Written By Dycard
April 26, 2021, 2:56 p.m.(5/13/1015 AR)
I've always been one for leisure and finding time to relax, but with current events and the like all of the nights I spend at my desk trying to come up with some new form of entertainment feel maddening. It makes me wonder how those who invented board games or card games finally said 'Yes, this is the way the game will be played.'
Written By Dycard
March 28, 2021, 1:32 p.m.(3/11/1015 AR)
I think that whatever happened last night at this party was fixed from the start, or the drinks were stiffer than they tasted. Losing my first dare - something completely beyond my control, whatever those in attendance may recall - speaks to the fact. Surely I can't be that unlucky.
Written By Dycard
March 21, 2021, 12:13 p.m.(2/25/1015 AR)
While my hiatus prevented holding the bi-monthly Blackshore luncheons I had endeavored to make a thing, and the creation and proliferation of the collectible coins I had planned to make the idea popular, I have since endeavored to start trying to schedule them more frequently. If anyone would like to get involved and have their own house - or, I suppose some idea of personal significance - minted on some coins for people to hoard, please feel free to leave messages at The Intrepid.
Written By Dycard
March 14, 2021, 2:54 p.m.(2/11/1015 AR)
My return from hiatus has proven a whirlwind of activity. At the recommendation of friends - and some rather embarrassing setbacks during the testing process - I have managed to gain acceptance to the Society of Explorers. If word gets out about the aforementioned setbacks I would simply like to say that it had been some time since I had to do certain activities by myself and I was a little rusty.
Regardless, I am honored for the opportunity and hope to not only prove of use to their endeavors, but also help restore Blackshore's formerly extensive library of knowledge.
Regardless, I am honored for the opportunity and hope to not only prove of use to their endeavors, but also help restore Blackshore's formerly extensive library of knowledge.
Written By Dycard
March 4, 2021, 10:26 p.m.(1/20/1015 AR)
I had an interesting round of drinks with some friends new and old today after returning to the city after a brief hiatus and a curious idea was jokingly mentioned - a wedding gown of sharkskin. While nobody really took it seriously I thought the idea sounded excellent, though it could have been the booze talking.
As a man who has done much to avoid the bondage of marriage I have to admit that if I found a woman willing to give it a whirl I might be willing to take the plunge - I believe Lady Mabelle volunteered her services for any hopeful women in designing such an outfit.
As a man who has done much to avoid the bondage of marriage I have to admit that if I found a woman willing to give it a whirl I might be willing to take the plunge - I believe Lady Mabelle volunteered her services for any hopeful women in designing such an outfit.
Written By Dycard
Nov. 7, 2020, 3:44 a.m.(5/5/1014 AR)
Taking The Intrepid out for the first time was glorious: the way she cut through the waves, and her lack of care for which way the wind blew. The crew performed well enough in their new duties and it was luckily an uneventful trip, but at least her maiden voyage wasn't one of war.
Written By Dycard
Oct. 18, 2020, 6:29 p.m.(3/22/1014 AR)
Politicking has never particularly been my forte, scholar, but as of late I have been forced to take notice of some things and involve myself in others. I am hopeful that all peoples of the Mourning Isles can realize the benefit of acting in concert and directed by a singular purpose. The Traitor Duke and his allies from the east must be seen as an opportunity for us to solidify the might of the Thraxian navy and reaffirm our position in the Compact.
Written By Dycard
Oct. 17, 2020, 3:24 p.m.(3/20/1014 AR)
In light of recent events and in order to further develop my own scholastic ambitions, I will be publishing a series of texts on naval theory and doctrine, hopefully to the interest of those who wield more power than I do in order to effect policy change. I only pray i'm not counted as some kind of maniac or revolutionary for my thoughts, gods willing.
Written By Dycard
Oct. 11, 2020, 10:29 p.m.(3/8/1014 AR)
Relationship Note on Carita
The charming and self-possessed Countess Carita Darkwater has seen fit to take me under her wing as her protege. Once this conflict in the Isles is resolved, I hope I can make her time worthwhile as I begin to take my newly constructed caravel, the Intrepid, in search of new lands for Blackshore.
Written By Dycard
Oct. 6, 2020, 7:51 a.m.(2/25/1014 AR)
As relaxing and enjoyable as Arx is, I suppose it is time to proceed with being a contributing member of House Blackshore. One can only masquerade as resupplying -one- galley for so long. I've decided I need to put together a uniform for the crew, and while i'm no tailor and don't profess to hold a single creative bone in my body, I think i'm going to have something done that will certainly anger father should he ever decide to show his face again. A dandy he called me one? The entire crew will be Dycard's Dandies, if I see this through. Ha.
