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Written By Freja

Dec. 17, 2017, 11:53 p.m.(10/16/1007 AR)

It is impeccable timing on my husband's behalf to travel North, back to Aviaron to see to new building plans just as I am preparing a meeting for the Northern Fealty here in Arx.

Short Summary: There is no lack of things to do. If you need a place, a job, or some aim it can be found. Any lack of purpose I consider laziness on the individual's part. Send word if you wish to find direction. I have suggestions aplenty.

Written By Freja

Dec. 7, 2017, 3:13 p.m.(9/22/1007 AR)

Relationship Note on Victus

Silly? The High Lord dares to call me silly. I find it silly to brag about being able to toss about a Princess half your weight. Superstitions and our other business aside, I will still drink you under the table you ass. I mean, your ass-ness. Smooches.

Written By Freja

Dec. 7, 2017, 10:28 a.m.(9/22/1007 AR)

Any and all, given recent threats, that care to still regard the North as 'silly' and ' superstitious ' are welcome to visit with me. I will even share my best whisky.

Written By Freja

Nov. 26, 2017, 8:27 p.m.(9/1/1007 AR)

Relationship Note on Mae

She always seems to find me whenever I am seeking solace in the temple, but then again it seems to be her knack to find you where-ever. She was a messenger at one point in time. The conversation is always lively and enjoyable, in spite of those damned bells. Good luck in your new appointment of office; I'm certain you'll be ringing in your new post with tact.

Written By Freja

Nov. 13, 2017, 6:13 p.m.(7/28/1007 AR)

The best way to settle a dispute with my darling dear is in the furs. As a Redrain; bear.

Yelling is optional, or reliant, on efforts applied.

Written By Freja

Nov. 13, 2017, 2:14 p.m.(7/28/1007 AR)

Relationship Note on Calista

I've never bothered with the rest of the saying myself; I don't make it a habit of giving them a chance to dodge my axes to begin with. Ask High Lord Victus about his 'haircut' some time - the Redrain special.

But please, drinking horns and conspiring soon!

Written By Freja

Nov. 13, 2017, 2:12 p.m.(7/28/1007 AR)

Relationship Note on Mydas

At least they are empty and not half full; your wife is not a wasteful one.

I believe the Duchess Calista has the right of it though, there are better things to make you writhe other than tossing axes at you.

I'll find you a rosegold something to make up for it?

Written By Freja

Nov. 13, 2017, 10:20 a.m.(7/28/1007 AR)

The mistake my husband seems to be making is in the assumption that I only have the few weapons, rather than the many.

Smooches.

Written By Freja

Nov. 13, 2017, 2:12 a.m.(7/27/1007 AR)

It appears to be a fashion as of late to throw vases at one's husband; mother's lessons never quite covered that.

I do, however, have rather good aim.

Unfortunately, that aim comes with a penchant for axes.

Sorry, not sorry, Mydas.

That which does not kill you only makes you stronger - or ensures I'm always right in our arguments.

Written By Freja

Oct. 24, 2017, 10:15 p.m.(6/17/1007 AR)

Relationship Note on Calypso

Darling, I didn't tell you about the wall because at this point I had figured you had already constructed a wall of skulls of your own.

At least catch up to my settee of skulls.

Next up? A goblet.

Written By Freja

Oct. 12, 2017, 4:22 p.m.(5/20/1007 AR)

I still remember those many years back, a small eternity now that it seems, when you didn't come back.

Valeria's sword did, but you didn't. I've never forgiven you for it and I don't know if Fergus ever will either.

You and mother were the same in that; no bodies returning home for your children's final farewell.

The past few weeks I've poured over my maps I've constructed over my years scouting the Northlands, helping to plan with our allies to plot the course of Farhaven's newest military endeavor. The banners have been called, Vassals rallied, and to the snows we march once again.

The estate has been a tempest of activity in preparation, but even in the flurry I still only think what if I follow the example set?

