Written By Martin in Black Journal
July 18, 2018, 10:24 p.m.(3/19/1009 AR)
To be released upon my death,
This is the last will and testament of myself, Brother Martin Risbee, Godsworn priest of the Faith of the Pantheon. Considering my advanced age, this is not the first will I have ever written. However, unless Death's sense of humor is more perverse than I have been lead to understand, it is likely to be the last. (For those of you who have never written one before, you may find them daunting, even depressing, but once you write four or five, you begin to see the funny side of it all).
As a devotee of Gild, the Kind Goddess, I swore a personal vow of poverty many, many years ago. The Church has always taken care of my needs, and more than bread and board I have no want for. Since returning to Arx, though, I have managed to set aside a sizable sum of goods and silver. While I intend to use them for certain charitable pursuits, in the event that I cannot do so before I return to the Wheel, then I wish for the Church to donate what funds I possess to the Knights of Solace. I spent a goodly portion of my youth with them, and I would like be able to give back, and hopefully provide other young men and women with the same wonderful experience and opportunity that was afforded to me.
As for those other goods I have been squirreling away, I would like them to be given to Sir Jeffeth Bayweather, along with my gold pendent depicting Gild. I should also like him to know that he and Andry were the best grandsons the Gods could have given me, no matter that we are not related by blood.
((Scholars note: Released posthumously))
This is the last will and testament of myself, Brother Martin Risbee, Godsworn priest of the Faith of the Pantheon. Considering my advanced age, this is not the first will I have ever written. However, unless Death's sense of humor is more perverse than I have been lead to understand, it is likely to be the last. (For those of you who have never written one before, you may find them daunting, even depressing, but once you write four or five, you begin to see the funny side of it all).
As a devotee of Gild, the Kind Goddess, I swore a personal vow of poverty many, many years ago. The Church has always taken care of my needs, and more than bread and board I have no want for. Since returning to Arx, though, I have managed to set aside a sizable sum of goods and silver. While I intend to use them for certain charitable pursuits, in the event that I cannot do so before I return to the Wheel, then I wish for the Church to donate what funds I possess to the Knights of Solace. I spent a goodly portion of my youth with them, and I would like be able to give back, and hopefully provide other young men and women with the same wonderful experience and opportunity that was afforded to me.
As for those other goods I have been squirreling away, I would like them to be given to Sir Jeffeth Bayweather, along with my gold pendent depicting Gild. I should also like him to know that he and Andry were the best grandsons the Gods could have given me, no matter that we are not related by blood.
((Scholars note: Released posthumously))
Written By Martin
June 16, 2018, 2:19 p.m.(1/10/1009 AR)
Relationship Note on Orathy
While it is true that the choice of children is severely limited when compared to that of adults, it is a fallacy to conflate the helplessness of a child with that of a man or woman grown. To whit, your argument that this impostor of the original Aurelian had no choice loses its emotional potency when you consider House Valardin itself. I doubt not at all that this once-boy was raised with love and affection, and was taught right from wrong. I believe he had every chance as he grew into a man to confess his wretched predicament to those who genuinely believed him to be their flesh and blood.
He had the choice to come forward. He had the choice, as he became an adult, to do either right or wrong. He chose to do wrong, and has since suffered the terrible repercussions of that. While it is fair to mourn the child he once was, to openly attack others, especially those who were close to the impostor, and then use as a shield circumstances which few can argue with only shows you in a mean-spirited light which does nothing to honor the ideals the gods have left us with, or our fellow man.
He had the choice to come forward. He had the choice, as he became an adult, to do either right or wrong. He chose to do wrong, and has since suffered the terrible repercussions of that. While it is fair to mourn the child he once was, to openly attack others, especially those who were close to the impostor, and then use as a shield circumstances which few can argue with only shows you in a mean-spirited light which does nothing to honor the ideals the gods have left us with, or our fellow man.
Written By Martin
May 8, 2018, 3:45 a.m.(9/14/1008 AR)
As a member of the Faith who's primary devotion is to Gild, I have a few thoughts about the recent popular topic dominating the White Journals these past few days. That is, the matter concerning recompense by nobles for their time in the teaching of this or that skill that they might possess. I am aware there is also another, perhaps equally popular debate in regards to marital oaths, but that is a subject for another journal.