Written By Dycard
Oct. 1, 2020, 4:56 a.m.(2/15/1014 AR)
Returning to Arx just in time to embarrass myself competing at a celebration of the Whirlpool's disappearance is all too fitting. It's a relief though to get reacquainted with old friends and family though without too much issue - Orrick is probably growing tired of running missives across the city for me. I will have to start making more appearances at social functions though if i'm to fully reintegrate with society. No used hiding aboard The Gambit like a recluse.
Written By Dycard
Sept. 29, 2020, 5:57 p.m.(2/12/1014 AR)
It is unusual to admit, and possible even more embarrassing to write down, but I must say I missed Arx. Where dry land previously left me feeling trapped or uneasy recent revelations and my part at Sungreet have fostered a certain affection for the capital, friends, and yes - even some of my family who no doubt know who they are. While such sentiment isn't exactly foreign, it is strange to feel such a pull to land and to harbor concern on how many days I will have before the Gambit returns out to hunt the seas.
I will trust resupplying her hold to the crew and see about rekindling things with old relations. I'm sure more than one of them owes me a drink or three, and Pirate could do with a fresh hunting ground.
I will trust resupplying her hold to the crew and see about rekindling things with old relations. I'm sure more than one of them owes me a drink or three, and Pirate could do with a fresh hunting ground.
Written By Dycard
May 31, 2020, 3:32 p.m.(5/22/1013 AR)
Relationship Note on Sirius
Prince Sirius, I am becoming increasingly worried that you don't actually know what ships are. I've sent you some literature on the subject, out of concern.
Written By Dycard
May 27, 2020, 7:01 p.m.(5/14/1013 AR)
Relationship Note on Sirius
Prince Sirius Valardin is perhaps unaware that I have spent a great deal of time and energy cultivating the image of the average rum-soaked swashbuckler, and is heedless of the damage he is causing to that reputation with his reckless praise. I ask that any reading his or my Whites discard his assessment of my character immediately.
Jokes aside, it's not for me to judge my own moral integrity and the quality of my character, so I shall simply be grateful that his Highness views me that way. He is right, my penchant for ships (not boats, my Prince, /ships./ You cause me minor but lasting pain whenever you confuse these terms) does make elements of the Capital far more bearable, and I recommend that if he ever feels trapped by duty or expectation that he get himself one. Honestly, sailing is not that hard.
Once I do finally acquire a caravel for Blackshore, he shall have to accompany me on a cruise and learn the basics. There's a certain liberation to a voyage, a feeling of simple fulfilment and peace to working with other minds and hands to make an vessel ride the wind. It's also fun; something that has been in short supply as of late.
Jokes aside, it's not for me to judge my own moral integrity and the quality of my character, so I shall simply be grateful that his Highness views me that way. He is right, my penchant for ships (not boats, my Prince, /ships./ You cause me minor but lasting pain whenever you confuse these terms) does make elements of the Capital far more bearable, and I recommend that if he ever feels trapped by duty or expectation that he get himself one. Honestly, sailing is not that hard.
Once I do finally acquire a caravel for Blackshore, he shall have to accompany me on a cruise and learn the basics. There's a certain liberation to a voyage, a feeling of simple fulfilment and peace to working with other minds and hands to make an vessel ride the wind. It's also fun; something that has been in short supply as of late.
Written By Dycard
May 18, 2020, 8:04 p.m.(4/24/1013 AR)
"Give what you can. And, I stress, give what you /actually/ can."
I will not pretend to be someone who lives like a pauper, scholar. To have privilege is one thing, to have it and deny its existence spits in the faces of those without it. I am a man of leisure, I enjoy and can afford fine food and drink without much consideration as to the cost, and appreciate a lavish party as much as the next Peer of the Realm. Hedonism has its appeal - if it didn't, we wouldn't indulge in it.
But this is not the time for feasts and parties, for displays of decadence in the capital when a stone's throw away, people question when (or if) their next meal will come.
I am not proposing that the Lords and Ladies of the city tear off their silks and don sack cloth, or that we trade in our every comfort for deliberately stale bread and brackish water. I do not think most of the impoverished in the Lowers are asking this of us, either - we all seek to have our basic needs fulfilled, and with them met, seek to make our lives more comfortable and pleasurable. But I implore anyone who takes an interest in my Whites to, as I was instructed when I plainly asked "How can we help," to give what they can.
