Written By Harlex
Jan. 31, 2024, 11:37 a.m.(8/26/1021 AR)
You don't get to choose to be born. This is the first act of violence against you.
You are ripped into the world afraid, and I think it's safe to say most don't live in it ever shaking that fear.
We are told the way of things, we are chided for ignoring things, for trying to change things. We meet resistance for every step forward we take, many give up, many press forward.
There have been so many times in my life that I thought I could take the bitterness of it all and wrap it up around my neck and how many lives would I have saved, inadvertently, by this lone act of dark courage?
Yet I remained. I was driven, inexhaustibly, forward by something. By this quiet rage at the pit of my guts.
When I kill, I see the lives and know the names of those dead at my feet. I have seen whole stretches of lives wasted and some not, mothers and sons and daughters and fathers of all statures and character and all rich in textures you cannot fathom.
It has led me to a singular belief. That none of this, none of these things; heroism, cowardice, hate, love, greed or charity -- none of it matters. That we could be the most rotten, wicked, and stupid things ever spat from the mind of our creator, and we should still fight as hard as we have, down to our blood and our bones, until nothing is left.
You have the right to exist, its yours by blood.
Lets remind them that no matter how many times they wipe the slate, churn us to dust and spit out new and clueless babes, that we will find our way here again. Crawling and screaming into infinity.
And that they will break.
And we will always remember.
You are ripped into the world afraid, and I think it's safe to say most don't live in it ever shaking that fear.
We are told the way of things, we are chided for ignoring things, for trying to change things. We meet resistance for every step forward we take, many give up, many press forward.
There have been so many times in my life that I thought I could take the bitterness of it all and wrap it up around my neck and how many lives would I have saved, inadvertently, by this lone act of dark courage?
Yet I remained. I was driven, inexhaustibly, forward by something. By this quiet rage at the pit of my guts.
When I kill, I see the lives and know the names of those dead at my feet. I have seen whole stretches of lives wasted and some not, mothers and sons and daughters and fathers of all statures and character and all rich in textures you cannot fathom.
It has led me to a singular belief. That none of this, none of these things; heroism, cowardice, hate, love, greed or charity -- none of it matters. That we could be the most rotten, wicked, and stupid things ever spat from the mind of our creator, and we should still fight as hard as we have, down to our blood and our bones, until nothing is left.
You have the right to exist, its yours by blood.
Lets remind them that no matter how many times they wipe the slate, churn us to dust and spit out new and clueless babes, that we will find our way here again. Crawling and screaming into infinity.
And that they will break.
And we will always remember.
Written By Harlex
Nov. 29, 2022, 12:21 p.m.(12/15/1018 AR)
You build your legacies on the traditions of swords and a sword only serves one purpose.
So you have to assume that as long as the foundation for things is built on top of this, on sharpened steel, war will endure.
Which is fine for me. I am what the world has made me. I flourish in acres of blood.
But what they say, about living by the sword and dying by it, is true. True enough, anyway, for people.
True enough for nations then, I'd reckon.
So you have to assume that as long as the foundation for things is built on top of this, on sharpened steel, war will endure.
Which is fine for me. I am what the world has made me. I flourish in acres of blood.
But what they say, about living by the sword and dying by it, is true. True enough, anyway, for people.
True enough for nations then, I'd reckon.
Written By Harlex
Aug. 29, 2022, 8:44 p.m.(4/15/1018 AR)
Pat yourselves on the back but the flesh rots, the blood turns to dust and only the worm writhes victorious.
You have your memories. Thats good enough. You're afraid to forget, but the Wheel turns. Let it turn. You only ever want to honor the faces you know.
Scores lay dead now from these islander fools. Where are their statues? Applaud yourselves for the marble and jewels squandered to appease your little inconvenient sorrow.
Find something better to do with your gold and time.
This Compact is obsessed with the past. Traditions. Guidelines set in place by those who never lived as we live now.
Do something that counts for today or tomorrow.
You have your memories. Thats good enough. You're afraid to forget, but the Wheel turns. Let it turn. You only ever want to honor the faces you know.
Scores lay dead now from these islander fools. Where are their statues? Applaud yourselves for the marble and jewels squandered to appease your little inconvenient sorrow.
Find something better to do with your gold and time.
