Written By Costas
March 4, 2018, 10:38 p.m.(4/20/1008 AR)
In my years living both outside and within the Compact, I have come round to believe that the inchoate nature of man is to be faithless. Craving the bond between souls that is forged in oaths but to mistrust that they will be repaid in balance, and keep ourselves and our confidence only for ourselves and what is personally prized.
And here, as in all such middle roads between virtue and corruption, we find the guidance of the divine urging us toward the light. Limerance calls us to not live solely as individuals but to make common cause. To wed our own fates with those around us. Though the words we speak might be different between a liege or a spouse, in both circumstances two single threads are woven together to create something much stronger. In this sanctified covenant is found the basis for all community, all civilization.
It is a threadbare soul that makes no oaths. No pledges. Holds nothing sacred but their own intentions, and holds themselves apart from the responsibility to any other. But I have met very few such folk, in truth. While we originate from faithlessness, the divine complexity of our earthly lives seems to most always place in our path something to which we are willing to submit in fidelity. One need only to look up from the fire round a group of soldiers in the late hours and see the tokens of affection held with care in their hands - letters, trinkets, locks of hair - to understand what has brought them to willing violence for the chance of a better livelihood. Have they not made oaths, silently spoken in their hearts, that carry them through the dark? I have seen such men and women fight with a fire as could not be explained save by the blessing of the gods, and so I think it the case that this impelling force to be bound in devotion is what moves, by inches at a time, our human race ever onward toward grace.
Limerance, steadfast and true. Through your guidance we are brought from the deception of solitude and into the warm light of obligation, nurturing our starved hearts. In which one may become two, and two may become something else entirely.
And here, as in all such middle roads between virtue and corruption, we find the guidance of the divine urging us toward the light. Limerance calls us to not live solely as individuals but to make common cause. To wed our own fates with those around us. Though the words we speak might be different between a liege or a spouse, in both circumstances two single threads are woven together to create something much stronger. In this sanctified covenant is found the basis for all community, all civilization.
It is a threadbare soul that makes no oaths. No pledges. Holds nothing sacred but their own intentions, and holds themselves apart from the responsibility to any other. But I have met very few such folk, in truth. While we originate from faithlessness, the divine complexity of our earthly lives seems to most always place in our path something to which we are willing to submit in fidelity. One need only to look up from the fire round a group of soldiers in the late hours and see the tokens of affection held with care in their hands - letters, trinkets, locks of hair - to understand what has brought them to willing violence for the chance of a better livelihood. Have they not made oaths, silently spoken in their hearts, that carry them through the dark? I have seen such men and women fight with a fire as could not be explained save by the blessing of the gods, and so I think it the case that this impelling force to be bound in devotion is what moves, by inches at a time, our human race ever onward toward grace.
Limerance, steadfast and true. Through your guidance we are brought from the deception of solitude and into the warm light of obligation, nurturing our starved hearts. In which one may become two, and two may become something else entirely.
Written By Costas
March 1, 2018, 2:34 p.m.(4/13/1008 AR)
Relationship Note on Shard
That's his choice. But thank you for the information. Does he have a preference on sacrifices? I don't anticipate being quit of the need to reach out in prayer.
Written By Costas
March 1, 2018, 4:56 a.m.(4/12/1008 AR)
Choices were made. Common words, and self-evident. But important in their own right, and without regard for justifications. The first rule of life is to make choices, for without them what can a life be? To be deprived of choices is to be a slave. To abstain then from choice is to make of oneself a slave. To indolence. To fear. To the specters of the past. To choose is an act of liberty.
Yet, not all choices are equal. How might we measure this? Some choices are simple: what to eat for breakfast, what bar to drink at. Others are of much more significance. To put yourself in harm's way. To put yourself in the way of another. We know these choices, instinctually, to be of more substance. But why? In contemplation, I come closer to a belief that these choices inherit the weight of what they promise to create, and what they threaten to destroy. A choice is a fork in the road between paths. In the penultima of a moment of choice, all equivalent and existing only in the conjectural. But in the act of choosing we make one into reality. Place our mark upon the world in an action that creates something new, or destroys something that once was. Or as is so often the case, both creation and destruction in the same stroke.