Cancel that feast, for now. Reschedule or tone down that wedding. Give what you can, and show solidarity with those less fortunate. When the whirlpool finally ebbs and prosperity flows back into Arx, throw the mother of all parties to celebrate, if you feel the need.
We are in this together. Give what you actually can.
I will not pretend to be someone who lives like a pauper, scholar. To have privilege is one thing, to have it and deny its existence spits in the faces of those without it. I am a man of leisure, I enjoy and can afford fine food and drink without much consideration as to the cost, and appreciate a lavish party as much as the next Peer of the Realm. Hedonism has its appeal - if it didn't, we wouldn't indulge in it.
But this is not the time for feasts and parties, for displays of decadence in the capital when a stone's throw away, people question when (or if) their next meal will come.
I am not proposing that the Lords and Ladies of the city tear off their silks and don sack cloth, or that we trade in our every comfort for deliberately stale bread and brackish water. I do not think most of the impoverished in the Lowers are asking this of us, either - we all seek to have our basic needs fulfilled, and with them met, seek to make our lives more comfortable and pleasurable. But I implore anyone who takes an interest in my Whites to, as I was instructed when I plainly asked "How can we help," to give what they can.
Cancel that feast, for now. Reschedule or tone down that wedding. Give what you can, and show solidarity with those less fortunate. When the whirlpool finally ebbs and prosperity flows back into Arx, throw the mother of all parties to celebrate, if you feel the need.
We are in this together. Give what you actually can.
Written By Dycard
May 17, 2020, 7:26 a.m.(4/21/1013 AR)
My propensity for clumsy injury is becoming something of a habit, scholar. Yesterday I managed to get a barrel of pitch thrown at me - I don't mean that I was doused in pitch, though that happened too - I mean that the /entire barrel/ was hurled at me. I /think/ the ensuing crack was from the barrel breaking, though the lance of pain that shoots up my side whenever I move wrong suggests otherwise. I shall go see a healer once I have finished this record.
As for why the barrel was thrown - I am sure the records will describe the riot in the dockyards in detail, as the Iron Guard were present in force, but as knowledge and perspective seems to be lost so easily, this White will hopefully serve as a backup.
With the whirlpool in the bay, food has been scarce, and it's true that while the Uppers and the Wards have been effected only in that household chefs are having to pay more for finer foods, the Lower Boroughs have truly suffered. I had liked to think I had a good measure of the mood and the state of affairs in the dockyards, but I will admit that my privilege as a Peer blinded me to just how dire matters had gotten. That ignorance is my own failing, and I will own it.
With starvation becoming a real threat, and the disparity between the haves and the have-nots being more obvious and keenly felt than ever, resentment turned to desperate rage and a riot broke out in the docks. Historians will debate at length whether it was an inevitability, whether the civic leaders of Arx should have seen it coming and prevented it or not - it is my opinion that the kindling was carefully gathered by someone or several someones, but there is no proof of that. Either way, whether the fuel for the flames was gathered deliberately and whether the spark was struck with malicious intent, it's undeniable that the fuel itself existed due to the negligence and lethargy of the ruling class.
The details of the riot itself are rather simple - a throng of hundreds, if not thousands of disillusioned and starving commoners poured into the docks, intending to break into the warehouses. While this may be understandable, many in their number bore torches and pitch, and some were clearly as bent on vengeance and destruction as food.
Somehow, scholar - somehow, we managed to calm the situation. Lady Rodica saved the ships moored in the dockyards, and the Iron Guard showed commendable restraint, even with one of their own in danger. I personally opened one of the warehouses and somehow managed to distribute the food stored there in as close to an orderly fashion as possible - I am expecting an insensate letter from the owner any hour now - and while it would be hopelessly naive to suggest that nobody got hurt, I don't believe there were any fatalities. For one night, at least, the violence was quelled and the people fed.
The matter is far from resolved, however. The disparity between those of means - the Peerage, in particular - and those without is a severe problem, and the grievances of the hungry have merit. Something needs to be done about this.
I could forsake my title, convert my vessel into a hostel for the homeless, and so on - but I don't imagine that would do more than be a drop in the ocean. It's easy to say this from the comfort of my ship's cabin, dressed in a change of clean clothes after a warm bath, of course - but I truly don't believe trading disparity for anarchy will fix things.