This Compact is obsessed with the past. Traditions. Guidelines set in place by those who never lived as we live now.
Do something that counts for today or tomorrow.
Written By Harlex
July 8, 2022, 10:56 a.m.(12/20/1017 AR)
Relationship Note on Rosalind
I understand. You bend the knee and they put Lady or Lord in front of your name, you have to maintain a certain image.
You hunt still because you enjoy the thrill of it, not because you have to, if you chose to hang it up -- some servant of yours would still bring you meals. Your hearth would still be hot. Your fields tilled and all you sow, reaped.
Furs and oaken, uncomfortable chairs do not absolve you of being a noble.
It is what it is.
You hunt still because you enjoy the thrill of it, not because you have to, if you chose to hang it up -- some servant of yours would still bring you meals. Your hearth would still be hot. Your fields tilled and all you sow, reaped.
Furs and oaken, uncomfortable chairs do not absolve you of being a noble.
It is what it is.
Written By Harlex
July 6, 2022, 5:13 p.m.(12/16/1017 AR)
The first chance they get, the silk puts a sword into the hand of their children.
They teach them how to kill. How to keep what generations before have taken.
First lesson among commoners, however, is how not to die.
I suppose that's why there's so few farmers or masons in the Hall of Heroes.
They teach them how to kill. How to keep what generations before have taken.
First lesson among commoners, however, is how not to die.
I suppose that's why there's so few farmers or masons in the Hall of Heroes.
Written By Harlex
June 26, 2022, 1:29 p.m.(11/24/1017 AR)
In the end, it's the weight of coffers that determine the value of your life.
There is nothing in this world beyond the reach of coin.
For a long time I have tried to find more than this, but it isn't so. Slavery, faith, a pauper's pit and a king's tomb. Coin is the thing.
Everyone I've ever killed was either for coin put in my hand or theirs.
In the end, you're a number. A line in a ledger. Hundreds memorialized in a dash of ink, while civility is restored with donation.
Their dramas and sanctimonious ideals will be what they send you to die for, that ain't likely to change.
So take them for all their worth, soldier.
There is nothing in this world beyond the reach of coin.
For a long time I have tried to find more than this, but it isn't so. Slavery, faith, a pauper's pit and a king's tomb. Coin is the thing.
Everyone I've ever killed was either for coin put in my hand or theirs.
In the end, you're a number. A line in a ledger. Hundreds memorialized in a dash of ink, while civility is restored with donation.
Their dramas and sanctimonious ideals will be what they send you to die for, that ain't likely to change.
So take them for all their worth, soldier.
Written By Harlex
June 19, 2022, 10:21 a.m.(11/10/1017 AR)
Cowards will fight to the last rather than give up their comfort.
And a foot soldier willing to die for the rich to keep their slaves is a special kind of fool.
And a foot soldier willing to die for the rich to keep their slaves is a special kind of fool.
Written By Harlex
May 3, 2022, 9:34 a.m.(7/28/1017 AR)
It was late and I was trying to walk back to the Estate, enjoy a smoke, listen to the city when it's quiet for a damn change. All the sudden I saw a bug-eyed lord, drunk off his ass, leap into a bush.
Causing a commotion about a wolf man. Something about 'tell my wife I'll stop going to the grotto three times a day.'
Foolishness. Flicked my smoke at him, told him to get, and he went off hollering thanks.
For folks who love their cups, some of these Lycene sure get lost in them.
Causing a commotion about a wolf man. Something about 'tell my wife I'll stop going to the grotto three times a day.'
Foolishness. Flicked my smoke at him, told him to get, and he went off hollering thanks.
For folks who love their cups, some of these Lycene sure get lost in them.
Written By Harlex
Nov. 29, 2021, 4:41 p.m.(8/27/1016 AR)
Relationship Note on Vitalis
The opposite of unity is strife, not freedom. If you're going to be contrary, do it right.
You people commit a lot more damn crimes with ink and quill than I ever saw a highwayman pull with a straight blade.
You people commit a lot more damn crimes with ink and quill than I ever saw a highwayman pull with a straight blade.
Written By Harlex
Nov. 16, 2020, 4:36 p.m.(5/24/1014 AR)
Most choices for a commoner come down to how much worse off will I be, when the dust settles.
You can bolster a soldier with words like freedom, honor and duty but you can't feed those to starving families and you're a damned idiot if you try.