Our choices are how we engage with the world outside of ourselves. What of our nature, our character that we etch into the living fabric of existence. There is something to be measured not simply in the judgment of what results from our choices, but from the impetus. From the balance of our intentions. On the one side what of ourselves lies in motivation. On the other, what of the world exterior. The community of our fellow souls. Their improvement in some manner or their protection from some threat. A wiser man might identify yet more possibilities but as a one who has lived his life by the blade's edge these are what come to mind. Though I think that the sum does not matter; as if the one side is the motivations from within, then it's alter is everything without.
Skald, Breaker of Chains, who exhorts us to make the most of the free lives that have been gifted to us. Give me the clarity to see the choices that lie before me and the boldness to act. Let me see with an honest heart what path my choices will carve. What I may create, and what I may destroy. In my reflection upon the choices I must make may I understand in whose name I act; mine, or the community for whom I share the responsibility of all souls to act in good faith. And most importantly, remind me that even though the ramifications of those choices be dire, the only way is forward through the making of yet more.
Yet, not all choices are equal. How might we measure this? Some choices are simple: what to eat for breakfast, what bar to drink at. Others are of much more significance. To put yourself in harm's way. To put yourself in the way of another. We know these choices, instinctually, to be of more substance. But why? In contemplation, I come closer to a belief that these choices inherit the weight of what they promise to create, and what they threaten to destroy. A choice is a fork in the road between paths. In the penultima of a moment of choice, all equivalent and existing only in the conjectural. But in the act of choosing we make one into reality. Place our mark upon the world in an action that creates something new, or destroys something that once was. Or as is so often the case, both creation and destruction in the same stroke.
Our choices are how we engage with the world outside of ourselves. What of our nature, our character that we etch into the living fabric of existence. There is something to be measured not simply in the judgment of what results from our choices, but from the impetus. From the balance of our intentions. On the one side what of ourselves lies in motivation. On the other, what of the world exterior. The community of our fellow souls. Their improvement in some manner or their protection from some threat. A wiser man might identify yet more possibilities but as a one who has lived his life by the blade's edge these are what come to mind. Though I think that the sum does not matter; as if the one side is the motivations from within, then it's alter is everything without.
Skald, Breaker of Chains, who exhorts us to make the most of the free lives that have been gifted to us. Give me the clarity to see the choices that lie before me and the boldness to act. Let me see with an honest heart what path my choices will carve. What I may create, and what I may destroy. In my reflection upon the choices I must make may I understand in whose name I act; mine, or the community for whom I share the responsibility of all souls to act in good faith. And most importantly, remind me that even though the ramifications of those choices be dire, the only way is forward through the making of yet more.
Written By Costas
Feb. 24, 2018, 7:19 p.m.(4/4/1008 AR)
As a man of the sea, Mangata has always been close to my heart. Of all the appeals one could make of the goddess of water and sky, I have made the better part of them. For strong winds in sails. For the calming of storms on my heading and for the rise of them in my wake. For clouds to part so that I could read the map of the stars and chart my way home. For just one fish to come close enough for the spear.
Hers is the domain of the indomitable. One cannot own the sea, and the sky cannot be encompassed. From the highest King to the lowliest Lord, none may look out from the shore and see a thing tamed. The sea does not kneel. Only rolls and surges in contempt of all claims, and all that is taken from it's bounty is done so with the knowledge that it is a gift. The fish cannot be compelled to swim but where the currents demand. The storm cannot be beaten back, warred against, or broken. Only weathered.
It takes, as well, the sea. A sailor will tell you that Mangata is fickle. That she will send the gale winds to upset the fishing boat or turn the catch away from the line no matter the strength or sincerity of the prayer. And he will stomp, and curse, and grumble at his fate. But he will still pray. A storm, after all, can always grow darker. And the fish might bite the next day. The mystery of Mangata and her sea and sky is that of potential. For a better wind or a fuller net; or for the calamity of the hurricane. Beautiful and terrible all at once, her domain is inexorable motion; indifferent to the creatures which live so necessarily by it's whim. But not uncaring.
Every child who has ever stood at the shoreline has marveled at how, even as they stand perfectly still, the endless rhythm of the flowing tide draws the wet sand from under their feet. Has watched in fascination as they were slowly consumed, sinking into a cool, muddy embrace. And felt that quiet, atavistic thrill when, finally roused out of wonder, they have to pull just a little bit harder than expected to get free.
Above all things, Mangata denies stasis. Stand still for too long and she will bury you. Live in contempt of the motion, the potential she represents and you will be dragged under by it.
