baron Clement of Duskshire, died in the defence of House Redire, and of the Oathlands. Let his sacrifice be remembered.
Baron Norwood had set out to stop a great foe, one who had been terrorizing the West for years. Together we spent many fruitless days hunting down the elusive Knight of the Breach and his Warhammer of Woe. It seemed no matter what, we were forever a step behind, a day too late, or had zigged when we ought to have zagged. You can imagine our frustration. He seemed to almost kill and destroy solely to taunt us as we pursued him in vain. Entire villages were massacred and left piles of rubble in his wake.
That changed when he discovered that House Redire was more than simply an old forgotten name being taken up by a foolish lady with delusions. It was not an empty thing with nothing behind it but the memories of those sylv'alfar he'd slaughtered during the War. No, they lived again. They woke in Reveillon and he turned toward it at once. There was no attempt made to conceal his path. His bloody intent was clear.
When we learned his destination, together we rushed to intercept him there. House Clement summoned their army from Duskshire, I rallied my own brave few just as a foul legion of every evil creature imaginable came pouring out of the woods. It was a vast army of robed cultists carrying inverted Gloria banners, centipede legged monstrosities, Knights of the Swarm, dark mages and their demonic servants.
Together we fought an impossible losing battle against all odds.
When all seemed lost despite all our courage and resolve, Norwood saved us. He put himself bodily between the Knight of the Breach and the walls of the bastion. Our foe revealed his true self then; it was Grimthog Two-Head. It was the same Duke of Grayhill that brought ruin and death to House Redire five hundred years before. Undeterred, Norwood fought on. Even after Queensguard was shattered, he fought on. Even after he was pinned to the ground by Grimthog's hammer and mortally wounded, he fought on.
With the last of his strength, Norwood broke Sunderfall, the Hammer of Woe. Every last abomination was destroyed with it, including the worst of them; Grimthog. The Tyrant's slaves all collapsed and fell to dust in an instant. Norwood had saved us all.
Norwood was too humble to ever have bragged of this, if he'd lived. He wouldn't have wanted to be lauded for simply doing his duty. I chose to record it now so that future generations may know some of the story. And so knowing, should they ever visit Reveillon, and wonder over the rough slab of Artshall granite stood on its end in the field before the castle walls, they would pause there, where he so valiantly fell, and think of Norwood.
He was a true friend.
Baron Norwood had set out to stop a great foe, one who had been terrorizing the West for years. Together we spent many fruitless days hunting down the elusive Knight of the Breach and his Warhammer of Woe. It seemed no matter what, we were forever a step behind, a day too late, or had zigged when we ought to have zagged. You can imagine our frustration. He seemed to almost kill and destroy solely to taunt us as we pursued him in vain. Entire villages were massacred and left piles of rubble in his wake.
That changed when he discovered that House Redire was more than simply an old forgotten name being taken up by a foolish lady with delusions. It was not an empty thing with nothing behind it but the memories of those sylv'alfar he'd slaughtered during the War. No, they lived again. They woke in Reveillon and he turned toward it at once. There was no attempt made to conceal his path. His bloody intent was clear.
When we learned his destination, together we rushed to intercept him there. House Clement summoned their army from Duskshire, I rallied my own brave few just as a foul legion of every evil creature imaginable came pouring out of the woods. It was a vast army of robed cultists carrying inverted Gloria banners, centipede legged monstrosities, Knights of the Swarm, dark mages and their demonic servants.
Together we fought an impossible losing battle against all odds.
When all seemed lost despite all our courage and resolve, Norwood saved us. He put himself bodily between the Knight of the Breach and the walls of the bastion. Our foe revealed his true self then; it was Grimthog Two-Head. It was the same Duke of Grayhill that brought ruin and death to House Redire five hundred years before. Undeterred, Norwood fought on. Even after Queensguard was shattered, he fought on. Even after he was pinned to the ground by Grimthog's hammer and mortally wounded, he fought on.
With the last of his strength, Norwood broke Sunderfall, the Hammer of Woe. Every last abomination was destroyed with it, including the worst of them; Grimthog. The Tyrant's slaves all collapsed and fell to dust in an instant. Norwood had saved us all.