So instead, I'll see what I can do to improve matters. One thing is for certain, that whirlpool's disruption of shipments has gone on long enough. If it cannot be quelled through prayer to the Faith or beseeching of the Spirits, we'll have to see if it can be overcome through simple determination and good sailing. That, at least, I can help with.
As for why the barrel was thrown - I am sure the records will describe the riot in the dockyards in detail, as the Iron Guard were present in force, but as knowledge and perspective seems to be lost so easily, this White will hopefully serve as a backup.
With the whirlpool in the bay, food has been scarce, and it's true that while the Uppers and the Wards have been effected only in that household chefs are having to pay more for finer foods, the Lower Boroughs have truly suffered. I had liked to think I had a good measure of the mood and the state of affairs in the dockyards, but I will admit that my privilege as a Peer blinded me to just how dire matters had gotten. That ignorance is my own failing, and I will own it.
With starvation becoming a real threat, and the disparity between the haves and the have-nots being more obvious and keenly felt than ever, resentment turned to desperate rage and a riot broke out in the docks. Historians will debate at length whether it was an inevitability, whether the civic leaders of Arx should have seen it coming and prevented it or not - it is my opinion that the kindling was carefully gathered by someone or several someones, but there is no proof of that. Either way, whether the fuel for the flames was gathered deliberately and whether the spark was struck with malicious intent, it's undeniable that the fuel itself existed due to the negligence and lethargy of the ruling class.
The details of the riot itself are rather simple - a throng of hundreds, if not thousands of disillusioned and starving commoners poured into the docks, intending to break into the warehouses. While this may be understandable, many in their number bore torches and pitch, and some were clearly as bent on vengeance and destruction as food.
Somehow, scholar - somehow, we managed to calm the situation. Lady Rodica saved the ships moored in the dockyards, and the Iron Guard showed commendable restraint, even with one of their own in danger. I personally opened one of the warehouses and somehow managed to distribute the food stored there in as close to an orderly fashion as possible - I am expecting an insensate letter from the owner any hour now - and while it would be hopelessly naive to suggest that nobody got hurt, I don't believe there were any fatalities. For one night, at least, the violence was quelled and the people fed.
The matter is far from resolved, however. The disparity between those of means - the Peerage, in particular - and those without is a severe problem, and the grievances of the hungry have merit. Something needs to be done about this.
I could forsake my title, convert my vessel into a hostel for the homeless, and so on - but I don't imagine that would do more than be a drop in the ocean. It's easy to say this from the comfort of my ship's cabin, dressed in a change of clean clothes after a warm bath, of course - but I truly don't believe trading disparity for anarchy will fix things.
So instead, I'll see what I can do to improve matters. One thing is for certain, that whirlpool's disruption of shipments has gone on long enough. If it cannot be quelled through prayer to the Faith or beseeching of the Spirits, we'll have to see if it can be overcome through simple determination and good sailing. That, at least, I can help with.
Written By Dycard
May 7, 2020, 10:38 p.m.(4/3/1013 AR)
I slept well last night, scholar - comparatively so anyway, all things considered.
The after-images of black waves, a swelling tide and a rising behemoth are still tattooed onto the inside of my eyelids, it seems, for they return to me every time I close my eyes - but I slept.
Setting down one's burden for a time is good for the spirit, it seems, and having a faithful friend take matters into her own hands in terms of my health - while a colossal breach of protocol that flies in the face of what I've attempted to teach her - was appreciated. Waking up to the first sunbeams of spring filtering through the glass to the aft of my cabin was also welcome.
This feels like a turning point - the tide rushes in but, eventually, it recedes as well.
Oh, and I have a new companion sharing my cabin with me, and that too has improved my mood and vitality greatly - she is adorable, delicate and keen to both give affection and receive it. She is exactly what I needed, I think.
I am referring of course to the kitten I was gifted, Scholar. Don't you look at me in that tone of voice.
The after-images of black waves, a swelling tide and a rising behemoth are still tattooed onto the inside of my eyelids, it seems, for they return to me every time I close my eyes - but I slept.
Setting down one's burden for a time is good for the spirit, it seems, and having a faithful friend take matters into her own hands in terms of my health - while a colossal breach of protocol that flies in the face of what I've attempted to teach her - was appreciated. Waking up to the first sunbeams of spring filtering through the glass to the aft of my cabin was also welcome.