Oh Mangata of the life-giving sea and the sky from which warm rains fall, Mother of Storms. Though you have so many times made me witness to the most dark of tempests I have forgot that the bounty of life must be earned through constancy of action. I have been satisfied with the full net and complacent of placid waters. Neglecting to attend to the sacrifices demanded each day and without expectation, by which we are reminded that the better part of all our fortunes are come by the grace of ever-turning Creation and not the meagre labors of a proud soul. Let me be reminded, in meditation upon your sea and sky, to keep myself ever in motion, and my eyes cast always to the far line of the horizon.
Hers is the domain of the indomitable. One cannot own the sea, and the sky cannot be encompassed. From the highest King to the lowliest Lord, none may look out from the shore and see a thing tamed. The sea does not kneel. Only rolls and surges in contempt of all claims, and all that is taken from it's bounty is done so with the knowledge that it is a gift. The fish cannot be compelled to swim but where the currents demand. The storm cannot be beaten back, warred against, or broken. Only weathered.
It takes, as well, the sea. A sailor will tell you that Mangata is fickle. That she will send the gale winds to upset the fishing boat or turn the catch away from the line no matter the strength or sincerity of the prayer. And he will stomp, and curse, and grumble at his fate. But he will still pray. A storm, after all, can always grow darker. And the fish might bite the next day. The mystery of Mangata and her sea and sky is that of potential. For a better wind or a fuller net; or for the calamity of the hurricane. Beautiful and terrible all at once, her domain is inexorable motion; indifferent to the creatures which live so necessarily by it's whim. But not uncaring.
Every child who has ever stood at the shoreline has marveled at how, even as they stand perfectly still, the endless rhythm of the flowing tide draws the wet sand from under their feet. Has watched in fascination as they were slowly consumed, sinking into a cool, muddy embrace. And felt that quiet, atavistic thrill when, finally roused out of wonder, they have to pull just a little bit harder than expected to get free.
Above all things, Mangata denies stasis. Stand still for too long and she will bury you. Live in contempt of the motion, the potential she represents and you will be dragged under by it.
Oh Mangata of the life-giving sea and the sky from which warm rains fall, Mother of Storms. Though you have so many times made me witness to the most dark of tempests I have forgot that the bounty of life must be earned through constancy of action. I have been satisfied with the full net and complacent of placid waters. Neglecting to attend to the sacrifices demanded each day and without expectation, by which we are reminded that the better part of all our fortunes are come by the grace of ever-turning Creation and not the meagre labors of a proud soul. Let me be reminded, in meditation upon your sea and sky, to keep myself ever in motion, and my eyes cast always to the far line of the horizon.
Written By Costas
Feb. 18, 2018, 6:15 a.m.(3/18/1008 AR)
Between my meditations in the shrine of Vellichor I have watched countless citizens come to record their thoughts in devotion to the god of Histories. Many enter and leave scant marks upon the parchment. The banalities of their day's troubles. Their observations of the world around them. Their worries and hopes. An act of oblation often little thought of beyond the requirement that it be done. It would be easy to cast these in a critical light. I have done so myself, questioning to what point a remark about a new pet, or a vague allusion to an unnamed lover, or the back and forth of discussion about what objects bickering couples might be hurling at the heads of their spouses.
But in the making of a tapestry there is both warp and weft. The underlying threads stretched across the frame are remarkable not for their fine texture or vivid dye but the strength they lend. Mundane, but resilient. Without which our fabric under strain would tangle in a snarl of lurid color.
In this way too I am coming to believe that a life cannot be lived fully and entirely in the blacks. We were not made by the gods to exist only in shadow. To contemplate and find worthy only the secret thoughts that we dare not share with others. Suffering only our own judgment and counsel as guide. Such a threadbare existence will surely twist and unravel without the strong foundation of what is lived, even if simply, in the light.
This is a lesson Vellichor has left us. That we reflect in the black what must, necessarily, in our lives be between only us and the gods. But it is in the whites that we reflect to one another. All of us standing in the same mirror, side by side in the community of devotion. To be left out of this great, shared reflection is to put yourself outside of History. To take the first step into the corruption of isolation, from which is born the need to control, to divide, and to unmake.