Keep that in mind. Tend to see folks get carried away with all the big words when the fighting is about to start.
You can bolster a soldier with words like freedom, honor and duty but you can't feed those to starving families and you're a damned idiot if you try.
Keep that in mind. Tend to see folks get carried away with all the big words when the fighting is about to start.
Written By Harlex
Oct. 30, 2020, 9:40 a.m.(4/17/1014 AR)
It wasn't like the dreams I often have. I was young and I rode with the Dead Crows through a dark forest. We were riding hard so I could only guess what bloody work we went to do. Pye, Burke. The Lieutenant. They were all there. Even Nazares, who rode ahead for I could see his greasy black hair down his back and that saber he rattled.
Did I know this place? Is it a memory?
I breathed cold air from my lungs. I could hear our mad laughter and horse hooves beating the earth.
Then it just went numb. Silent.
I stopped and the Crows ran ahead and went on someplace else while I remained. She was there through the pines, through the snow. Barefoot, I think. Her hair as black as a raven's secret heart. Her eyes so blue they made everything else look saturated in their glow. She was running from someone. Her skirts were all hiked, her pale legs were carrying her but -- is she smiling in the dream? Does she know that I watch?
I go to follow and when I do I'm in a burning village. No one in particular. Just every burning village I've ever stood in, flames lapping at my face. Scent of cinder and flesh. There's smoke and chaos. I cannot find her anywhere I look and I wade through the blood thick as mud.
Then I woke up not long after that, just the way these things go.
Did I know this place? Is it a memory?
I breathed cold air from my lungs. I could hear our mad laughter and horse hooves beating the earth.
Then it just went numb. Silent.
I stopped and the Crows ran ahead and went on someplace else while I remained. She was there through the pines, through the snow. Barefoot, I think. Her hair as black as a raven's secret heart. Her eyes so blue they made everything else look saturated in their glow. She was running from someone. Her skirts were all hiked, her pale legs were carrying her but -- is she smiling in the dream? Does she know that I watch?
I go to follow and when I do I'm in a burning village. No one in particular. Just every burning village I've ever stood in, flames lapping at my face. Scent of cinder and flesh. There's smoke and chaos. I cannot find her anywhere I look and I wade through the blood thick as mud.
Then I woke up not long after that, just the way these things go.
Written By Harlex
Oct. 3, 2020, 5:26 p.m.(2/20/1014 AR)
In a recent conversation I had, I spoke about how vividly I remember the first man I killed. It was a conflict between two lords over the borderland of their domains.
They settled it with steel and blood.
It has been well over a decade and some years since that battle. Skirmish. However it's to be defined. Those lords, as I have come to learn, now break bread with one another, they look back upon this feud the way lovers look upon their first spats. A mistake made in the heat of passion. It must be a pleasure to be so distant from our choices.
The names of those who died for them are as grass, flattened under foot.
But I will not forget.
They settled it with steel and blood.
It has been well over a decade and some years since that battle. Skirmish. However it's to be defined. Those lords, as I have come to learn, now break bread with one another, they look back upon this feud the way lovers look upon their first spats. A mistake made in the heat of passion. It must be a pleasure to be so distant from our choices.
The names of those who died for them are as grass, flattened under foot.
But I will not forget.
Written By Harlex
Sept. 10, 2020, 10:17 a.m.(1/1/1014 AR)
Relationship Note on Gabriella
Self-sacrifice. A ruler should be concerned with the grievances of their people and seek to fix them constantly, until it leaves them haggard. They organize others, when things must be organized, and otherwise keep to themselves.
That would be the only way to justify someone being in a position above their fellow man.
False superiority. If they demand celebration for themselves, if they believe they are superior to others for intangible things such as lineage or blood, this is the most damning.
That would be the only way to justify someone being in a position above their fellow man.
False superiority. If they demand celebration for themselves, if they believe they are superior to others for intangible things such as lineage or blood, this is the most damning.
Written By Harlex
Aug. 29, 2020, 11:22 a.m.(12/5/1013 AR)
I have been taking challenges outside of the city. It has given me time to travel, ride the long roads. Hone my skill.
Most have been amicable. Most just wish to test their mettle against the Sword of Lenosia. These matches end in bruises and drink. I have no taste for sport, but whiskey — that can stay plentiful.