My first question would be whether we as a nation consider knowledge to be free. Acting as both student and teacher in this bit of personal postulation, I say that we do not consider all knowledge to be free. Consider our Black Reflections. Now, the student may argue that they do not count, that privacy is not the same as monetary payment. The student would be right. But value need not always be paid in coin. This is where things grow thorny, but not so much that we cannot wade through the tangled bushes. Upon everything a value is placed. This scale is immense simply because it can change from person to person, and even amongst individuals, it may change over time. Therefore I say that our Black Reflections are not free knowledge because the value we place upon them is privacy. As a society, from highest to lowest, this privacy is respected without question or quarrel. Indeed, it is sancrosanct. I need not go into too much detail concerning the Silent Reflections to make my point any stronger.
The student is still not convinced. A simple argument using the Black Reflections does not sway the opposition. Very well, I am prepared to offer more. Look yon to the Inquisition. I hope that the Master of Questions will forgive me for making his institution a target, but I also trust he will understand that the same is also a very big, easy target to hit. Especially for an old man. To whit, the Inquisition gathers information about unsavory subjects that good and upstanding citizens rarely think about, and even less believe plausible. If the House of Questions has been renamed to the House of Answers, I was unaware of it. To my knowledge, the Inquisition is not in the habit of dispensing their information freely, if at all, to just anyone. They obviously place a high value on that which they learn, and in this case it is not simply privacy and discretion, it is safety. It is also the law, as the Inquisition is an arm of the Crown that investigates all crimes that catch its interest that are not subject to the the Iron Guard.
Now, we may argue whether such is right or wrong, but, again, this is not that journal.
So, we have established that knowledge is not considered free amongst an institution of the Crown itself, as well as on an individual basis amongst every member of the Compact. I give one more example! That of the Scholars themselves. Some knowledge may be considered too dangerous for the public, and is judged by the Censor Librorum whether it must be sealed away or may be released to the public, going through the process of 'nihil obstat' of release to the Scholars Superior for judgment if questionable, 'imprimi potest' by the Superiors to the Arch Scholar if possibly permissible, and the Arch Scholar finally declaring a dangerous work as 'imprimatur' if it can be shown to the public despite its risk. I realize this may seem as though I am merely rehashing what I have already made an example of with the Inquisition, but repetition can sometimes help to drive a point home.
I now come to my next question: are we free to choose?
This is the easiest answer by far, especially since the resurgence of Skald into our collective memory. We are indeed free to choose! We are free to choose what value we place upon our knowledge, our skills, and our time. We are, blessedly, free to associate with whom we will. What this means is that we are free from compulsion to...buy from this or that shop, to pay the price asked for by another for whatever service they advertise for whatever reasons we may have. And we are certainly free not to explain ourselves when it comes to those reasons. We are free to our opinions, though that means others are free to criticize them. More often than not, people are not so thick-skinned as they like to believe, so I always advise caution when putting ink to parchment, and, gods know, words from tongue.
Our world is rife with peril, it is also an imperfect one in which we all, it is hoped, aspire to better even as we better ourselves. Arvum is blessed in that illiteracy is practically unheard of. The Scholars of Vellichor are tireless, dedicated workers in practically any field of knowledge you may dare to think of. If there are those, and I know that there are, who feel as though they are lacking in some way, and simply cannot afford to spend hard-earned coin on tutelage from whomever might be charging for it, I urge anyone and everyone to first seek out the Scholars. It will likely only cost you your time, and a bit of effort put forth to make the instruction stick.
In conclusion, I wish to impart a few final thoughts: we all worship Vellichor when we engage in instruction as well as learning. If you read a White Journal or overhear something you strongly disagree with, before lashing out with heated words, consider what you might instead say to better educate the other of their folly...if folly it may be and not simple disagreement. It is not only pleasing to Vellichor that another should learn, it is also charitable of spirit, which pleases Gild, as well as honorable, which pleases Gloria. Our every action, which stems from Choice, in some way touches upon a godly tenant from which we should all desire to do our best by.