This feels like a turning point - the tide rushes in but, eventually, it recedes as well.
Oh, and I have a new companion sharing my cabin with me, and that too has improved my mood and vitality greatly - she is adorable, delicate and keen to both give affection and receive it. She is exactly what I needed, I think.
I am referring of course to the kitten I was gifted, Scholar. Don't you look at me in that tone of voice.
Written By Dycard
April 26, 2020, 6:20 p.m.(3/8/1013 AR)
To resurrect a topic that dominated the journals for a time, scholar - I think I have come across some new personal insight into what love is, or what it means to some at least.
Love's not an instant thing. Attraction is, intimacy can be, even obsession can be at times - but I think love takes time and is a natural development of a friendship. It implies a level of attachment and care beyond one's baser callings and desires; something that builds and intensifies over time until it can't be called anything else.
..Or so I assume. Sadly there's no guarantee that as love swells for a person, it's risen for the other at the same pace - or even at all. However, even if it's not reciprocated, the saving grace of love of this kind is that it's built on a deep friendship and connection - even if it can never be, that friendship will still be there. And honestly, I think that a friend like that is of far more value than a lover.
Love's not an instant thing. Attraction is, intimacy can be, even obsession can be at times - but I think love takes time and is a natural development of a friendship. It implies a level of attachment and care beyond one's baser callings and desires; something that builds and intensifies over time until it can't be called anything else.
..Or so I assume. Sadly there's no guarantee that as love swells for a person, it's risen for the other at the same pace - or even at all. However, even if it's not reciprocated, the saving grace of love of this kind is that it's built on a deep friendship and connection - even if it can never be, that friendship will still be there. And honestly, I think that a friend like that is of far more value than a lover.
Written By Dycard
April 19, 2020, 6:40 p.m.(2/22/1013 AR)
The groundwork is laid. I still have more people to meet, to smile at and drink with to truly make this plan as prosperous as possible, but the basics are in place - Blackshore will take to the waves and hunt great beasts again, scholar, as we did in the Reckoning. The harpoons shall fly, we'll spill the blood of the ocean's whales on our shores, and the wind will fill our sails.
I would be lying if I didn't feel a sense of pride, standing at the prow of the Gambit and picturing us running the sea's bounty to ground. Do not mistake this for bloodlust - I find no enjoyment in the idea of the kill, but there *is* enjoyment and adrenaline to the hunt, the chase. To pitting our wills and our steel against the mighty beasts of the sea, and winning. The fact that this will put New Hope on the map and further our House's ambitions is but a bonus.
This does lead me to my other concerns, however. As I think of whaling and how it will better Blackshore, New Hope and our subjects, I cannot help but think of the legends that circulate about my family, and the last time we spilt the blood of great beasts on our shores. My uncle's dreams concern me, and my lack of direct progress in my investigations gnaws at the back of my mind as if the very thought itself is hungry. By the same token, when I am not distracted, particularly at night when sleep eludes me, my thoughts are called back to the sea.
Something is down there, scholar, in the unchartable depths. Its call has been quieted of late, but I cannot escape the feeling that it is only a matter of time before it calls again, with renewed strength.
I would be lying if I didn't feel a sense of pride, standing at the prow of the Gambit and picturing us running the sea's bounty to ground. Do not mistake this for bloodlust - I find no enjoyment in the idea of the kill, but there *is* enjoyment and adrenaline to the hunt, the chase. To pitting our wills and our steel against the mighty beasts of the sea, and winning. The fact that this will put New Hope on the map and further our House's ambitions is but a bonus.
This does lead me to my other concerns, however. As I think of whaling and how it will better Blackshore, New Hope and our subjects, I cannot help but think of the legends that circulate about my family, and the last time we spilt the blood of great beasts on our shores. My uncle's dreams concern me, and my lack of direct progress in my investigations gnaws at the back of my mind as if the very thought itself is hungry. By the same token, when I am not distracted, particularly at night when sleep eludes me, my thoughts are called back to the sea.
Something is down there, scholar, in the unchartable depths. Its call has been quieted of late, but I cannot escape the feeling that it is only a matter of time before it calls again, with renewed strength.
Written By Dycard
April 5, 2020, 6:21 a.m.(1/21/1013 AR)
I am also interested in knowing more about these sharkenoids. I can provide tales and evidence of abhorrently large man-eating crustaceans in exchange, if required.
Please note that the scholars may take some time preparing your journal for others to read.