Wise Vellichor, in defiance of your command I have lived a life of mistrust and division, ruled only by my own secret heart and mocking the shared history lived earnestly by those brave enough to make their own hearts seen. As you came to the people of an age past to bestow the knowledge that would see them into chapters yet unwritten, take pity on my wayward soul and grant me the strength to write my own for all to see, and let them be the judge of my place in our History.
But in the making of a tapestry there is both warp and weft. The underlying threads stretched across the frame are remarkable not for their fine texture or vivid dye but the strength they lend. Mundane, but resilient. Without which our fabric under strain would tangle in a snarl of lurid color.
In this way too I am coming to believe that a life cannot be lived fully and entirely in the blacks. We were not made by the gods to exist only in shadow. To contemplate and find worthy only the secret thoughts that we dare not share with others. Suffering only our own judgment and counsel as guide. Such a threadbare existence will surely twist and unravel without the strong foundation of what is lived, even if simply, in the light.
This is a lesson Vellichor has left us. That we reflect in the black what must, necessarily, in our lives be between only us and the gods. But it is in the whites that we reflect to one another. All of us standing in the same mirror, side by side in the community of devotion. To be left out of this great, shared reflection is to put yourself outside of History. To take the first step into the corruption of isolation, from which is born the need to control, to divide, and to unmake.
Wise Vellichor, in defiance of your command I have lived a life of mistrust and division, ruled only by my own secret heart and mocking the shared history lived earnestly by those brave enough to make their own hearts seen. As you came to the people of an age past to bestow the knowledge that would see them into chapters yet unwritten, take pity on my wayward soul and grant me the strength to write my own for all to see, and let them be the judge of my place in our History.
Written By Costas
Jan. 15, 2018, 8:02 p.m.(12/22/1007 AR)
After some recent confusion the Bank of Southport would like to announce that it has added helpful pictograms to the signs indicating the teller windows for deposits and withdrawals, to better serve reading-impaired customers.
Written By Costas
Jan. 2, 2018, 2:17 p.m.(11/20/1007 AR)
Get a job.
Written By Costas
Dec. 21, 2017, 4:28 p.m.(10/24/1007 AR)
In the wake of so many meditations upon death I find myself consumed by reverie of the lost.
Hold firm your grip to those beloved around you. Make forgiveness, compromise, and love your sacraments. End quarrels quickly, or risk bitter last words forever casting shadows over the greatest of your memories.
Hold firm your grip to those beloved around you. Make forgiveness, compromise, and love your sacraments. End quarrels quickly, or risk bitter last words forever casting shadows over the greatest of your memories.
Written By Costas
Dec. 3, 2017, 9:52 p.m.(9/15/1007 AR)
Relationship Note on Calypso
I have the luxury and privilege to spend a great deal of time with the Duchess General. True much of it's been standing outside the door, staring back at the folk that likewise guard bodies for whoever she's meeting with. But the amount of time spent making sure needs are met not only for Southport but the Compact as a whole is staggering. I have encountered none that have come close to matching her in this regard as so many others.
It's a short list of ways so much could change overnight.
It's a short list of ways so much could change overnight.
Written By Costas
June 18, 2017, 10:55 p.m.(9/5/1006 AR)
Relationship Note on Sebastian
The story I owe you is a three-bottle, at least. You're buying.
Written By Costas
June 11, 2017, 11:52 p.m.(8/19/1006 AR)
Relationship Note on Calypso
I had the opportunity to watch the Lady General play the game of chess today. Very interesting in strategy and representing the archetypes of society. All the pawns of course, doggedly marching ahead. Castles advancing and reinforcing the line, knights moving round in eccentric yet predictable flourishes.
I found it particularly interesting that the most powerful piece on the board is not the King, but the Queen. What does he think, I wonder, while she is out in the field cutting down foes and earning acclaim? After busying himself with the difficult decision of a black or white square for the night's drinking, does he ruminate in petty jealousy? Does he fester and blubber, complaining to the pieces he has surrounded himself with?
Does he, rising from impotence, become the Fool? Who, unfamiliar with the straight line of valor, advances on the honorable with crooked steps?
I found it particularly interesting that the most powerful piece on the board is not the King, but the Queen. What does he think, I wonder, while she is out in the field cutting down foes and earning acclaim? After busying himself with the difficult decision of a black or white square for the night's drinking, does he ruminate in petty jealousy? Does he fester and blubber, complaining to the pieces he has surrounded himself with?