My first question would be whether we as a nation consider knowledge to be free. Acting as both student and teacher in this bit of personal postulation, I say that we do not consider all knowledge to be free. Consider our Black Reflections. Now, the student may argue that they do not count, that privacy is not the same as monetary payment. The student would be right. But value need not always be paid in coin. This is where things grow thorny, but not so much that we cannot wade through the tangled bushes. Upon everything a value is placed. This scale is immense simply because it can change from person to person, and even amongst individuals, it may change over time. Therefore I say that our Black Reflections are not free knowledge because the value we place upon them is privacy. As a society, from highest to lowest, this privacy is respected without question or quarrel. Indeed, it is sancrosanct. I need not go into too much detail concerning the Silent Reflections to make my point any stronger.
The student is still not convinced. A simple argument using the Black Reflections does not sway the opposition. Very well, I am prepared to offer more. Look yon to the Inquisition. I hope that the Master of Questions will forgive me for making his institution a target, but I also trust he will understand that the same is also a very big, easy target to hit. Especially for an old man. To whit, the Inquisition gathers information about unsavory subjects that good and upstanding citizens rarely think about, and even less believe plausible. If the House of Questions has been renamed to the House of Answers, I was unaware of it. To my knowledge, the Inquisition is not in the habit of dispensing their information freely, if at all, to just anyone. They obviously place a high value on that which they learn, and in this case it is not simply privacy and discretion, it is safety. It is also the law, as the Inquisition is an arm of the Crown that investigates all crimes that catch its interest that are not subject to the the Iron Guard.
Now, we may argue whether such is right or wrong, but, again, this is not that journal.
So, we have established that knowledge is not considered free amongst an institution of the Crown itself, as well as on an individual basis amongst every member of the Compact. I give one more example! That of the Scholars themselves. Some knowledge may be considered too dangerous for the public, and is judged by the Censor Librorum whether it must be sealed away or may be released to the public, going through the process of 'nihil obstat' of release to the Scholars Superior for judgment if questionable, 'imprimi potest' by the Superiors to the Arch Scholar if possibly permissible, and the Arch Scholar finally declaring a dangerous work as 'imprimatur' if it can be shown to the public despite its risk. I realize this may seem as though I am merely rehashing what I have already made an example of with the Inquisition, but repetition can sometimes help to drive a point home.
I now come to my next question: are we free to choose?
This is the easiest answer by far, especially since the resurgence of Skald into our collective memory. We are indeed free to choose! We are free to choose what value we place upon our knowledge, our skills, and our time. We are, blessedly, free to associate with whom we will. What this means is that we are free from compulsion to...buy from this or that shop, to pay the price asked for by another for whatever service they advertise for whatever reasons we may have. And we are certainly free not to explain ourselves when it comes to those reasons. We are free to our opinions, though that means others are free to criticize them. More often than not, people are not so thick-skinned as they like to believe, so I always advise caution when putting ink to parchment, and, gods know, words from tongue.
Our world is rife with peril, it is also an imperfect one in which we all, it is hoped, aspire to better even as we better ourselves. Arvum is blessed in that illiteracy is practically unheard of. The Scholars of Vellichor are tireless, dedicated workers in practically any field of knowledge you may dare to think of. If there are those, and I know that there are, who feel as though they are lacking in some way, and simply cannot afford to spend hard-earned coin on tutelage from whomever might be charging for it, I urge anyone and everyone to first seek out the Scholars. It will likely only cost you your time, and a bit of effort put forth to make the instruction stick.
In conclusion, I wish to impart a few final thoughts: we all worship Vellichor when we engage in instruction as well as learning. If you read a White Journal or overhear something you strongly disagree with, before lashing out with heated words, consider what you might instead say to better educate the other of their folly...if folly it may be and not simple disagreement. It is not only pleasing to Vellichor that another should learn, it is also charitable of spirit, which pleases Gild, as well as honorable, which pleases Gloria. Our every action, which stems from Choice, in some way touches upon a godly tenant from which we should all desire to do our best by.