Norwood was too humble to ever have bragged of this, if he'd lived. He wouldn't have wanted to be lauded for simply doing his duty. I chose to record it now so that future generations may know some of the story. And so knowing, should they ever visit Reveillon, and wonder over the rough slab of Artshall granite stood on its end in the field before the castle walls, they would pause there, where he so valiantly fell, and think of Norwood.
He was a true friend.
Written By Amari
Jan. 22, 2024, 6:16 p.m.(8/9/1021 AR)
Relationship Note on Mabelle
It feels like I was just congratulating you and excited for your upcoming marriage. I could only imagine all the elaborate cakes, and the opulent fashions the ceremony would have involved. It's hard to believe you're gone, and it's not happy words of encouragement I write now, but a friend's eulogy.
Was defending Artshall with your life the noble thing to do? Of course it was. Mabelle, you did what was right, and honorable. Many will now live thanks to your sacrifice. It's a comfort that it wasn't for nothing, and that you chose your time and chose well. Should we all survive this, I hope your name is never forgotten.
I wish you could have seen that horrid black tide of demons break and fall away from Artshall's walls. It was a victory you deserved to savour with us.
On behalf of everyone, thank you.
Was defending Artshall with your life the noble thing to do? Of course it was. Mabelle, you did what was right, and honorable. Many will now live thanks to your sacrifice. It's a comfort that it wasn't for nothing, and that you chose your time and chose well. Should we all survive this, I hope your name is never forgotten.
I wish you could have seen that horrid black tide of demons break and fall away from Artshall's walls. It was a victory you deserved to savour with us.
On behalf of everyone, thank you.
Written By Amari
Jan. 20, 2024, 1 p.m.(8/4/1021 AR)
I once told Duke Cristoph that I was a hedgehog. I know I look awfully cute and harmless, but start annoying me and find out. He's going to chuckle when the army from Reveillon arrives.
Finally, to everyone I've spiked over the years: I'm sorry, even if you at least half deserved it.
Finally, to everyone I've spiked over the years: I'm sorry, even if you at least half deserved it.
Written By Amari
Jan. 18, 2024, 1:25 a.m.(7/27/1021 AR)
I may have overexerted myself. When I woke this morning, my bed was no bed at all, and it was half submerged in the lake and snacking on a tree as if it were a stick of celery. It took me longer than I care to admit to remember what had happened. When I did recall, I couldn't do anything but laugh.
Reveillon looked so beautiful standing there in the dawn. Like a dream. It's a shame to leave her, and honor a promise few remember and no one asked we keep. How tempting it felt in that moment to simply stay forgotten in the heart of the Shadowood. How comfortable it would have been to have drawn that thick verdant cloak tighter around us so we might disappear and sleep again.
What sort of friends would that make us if we had? Not true friends. Duke Ahmad gave our House its words as the War of Stolen Names waged yet unseen. Issued an ultimatum by the elves of Legion to surrender his human vassals to them, he refused with those same three words and died for them:
"No Truer Friend."
We haven't forgotten.
Reveillon looked so beautiful standing there in the dawn. Like a dream. It's a shame to leave her, and honor a promise few remember and no one asked we keep. How tempting it felt in that moment to simply stay forgotten in the heart of the Shadowood. How comfortable it would have been to have drawn that thick verdant cloak tighter around us so we might disappear and sleep again.
What sort of friends would that make us if we had? Not true friends. Duke Ahmad gave our House its words as the War of Stolen Names waged yet unseen. Issued an ultimatum by the elves of Legion to surrender his human vassals to them, he refused with those same three words and died for them:
"No Truer Friend."
We haven't forgotten.
Written By Amari
Jan. 14, 2024, 3:58 p.m.(7/21/1021 AR)
Relationship Note on Mabelle
I am overjoyed that you've secured a goodly marriage to a proper Oathlander of a reputable house. I know you will make a splash as Marquessa Mabelle Harthall, and this union will bring unimaginable prosperity to Fair Harbour. The wedding too, will be spectacularly and fittingly grandiose. I'm looking forward to it.