In Southport I had come to duel an instructor at the Academy, a private match. She was an adherent to the traditional Lycene fencing; let it not be said that the old ways are less dangerous. The bout was good. I struck her four times and received only two blows.
Underestimated the flexibility of those damned rapiers.
When I was through with the city I quit from it and headed to a small coastal town outside. A place called Megaris. It was here a mercenary had tracked me down. A lancer named Llis, who had heard of my duel with the instructor.
He wished to try his hand. He didn’t care for play-fighting.
So I obliged him.
As he laid dying, his blood soaked up into the stones, I knelt by his side. He laughed when I did this and said, “What’s one more to you?”
That stuck with me, on the ride back to Arx.
Most have been amicable. Most just wish to test their mettle against the Sword of Lenosia. These matches end in bruises and drink. I have no taste for sport, but whiskey — that can stay plentiful.
In Southport I had come to duel an instructor at the Academy, a private match. She was an adherent to the traditional Lycene fencing; let it not be said that the old ways are less dangerous. The bout was good. I struck her four times and received only two blows.
Underestimated the flexibility of those damned rapiers.
When I was through with the city I quit from it and headed to a small coastal town outside. A place called Megaris. It was here a mercenary had tracked me down. A lancer named Llis, who had heard of my duel with the instructor.
He wished to try his hand. He didn’t care for play-fighting.
So I obliged him.
As he laid dying, his blood soaked up into the stones, I knelt by his side. He laughed when I did this and said, “What’s one more to you?”
That stuck with me, on the ride back to Arx.
Written By Harlex
May 20, 2020, 11:37 a.m.(4/28/1013 AR)
A person's value is not determined by their skill in a trade.
If that were true I wouldn't know as many Lords and Ladies who couldn't lace their own trousers or corsets without a team of servants.
When you design a world where some are inherently more valuable than others, you breed resentment. If you're a noble, you do not get to tell someone the path to a good and decent life is in their blood, sweat and tears.
Systems and handouts and charity will only stifle the growth of the divide. It will still exist. The Have's and the Have-Nots. Your status quo.
As it goes -- let me be clear -- I don't particularly give two shits.
I killed my way to where I am, I never lied to myself that anyone who called themselves a ruler or leader gave a fuck about some mercenary who cost them less than a bar of rubicund. I've always known I can't make the world a better place with the skillset I have -- just bleed it a little while I'm here.
But the thing you must remember is this:
Your enemies did not do this to you. You've been doing this to yourselves for hundreds of years. It's been waiting on a thin point for a long time. Waiting for just the right push.
If that were true I wouldn't know as many Lords and Ladies who couldn't lace their own trousers or corsets without a team of servants.
When you design a world where some are inherently more valuable than others, you breed resentment. If you're a noble, you do not get to tell someone the path to a good and decent life is in their blood, sweat and tears.
Systems and handouts and charity will only stifle the growth of the divide. It will still exist. The Have's and the Have-Nots. Your status quo.
As it goes -- let me be clear -- I don't particularly give two shits.
I killed my way to where I am, I never lied to myself that anyone who called themselves a ruler or leader gave a fuck about some mercenary who cost them less than a bar of rubicund. I've always known I can't make the world a better place with the skillset I have -- just bleed it a little while I'm here.
But the thing you must remember is this:
Your enemies did not do this to you. You've been doing this to yourselves for hundreds of years. It's been waiting on a thin point for a long time. Waiting for just the right push.
Written By Harlex
March 21, 2020, 7:47 p.m.(12/20/1012 AR)
Relationship Note on Juniper
I can't say I'll ever understand. The damned world asks too much and yields so little. What's the point of any of this?
I want to let this prove some bitterness in me is vindicated. That I am right.
But that would be a disservice to you. Wouldn't it?
I'll try to be hopeful instead.
You were my dearest friend after all. I have so few left.
That's all I have to say.
See you around, June, on the next one.
I want to let this prove some bitterness in me is vindicated. That I am right.
But that would be a disservice to you. Wouldn't it?
I'll try to be hopeful instead.
You were my dearest friend after all. I have so few left.
That's all I have to say.
See you around, June, on the next one.