Written By Martin
April 21, 2018, 4:56 p.m.(8/6/1008 AR)
I do not have many possessions. This stems from a choice I made long, long ago, when I swore my vows and made the Kind Goddess my foremost guiding light. I have tried to live in the fullest spirit of charity, though that is a reflection for another time. The reason for my penning of this journal today is because, as I was puttering about, fussing with this and that as I considered yet further consolidation -- do I still need my travel pack? What use have I for this hook when my years of climbing anything other than a modest flight of stairs are long since gone? So there I was, meticulously rifling through my pack and considering to whom I might offer these things to, when I noticed tucked within a small pocket the edge of worn parchment. Curiosity piqued, I retrieved said parchment as I had absolutely zero recollection of ever having put it there, or what might be written upon its surface. As the mortal mind is ever delighted by mystery and surprise, one can imagine my glee at having discovered such a possibility.
Unfolding it, I must admit that my aforementioned glee faltered considerably, albeit briefly. It was an old artist's sketch of a young lady with whom I once held very dear. Well, I still do hold her dear, though she has long since moved on from this world. In any case, I realized what I felt upon first clapping eyes on that worn out old portrait was a pang. A quickening of the heart. Love, even after all these years. What I understood in that moment, that I had left to gather dust in the back of my mind after all these years, was that it was more than love. I was lucky, really. Because it was love, and friendship, and still something more. There isn't a proper word for it in our language, but I recalled something once said to me by a very wise Prodigal. The best I can describe it is as 'soul friend.' The person you're always happy to speak to at the end of the day, no matter what.
So I wonder, for those who happen to read my public musings, do any of you have such a person in your lives?
Unfolding it, I must admit that my aforementioned glee faltered considerably, albeit briefly. It was an old artist's sketch of a young lady with whom I once held very dear. Well, I still do hold her dear, though she has long since moved on from this world. In any case, I realized what I felt upon first clapping eyes on that worn out old portrait was a pang. A quickening of the heart. Love, even after all these years. What I understood in that moment, that I had left to gather dust in the back of my mind after all these years, was that it was more than love. I was lucky, really. Because it was love, and friendship, and still something more. There isn't a proper word for it in our language, but I recalled something once said to me by a very wise Prodigal. The best I can describe it is as 'soul friend.' The person you're always happy to speak to at the end of the day, no matter what.
So I wonder, for those who happen to read my public musings, do any of you have such a person in your lives?
Written By Martin
April 19, 2018, 1:41 a.m.(7/28/1008 AR)
Last week I stayed in a part of Arx on the border between the Upper and Lower Boroughs: on one side houses costing thousands of silver an more, on the other side ramshackle housing for the city's less fortunate. There was a certain exhilaration in the contrast, at least for an observer. Whether the inhabitants of either side of the divide feel quite the same is up for debate.
The hostel in which I stayed faced the poor quarter. A rather large notice board displayed an equally large poster depicting a scene of violence, which, presumably, was meant to entice one to the latest play at the Black Rose theatre, but which only ensured that no one had to rely on the resources of his or her own mind for stimulation. A Prodigal shaman stood not far away, calling for passersby to cease murdering the spirits competed with a lute-strumming beggar, possibly high on haze, for the attention of the hurried and worn out pedestrians.
At night, the sound of people enjoying themselves, which in Arx can be nigh indistinguishable from the sound of someone being beaten to death, filtered into my room. From time to time, including at fourth bell in the morning, Iron Guardsmen with their own menagerie of unique sounds to alert the public of alarm, from screech to bellow, jogged by, giving notice from afar to the ne'erdowells of their approach, thereby also giving them time to escape. Thus trouble was averted, though sleep interrupted.
Needless to say, the architecture in the Lowers was as appalling as that in the well-to-do area was graceful. Appalling as only a lack of inspiration and a disinclination to care can be.
I suppose I should hate it all, but I don't, or at least not with the pure hatred that burns with a gem-like flame. Hatred is easier to keep alive than love, but all the same I have never quite managed it.
The hostel in which I stayed faced the poor quarter. A rather large notice board displayed an equally large poster depicting a scene of violence, which, presumably, was meant to entice one to the latest play at the Black Rose theatre, but which only ensured that no one had to rely on the resources of his or her own mind for stimulation. A Prodigal shaman stood not far away, calling for passersby to cease murdering the spirits competed with a lute-strumming beggar, possibly high on haze, for the attention of the hurried and worn out pedestrians.