Now it would be terribly selfish of me to say all that, and yet still wish that you'd not leave your present home and House. So I'll not do it, even if it is strange to imagine you as residing elsewhere, and no longer answering to the name, Lady Mabelle Laurent. Everything is changing!
So my friend, please try not to set fire to anything in your new home on the islands, and may the gods bless you and House Harthall.
Now it would be terribly selfish of me to say all that, and yet still wish that you'd not leave your present home and House. So I'll not do it, even if it is strange to imagine you as residing elsewhere, and no longer answering to the name, Lady Mabelle Laurent. Everything is changing!
So my friend, please try not to set fire to anything in your new home on the islands, and may the gods bless you and House Harthall.
Written By Amari
Dec. 18, 2023, 1:16 p.m.(5/22/1021 AR)
Do you, reader, ever have a moment in which you are forced to stop, look upon the gigantic results of your actions and think to yourself; I really should have fully pondered the ramifications of this plan before I 'hatched' it.
Yet, deep in your heart, you're still thrilled by what you've wrought.
Yet, deep in your heart, you're still thrilled by what you've wrought.
Written By Amari
Dec. 3, 2023, 9:52 p.m.(4/21/1021 AR)
The consequences of my actions, praise the gods, haven't yet killed me.
But this last consequence? I thought it was going to chew my face off several times. To say the relationship was fraught, would be minimizing the initial difficulties and misunderstandings between us... significantly.
Squirrels are not respecters of the law, nor furniture, nor property generally, but they are cute. So, very cute.
But this last consequence? I thought it was going to chew my face off several times. To say the relationship was fraught, would be minimizing the initial difficulties and misunderstandings between us... significantly.
Squirrels are not respecters of the law, nor furniture, nor property generally, but they are cute. So, very cute.
Written By Amari
Nov. 19, 2023, 5:04 p.m.(3/21/1021 AR)
There are absolutely no rodents of unusual size anyone need be worried about in Reveillon. The matter was satisfactorily resolved, and the poor farmer recompensed for the damage to his barn and the loss of his nuts. I thank everyone who lent a hand, sang a song, stitched a costume with incredible haste, wrangled a squirrel or otherwise gave support.
As an aside, I was honestly surprised the odd little rumor had spread so quickly and as far as Arx. That people would even journey to Reveillon for that reason alone, was also something of a shock.
Now to be clear, I consider the matter finished and have determined that the incident was a blessing of Petrichor and not something borne of any kind of evil. Therefore, be not concerned and focus on the true darkness that we find abounding in these days. The Shadowood is filled with many dangers, but agitated squirrels making a feast of a farmer's acorn stores are one of the least to be worried over.
As an aside, I was honestly surprised the odd little rumor had spread so quickly and as far as Arx. That people would even journey to Reveillon for that reason alone, was also something of a shock.
Now to be clear, I consider the matter finished and have determined that the incident was a blessing of Petrichor and not something borne of any kind of evil. Therefore, be not concerned and focus on the true darkness that we find abounding in these days. The Shadowood is filled with many dangers, but agitated squirrels making a feast of a farmer's acorn stores are one of the least to be worried over.
Written By Amari
July 23, 2023, 11:30 a.m.(3/20/1020 AR)
When I do pay visit to Arx, I often have to field the same question: Baroness Redire of where?
"Where" is the primary curiosity, as Reveillon appears on no maps and isn't a known center of anything, save perhaps obscurity. The Great Road doesn't run through it, and few willingly or intentionally visit by the perilous ways that lead there. The Shadowood forest is thoroughly inhospitable to merchants, mendicants, musicians, malcontents, tradesmen, explorers and practically anyone who considers themselves even halfway civilized. It's a refuge for wild beasts and wilder folk.
... And we rather like it that way.
"Where" is the primary curiosity, as Reveillon appears on no maps and isn't a known center of anything, save perhaps obscurity. The Great Road doesn't run through it, and few willingly or intentionally visit by the perilous ways that lead there. The Shadowood forest is thoroughly inhospitable to merchants, mendicants, musicians, malcontents, tradesmen, explorers and practically anyone who considers themselves even halfway civilized. It's a refuge for wild beasts and wilder folk.