Written By Harlex
Feb. 17, 2020, 11:59 p.m.(10.355028935185185/13.88162037037037/1012.7795857445988 AR)
I've known an empty stomach. It's an awful pain. Makes brigands of good soldiers. Makes loving families into hateful ones. It's been a couple years since I've had to worry about meals, scraping by like I use to on the road.
Yet still, at times, I remember. Mostly when I see food wasted. Mostly when I see a loaf of bread clutched in a child's hand like it was the difference between life and death.
What kind of world have we built?
I take enough lives in my trade. I think, this once, I gave back without paying that blood price.
Worse legacies one can leave behind. Maybe it will do some good.
Yet still, at times, I remember. Mostly when I see food wasted. Mostly when I see a loaf of bread clutched in a child's hand like it was the difference between life and death.
What kind of world have we built?
I take enough lives in my trade. I think, this once, I gave back without paying that blood price.
Worse legacies one can leave behind. Maybe it will do some good.
Written By Harlex
Feb. 8, 2020, 1:30 p.m.(9.577842261904761/19.359166666666667/1012.714820188492 AR)
In the quiet of the afternoon I meditated on the ledge, looking out at the forest below, only a few days until I returned to Arx.
I considered the individuality of each leaf on a tree and their similarities and how those few traits unique to each can be fascinating but ultimately meaningless.
In the end it isn't the leaf but the tree which it has fallen from or resides attached that matters.
And even this one tree which contains so much abundant life is one of many in the forest. Things went outward from this thought and I'm uncertain if there's a conclusion.
We understand so little. Extraordinary and pathetic all at once. Loud in our lives and quiet to the greater whole of existence.
That even the worst horror comitted by the wickedest demon is a disturbance, a rattle, against a greater scope. A concern only to the tree of which it occurs. Its sound barely a whisper when it reaches far off trees on the outskirts.
These thoughts too are futile. They lead me to nothing. As an animal to it's own reflection. A momentary awareness of more before the hunt continues. So it goes.
I considered the individuality of each leaf on a tree and their similarities and how those few traits unique to each can be fascinating but ultimately meaningless.
In the end it isn't the leaf but the tree which it has fallen from or resides attached that matters.
And even this one tree which contains so much abundant life is one of many in the forest. Things went outward from this thought and I'm uncertain if there's a conclusion.
We understand so little. Extraordinary and pathetic all at once. Loud in our lives and quiet to the greater whole of existence.
That even the worst horror comitted by the wickedest demon is a disturbance, a rattle, against a greater scope. A concern only to the tree of which it occurs. Its sound barely a whisper when it reaches far off trees on the outskirts.
These thoughts too are futile. They lead me to nothing. As an animal to it's own reflection. A momentary awareness of more before the hunt continues. So it goes.
Written By Harlex
Jan. 30, 2020, 3:28 p.m.(8.941190889550263/32.706689814814816/1012.6617659074625 AR)
Relationship Note on Miranda
I think you greatly misunderstand the situation.
I hope someone educates you, for the sake of any soldiers under your command.
I hope someone educates you, for the sake of any soldiers under your command.
Written By Harlex
Jan. 16, 2020, 10:55 a.m.(7/27/1012 AR)
Relationship Note on Emilia
Your first mistake was thinking people and dogs are interchangeable. A dog is whatever it is, it's a simple creature. It lacks our self deception.
I speak as someone who has fought you, there is righteousness and a desire to do good - but there is, too, a ruthless killer. A blooded soldier. Both things are true.
As you have two eyes or two hands. A back and front. A smile and a scowl.
Spend some time before the mirror. See the girl who killed. Learn her, accept her as part of yourself. You will find your way. Or she'll kill you. Those are the options.
The path of violence is a hard one.
It doesn't matter how you dress it up, once those convictions slip.
If you wish to speak. You know how to reach me, little white hawk.
I speak as someone who has fought you, there is righteousness and a desire to do good - but there is, too, a ruthless killer. A blooded soldier. Both things are true.
As you have two eyes or two hands. A back and front. A smile and a scowl.
Spend some time before the mirror. See the girl who killed. Learn her, accept her as part of yourself. You will find your way. Or she'll kill you. Those are the options.
The path of violence is a hard one.
It doesn't matter how you dress it up, once those convictions slip.
If you wish to speak. You know how to reach me, little white hawk.
Please note that the scholars may take some time preparing your journal for others to read.