Of the Spirits I ask send home only my axes, hang them in the Halls and carve my name upon the stone.

I am my father's daughter, one of Torrud's Brood, and I daresay I do not deserve the honor if he never was.

Written By Freja

Oct. 1, 2017, 8:48 p.m.(4/26/1007 AR)

*A drawing of a charcoal skull, its jaw cracked in a ghastly grin. A single rune, meaningless perhaps save only for its maker, is on the forehead and is divided in two by a single crack that travels up the crown of the cranium. From that fissure rises wisps of black, smokey charcoal swirls. In each eye, and the only color on this page, a golden coin. Below the quick sketch is the single word: "Liberation." *

Written By Freja

Sept. 21, 2017, 2:56 p.m.(4/4/1007 AR)

To be honest, all of my father's children are caustic assholes.

Anze, you're included in this.

Well, minus myself of course! I'm the darling daughter, the baby, that has yet to cause a near political disaster. Yet.

I love them dearly though, admire them not only for what they have done and accomplished (blind to the public eye apparently), but also for what they continue to do.

Edain's gilded tongue is far more eloquent than my own.

Written By Freja

Sept. 21, 2017, 2:06 p.m.(4/4/1007 AR)

Relationship Note on Ira

I do not make it a habit of reading other journals, for I have you know...impending threats against the lives of my people to contend with, but I do have one of my men keep an ear out for when my name is mentioned.

Poetry, attributed to me over a pun it seems?

It isn't often I get and admirer, if ever. Let alone one I have never met.

If this 'crazed alchemist' is so inclined, I like whiskey, flowers, poetry, and long walks through the battlefield over the enemies I have bested.

Beaches on moonlit nights are -so- last year.

Written By Freja

Sept. 21, 2017, 11:17 a.m.(4/4/1007 AR)

I find all of this lively debate on the Thraxian economic structure simply....enthralling.


*There is a scribe's note that the Redrain Princess erupted into a fit of giggles and a facepalm was heard a few desks down from where the scribe sat.*

Written By Freja

Sept. 18, 2017, 10:17 a.m.(3/26/1007 AR)

I should be dead, but I suppose I have a touch of Rathlander in me after all. There wasn't a ringing in the ears, seeing red or anything...just an odd rush of adrenaline and even more peculiar calm/focus.

But fuck if it didn't hurt.

Losses incurred, but weapons secured.

Written By Freja

Sept. 14, 2017, 10:20 a.m.(3/18/1007 AR)

When I was a child, my brothers in a typical showing of overall tormenting the baby sister, held me down and shaved my head. Mother was of course horrifed, father amused but putting on the show of punishing them.

I got even in my own way and still they are wary of me when I am suddenly somewhere where I wasn't a second ago. Good times.

That aside, perhaps we are just made of sterner stuff in the North. Recent slights perceived are so trite to me it makes me wonder if any one of them could have survived a childhood with my brothers. We play rough, talk rough, and for the most part avoid garish colors when trying to be on the offensive when trying to best and be discreet about maneuvers against something that wants to fucking kill us. One of multiple things, really. I never knew armor to be so ornate, but skin so thin.

Written By Freja

Aug. 30, 2017, 7:28 a.m.(2/12/1007 AR)

See? This is why we shouldn't bother with dresses. Furs and leathers, armor. Now there is a fine style.

Written By Freja

Aug. 13, 2017, 9:14 p.m.(1/7/1007 AR)

So many bemoaning the tepid, mild winter of the South - come to the North. We'll show you a lovely ol' time.

Find yourself running in scant leathers from an avalanche in a snowstorm, then come talk to me.

Written By Freja

July 31, 2017, 9:48 a.m.(12/8/1006 AR)

North again, back to my snows.

Brothers are wed and there is some relative calm now, allowing a lull in which I can visit Farhaven again.

The best part? The quiet.

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