... And we rather like it that way.
Written By Amari
July 7, 2023, 6:14 p.m.(2/18/1020 AR)
Being an autumn child, I've always loved the onset of winter with its crisp clear nights and the touch of frost in the air. It's when the season is in its oppressive latter stretch, dark, grey and miserable, that it's usually outstayed its welcome with me. Slush is a wretched thing. Wet and cold together makes a cruel misery to suffer.
My advice? Always have a dry pair of socks. The toes you save will thank you. Well, not literally, unless you have very unusual toes. Honestly, if you do have talking toes, I would guess having cold feet are the least of your troubles.
Kindly disregard the above. This was actually meant to be a serious note:
Work continues in Reveillon, and though we are few, progress continues apace. The pines tremble and the oak wakes. The owls call out in the night to their fellows, and the stag finds in the verdant hollows, a quiet place of repose. The wind rustling through the leaves whispers 'soon', and brings with it, the fresh scent of Spring renewal.
Praise Petrichor.
My advice? Always have a dry pair of socks. The toes you save will thank you. Well, not literally, unless you have very unusual toes. Honestly, if you do have talking toes, I would guess having cold feet are the least of your troubles.
Kindly disregard the above. This was actually meant to be a serious note:
Work continues in Reveillon, and though we are few, progress continues apace. The pines tremble and the oak wakes. The owls call out in the night to their fellows, and the stag finds in the verdant hollows, a quiet place of repose. The wind rustling through the leaves whispers 'soon', and brings with it, the fresh scent of Spring renewal.
Praise Petrichor.
Written By Amari
May 16, 2023, 11:47 a.m.(10/25/1019 AR)
I address this entry to an unnamed party. If you happen to read this:
A sorry won't suffice.
A sorry won't suffice.
Written By Amari
May 16, 2023, 11:21 a.m.(10/25/1019 AR)
I find myself retiring more and more often to the Shadowood. Each stay stretches longer. First it was a few days to attend to pressing matters, then weeks to oversee certain reconstruction efforts, now months and months for no more reason save to be there and engaged with the daily goings on and travails of my people. A busy baroness rarely has nought to do, I've discovered to my great pleasure. This is, for example, one of the first opportunities I've had to write in... well, a very long time.
That's not to suggest that I loathe Arx or the majority of her inhabitants. It remains a singularly fantastical city and worthy to visit from time to time to conduct business and meet with others (of whom there are a few that I miss quite dearly), but it's not home - not really. Reveillon is that now. Even though it lacks in many ways in comparison, the charm of that little refuge can't be denied. I've learned that I can survive without the latest fashions, and the most current news from the capitol. Still, I do enjoy the occasional whisper of gossip that flits back across the continent to me, even if it lacks all the urgency that it once had. I'll admit that much.
So if there was any wonder as to what happened to me, this entry ought to dispel all strange rumors and speculations. No, I wasn't carried away by a swarm of bees, nor murdered by Abandoned cultists. I haven't yet married a Cardian or worse yet, a shav warlord, nor has a secret courtship with a prince been pursued. I'll leave that sort of embarrassingly crass striving to others, thank you very much. Why bother? Whatever the gods intend will be so, and I don't mind relative obscurity.
Besides, as a lawyer and amateur scholar, I can attest: the best notes are found in the margins.
That's not to suggest that I loathe Arx or the majority of her inhabitants. It remains a singularly fantastical city and worthy to visit from time to time to conduct business and meet with others (of whom there are a few that I miss quite dearly), but it's not home - not really. Reveillon is that now. Even though it lacks in many ways in comparison, the charm of that little refuge can't be denied. I've learned that I can survive without the latest fashions, and the most current news from the capitol. Still, I do enjoy the occasional whisper of gossip that flits back across the continent to me, even if it lacks all the urgency that it once had. I'll admit that much.
So if there was any wonder as to what happened to me, this entry ought to dispel all strange rumors and speculations. No, I wasn't carried away by a swarm of bees, nor murdered by Abandoned cultists. I haven't yet married a Cardian or worse yet, a shav warlord, nor has a secret courtship with a prince been pursued. I'll leave that sort of embarrassingly crass striving to others, thank you very much. Why bother? Whatever the gods intend will be so, and I don't mind relative obscurity.