Does he, rising from impotence, become the Fool? Who, unfamiliar with the straight line of valor, advances on the honorable with crooked steps?
Written By Costas
June 4, 2017, 11:40 p.m.(8/4/1006 AR)
Relationship Note on Calypso
Determined as fiercely on the defensive as at the attack. As ever I look to the character of the forces by your side, and then across your field to those arrayed against you. Their call to battle ringing false. Their pennants limp and flaccid.
Whosoever stands against you- time will forget.
Whosoever stands against you- time will forget.
Written By Costas
June 4, 2017, 11:25 p.m.(8/4/1006 AR)
Relationship Note on Juliet
I can't say that I ever got round to understanding from where came your views on some matters, but the fervor with which you fought for their advancement was inspiring. I have known very few whose actions were so consistent with their words.
Written By Costas
June 4, 2017, 11:13 p.m.(8/4/1006 AR)
Relationship Note on Max
You chose to plot a course round the atavistic sargassum that birth put at your bow. I choose to disbelieve the cynical rumors that follow in your wake.
Written By Costas
May 15, 2017, 11:11 p.m.(6/20/1006 AR)
Loose lips are the first thing to be eaten by the fucking fishes.
Written By Costas
May 7, 2017, 10:31 p.m.(6/4/1006 AR)
When the actions of another lack for obvious motive, I find the explanation often lies in some thing that is missing. The demand of respect unearned may speak to a lack of security. The desire to marshal authority unto oneself may speak to a lack of virility. And jealousy? Well.
I am put more and more to mind of the instructions of the Thirteenth- to reflect on the flaws in our characters. For myself certainly wrath. A lack of compassion, might be? I have witnessed some truly wronged forgive their transgressors, refusing to allow the blow struck the power to control their reactions. A powerful thing to witness, which I have a hard time seeing past naming weakness or fear. But where does that lead, then? To only ever wish dark ends upon a growing field of foes? To leave a crimson trail in your wake?
Who would lead me to be? A frightening thought.
I am put more and more to mind of the instructions of the Thirteenth- to reflect on the flaws in our characters. For myself certainly wrath. A lack of compassion, might be? I have witnessed some truly wronged forgive their transgressors, refusing to allow the blow struck the power to control their reactions. A powerful thing to witness, which I have a hard time seeing past naming weakness or fear. But where does that lead, then? To only ever wish dark ends upon a growing field of foes? To leave a crimson trail in your wake?
Who would lead me to be? A frightening thought.
Written By Costas
April 30, 2017, 8:36 p.m.(5/16/1006 AR)
Relationship Note on Calypso
While so many have been prideful, mercurial, and consumed by their own petty affairs I have watched her tirelessly work to keep this city and its people safe. She has never been overcome by demons of jealousy and conceit. Never complained of not receiving the respect she is due. Has never been distracted by paranoia, fear, and narrow perspective.
For all that our philosophy speaks of the character of a Leader, I am glad to have actually met one.
For all that our philosophy speaks of the character of a Leader, I am glad to have actually met one.
Written By Costas
March 15, 2017, 12:10 a.m.(2/5/1006 AR)
There are no paragons save for in stories. At best an exemplar is only that until glimpsed with sufficient attention. In the moment when they are faced with the thing that makes them weak.
How bitter faith tastes when it turns to disappointment.
How bitter faith tastes when it turns to disappointment.
Written By Costas
Feb. 26, 2017, 9:35 p.m.(12/28/1005 AR)
Relationship Note on Arcelia
The Lady Arcelia Saik is a breath of fresh air in our Tower. Vibrant and full of hope, she has already made it her quest to provide succor and ease to those suffering in the Lower. An endeavor I look forward to aiding her in as much as I can. Between the cold season and the Iron Guard stepping down harder on their necks, the poor and needy deserve all the kindness they can be afforded.
I think her presence will also be good for Vomas. Kima and I do all we can but he needs some round him softer than we are.
I think her presence will also be good for Vomas. Kima and I do all we can but he needs some round him softer than we are.
Written By Costas
Feb. 19, 2017, 10:49 p.m.(12/15/1005 AR)
Relationship Note on Caelis
A fine companion to sail with and poised enough to handle herself on a ship with a crew like mine. I certainly appreciated her game wit as a counterpoint to the grim, frowning Thraxans we fleeted with.
Please note that the scholars may take some time preparing your journal for others to read.