At night, the sound of people enjoying themselves, which in Arx can be nigh indistinguishable from the sound of someone being beaten to death, filtered into my room. From time to time, including at fourth bell in the morning, Iron Guardsmen with their own menagerie of unique sounds to alert the public of alarm, from screech to bellow, jogged by, giving notice from afar to the ne'erdowells of their approach, thereby also giving them time to escape. Thus trouble was averted, though sleep interrupted.
Needless to say, the architecture in the Lowers was as appalling as that in the well-to-do area was graceful. Appalling as only a lack of inspiration and a disinclination to care can be.
I suppose I should hate it all, but I don't, or at least not with the pure hatred that burns with a gem-like flame. Hatred is easier to keep alive than love, but all the same I have never quite managed it.
Written By Martin
April 18, 2018, 1:51 a.m.(7/26/1008 AR)
Not that I wish to be indelicate, or vulgar, gods forfend, but there are some things that come with age that no one tells you about when you are still a young buck with your whole life stretching ahead of you, rather than parts of you stretching down. One of which relates to sleep. Or a lack thereof. Because you are constantly getting up all hours of the night, and you are lucky if you manage a little bit of anything at all.
Unpleasant, yes, but I felt that perhaps it was my duty to let the young men of Arx know what the old men of my day didn't have the good sense to tell me. So take care of your health, lads, and revel in each and every good piss. (And bowel movement).
Unpleasant, yes, but I felt that perhaps it was my duty to let the young men of Arx know what the old men of my day didn't have the good sense to tell me. So take care of your health, lads, and revel in each and every good piss. (And bowel movement).
Written By Martin
April 14, 2018, 7:01 p.m.(7/20/1008 AR)
One of the things I often try to impart unto those who come to me for advice in regards as to how to live their life more in accordance with the gods is that the answer to their question is not so hard to discern as they may have otherwise suspected. The key is to learn how to pick out fools. That is to say one should be able to easily identify those who think the world is not a complex, living thing with sockets deeper than we can possibly imagine, those who detest uncertainty, and who are incapable of setting aside their flippant judgment over that of which they know little. Above all, be aware of those who always believe those things that are flattering to them. It is from these types that one can begin walking down a path more pleasing to the ideals put forth by the gods. You see, it will be the claims they find the most absurd, or the thoughts and opinions they consider most offensive that will end up being the ones most worthy of paying attention to.
As a final note, I wish to remind any and all who choose to read my public musings that I only said that the answer is easier than one might think. I do not claim that putting it into practice will be easy. In fact, one should expect life to be made more difficult for it.
As a final note, I wish to remind any and all who choose to read my public musings that I only said that the answer is easier than one might think. I do not claim that putting it into practice will be easy. In fact, one should expect life to be made more difficult for it.
Written By Martin
March 16, 2018, 6:43 p.m.(5/15/1008 AR)
There is a very great deal that I must write, but now is not the time. Instead I must put quill to parchment to address a matter most immediate, and, dare I say, extremely important to me. It was brought to my attention that a certain young man wrote in his own White Journal that, should he pass, I would be one of two recipients to receive his personal belongings as well as some other things. I must confess that when I read it, and saw who it was that wrote it, a few emotional cords were struck within me. Great sorrow, of course, because who can read such things and not feel a twinge of sadness over the very idea of a friend or loved one passing away? Followed by anger, the anger of the old over the idea that the young should go before them. Yet each of these emotions were short-lived. Both are natural, that I do not deny, but neither do the one cared about justice. Worse, it accords them little and less respect. For did, in this particular case, the knight in question not choose this path? Is he not willingly marching off to fight for a cause as big as any we have thus far known? So rather than let my heart be troubled by grief, I shall instead embrace pride. Pride in the bravery of all those men and women who are leaving behind loved ones in order to defend them. I shall allow hope to warm me, because without it we are all souls like candles unlit. Lastly, and ever always, I will hold to faith. Faith in all those virtues the gods put before us, faith in my fellow man, no matter how seemingly fragile, and faith in myself, that I might continue instil this same passion for what is right and good in others.
Just as I once did, so long ago now, for a young rapscallion better known today as Sir Jeffeth Bayweather.
Just as I once did, so long ago now, for a young rapscallion better known today as Sir Jeffeth Bayweather.
Please note that the scholars may take some time preparing your journal for others to read.