Besides, as a lawyer and amateur scholar, I can attest: the best notes are found in the margins.
Written By Amari
March 12, 2023, 5:09 p.m.(6/8/1019 AR)
"Oh... so you're that Baroness Redire from the spooky old Shadowood? Ain't you scared of all them murderous thieving shavs and giant fishes and whatnot? Why're you always talking about cabbages besides? Bit strange, if you ask me. I know you ain't a bad sort, but I'm just saying, my Lady. Forgive my impertinence, but the Shadowood ain't got the best reputation for hospitality, never has. People what go in there don't never come back out, most times. I mean, it's terrible kind of you to offer to put us up, on account of what happened to our beloved Artshall, but..."
I've enjoyed the candor of the refugees I've spoken to since the tragedy, even if they've not all been eager to accept the invitation to shelter in Reveillon. They're good, decent folk, and it will be a glorious day when they can all finally return to their homes in Artshall. I'm quite certain that nearly every one of them wish to be living again behind those familiar high walls on that ancient granite bluff, with the verdant green vale stretching out below, secure beneath the banners of House Laurent. Until then, they, and Duke Cristoph will have House Redire's full and continued support (and surplus cabbages).
I pray to the gods that all this hardship shall pass, for justice to be done and that, with Petrichor's blessing, this year's harvest be bountiful.
I've enjoyed the candor of the refugees I've spoken to since the tragedy, even if they've not all been eager to accept the invitation to shelter in Reveillon. They're good, decent folk, and it will be a glorious day when they can all finally return to their homes in Artshall. I'm quite certain that nearly every one of them wish to be living again behind those familiar high walls on that ancient granite bluff, with the verdant green vale stretching out below, secure beneath the banners of House Laurent. Until then, they, and Duke Cristoph will have House Redire's full and continued support (and surplus cabbages).
I pray to the gods that all this hardship shall pass, for justice to be done and that, with Petrichor's blessing, this year's harvest be bountiful.
Written By Amari
Dec. 18, 2022, 5:31 p.m.(1/25/1019 AR)
I simply cannot sing the praises of cabbage enough. If I were Lord Savio, I'd write a poem about them. I'm not. I'll spare anyone who happens to read this, what would be some truly horrible prose best forgotten. Out of a great amount of care and compassion for you, fair reader, I will be merciful and refrain. Besides, I'm working on an epic once-in-a-generation song about split pea soup, another of Petrichor's blessings which I enjoy almost daily here in Reveillon. Everyone does. The peas were as plentiful as the cabbage this year.
Praise the gods.
Praise the gods.
Written By Amari
Dec. 11, 2022, 7:49 p.m.(1/11/1019 AR)
It's finally aeterna season.
Oh, who am I kidding? It's always aeterna season.
Oh, who am I kidding? It's always aeterna season.
Written By Amari
Oct. 2, 2022, 6:50 p.m.(6/27/1018 AR)
Weather could always be better, but the cabbages are growing well. The carrots are sparse, but parsnips thick. Beets are abundant. Beans and peas are in full flower. The pear trees are white with blossoms, and the bees very busy.
Written By Amari
Sept. 25, 2022, 7:38 p.m.(6/13/1018 AR)
Still farming. Plenty of cabbage will be needed this year as Reveillon grows and Artshall rebuilds. One can't live on honey alone. I do hope everyone is preparing for the bitter winter to come.
Written By Amari
Sept. 18, 2022, 7:37 p.m.(5/27/1018 AR)
Away again, there's much to do at home and no one I'd wish to delegate the work to. It's time to turn the earth and plant new seed. With Petrichor's blessing and by our labors we will reap a bounty.
Written By Amari
Sept. 11, 2022, 7:33 p.m.(5/13/1018 AR)
The twins are of the age to begin learning the Thirteen Lessons! I can't believe they're five years old already. It feels like their Naming was just yesterday.
Sigh.
Sigh.
Please note that the scholars may take some time preparing your journal for others to read.