Written By Rinel
Sept. 12, 2021, 12:12 a.m.(3/9/1016 AR)
All of my movable possessions are to go to Raja Culler for the maintenance of the Sina Library. My home I leave to Sirius Valardin. May he find respite from his duties there. I will carry his loyalty in my heart forever. My shop, Decus Votorum, I leave in the hands of Blessed Felix Meadson, who I trust to dispose of it as best befits the Church.
Written By Rinel
April 29, 2021, 10:40 p.m.(5/19/1015 AR)
Relationship Note on Rinel
This is my last will and testament, penned by my own hand, and dated on the Nineteenth of May, One Thousand and Fifteen Years After the Reckoning.
In the event of my death, the Marquessa Reigna Keaton is to inherit all my property, save that listed below. I ask that the Marquessa use and dispose of such property in the way that will best aid the Physicians' Guild of Arx.
All unsold crafts and goods that I have produced are assigned to the possession and ownership of Brother Felix Godsworn, to be disposed of as best befits the Crafters' Guild of Arx. All rights to my smithy and store, Decus Votorum, are assigned to the possession and ownership of Brother Felix Godsworn, to be disposed of as best befits the Crafters' Guild of Arx.
The cane which Brother Felix Godsworn crafted for me, Reminder, is to revert to the possession and ownership of Brother Felix Godsworn to be used as he sees fit.
If I have not at the time of my death returned to the Count Duarte Amadeo of Bravura the cane that his lordship has lent to me, said cane is to revert to his lordship's possession and ownership.
All of my black journals are to be released to the public, pending review by the Censor Librorum and the Archscholar of Lord Vellichor.
Signed by my own hand,
Rinel Tern
In the event of my death, the Marquessa Reigna Keaton is to inherit all my property, save that listed below. I ask that the Marquessa use and dispose of such property in the way that will best aid the Physicians' Guild of Arx.
All unsold crafts and goods that I have produced are assigned to the possession and ownership of Brother Felix Godsworn, to be disposed of as best befits the Crafters' Guild of Arx. All rights to my smithy and store, Decus Votorum, are assigned to the possession and ownership of Brother Felix Godsworn, to be disposed of as best befits the Crafters' Guild of Arx.
The cane which Brother Felix Godsworn crafted for me, Reminder, is to revert to the possession and ownership of Brother Felix Godsworn to be used as he sees fit.
If I have not at the time of my death returned to the Count Duarte Amadeo of Bravura the cane that his lordship has lent to me, said cane is to revert to his lordship's possession and ownership.
All of my black journals are to be released to the public, pending review by the Censor Librorum and the Archscholar of Lord Vellichor.
Signed by my own hand,
Rinel Tern
Written By Rinel
May 17, 2020, 6:28 p.m.(4/22/1013 AR)
It would be wise for nobility to avoid the Lowers. There is a tension there that a day of full bellies will not relieve. If the city be a body, then the Lowers is its gallbladder--and there is an excess of choler, at present. As any Physician will tell you, yellow bile causes anger, explosively, and when it is consumed in flame it results in black bile, which in turn promotes melancholia.
There will be a slow and steady burn, or there will be a conflagration. The wise will proceed with caution.
On an unrelated note, Decus Votorum is currently fixing all household necessities at cost--and freely, for those unable to pay. None should go hungry, especially because of a leaky pot.
There will be a slow and steady burn, or there will be a conflagration. The wise will proceed with caution.
On an unrelated note, Decus Votorum is currently fixing all household necessities at cost--and freely, for those unable to pay. None should go hungry, especially because of a leaky pot.
Written By Rinel
May 16, 2020, 4:51 a.m.(4/19/1013 AR)
Relationship Note on Dianna
It was not my experience, as a disciple of Lord Vellichor, that any of us viewed our service to Him as anything other than a gift. Foolishness, when preserved, is as valuable a gift to future generations as wisdom. There is as much virtue in a cairn that indicates a hidden crevasse as there is in one pointing the way to a sheltered cleft within the mountainside.
It was my experience, as a disciple of Lord Vellichor, that many of us prized the virtue of brevity.
It was my experience, as a disciple of Lord Vellichor, that many of us prized the virtue of brevity.
Written By Rinel
May 5, 2020, 6:32 a.m.(3/25/1013 AR)
The idea that I should not change has been proposed, which is an affront to the Lady Lagoma and polite society alike. I have addressed the suggestor elsewhere.
But it is healthy to examine one's faults, to see where one must be reforged in the crucible of the Lady's Flame. Oathlanders do not rejoice in our flaws.
Pride, certainly, has ever been my nemesis. But behind that pride there is anger, too. Some anger should not be extinguished; there is always room for righteous fury. So, too, is there a place for equanimity in the face of hardship.
So: anger at times, peace at times; humility in all things.
One can never truly master herself--it is as fruitless a task as mastering the very winds--but new pathways may be urged. A story may be changed.
But it is healthy to examine one's faults, to see where one must be reforged in the crucible of the Lady's Flame. Oathlanders do not rejoice in our flaws.
Pride, certainly, has ever been my nemesis. But behind that pride there is anger, too. Some anger should not be extinguished; there is always room for righteous fury. So, too, is there a place for equanimity in the face of hardship.
So: anger at times, peace at times; humility in all things.
One can never truly master herself--it is as fruitless a task as mastering the very winds--but new pathways may be urged. A story may be changed.
Written By Rinel
May 5, 2020, 6:25 a.m.(3/25/1013 AR)
Relationship Note on Dianna
Find your way to the Lady Gild instead and start handing out coats to those in the Lowers. It's still winter.
Your wardrobe can wait.
Your wardrobe can wait.
Written By Rinel
Dec. 27, 2019, 5:21 p.m.(6/15/1012 AR)
I set sail, soon, for the Isle of Storms. I carry with me the key that was Wynna's, that now will be returned to the island. There will be danger. Perhaps I shall not return.
Perhaps it is best if I do not.
What will be said of me when I am gone? That my skills were surpassed by my obstinancy and pride, as Lord Hawkmour suggests? That I was faithless and rejected by our Gods? Or will nothing be said at all? I do not number among the great Arvani of our time. I have not brought back Gods into the fold, or rediscovered lost Art, or stopped incursions of the Abyss into this world.
I hope that I improved more lives than I damaged. I think, in the end, that is all I can hope for. That, and the smile of my beloved, the feel of her hand in mine as I step into the Shining Lands. The chance to start anew, in time, another life upon the wheel, another chance to serve our Gods.
Perhaps it is best if I do not.
What will be said of me when I am gone? That my skills were surpassed by my obstinancy and pride, as Lord Hawkmour suggests? That I was faithless and rejected by our Gods? Or will nothing be said at all? I do not number among the great Arvani of our time. I have not brought back Gods into the fold, or rediscovered lost Art, or stopped incursions of the Abyss into this world.
I hope that I improved more lives than I damaged. I think, in the end, that is all I can hope for. That, and the smile of my beloved, the feel of her hand in mine as I step into the Shining Lands. The chance to start anew, in time, another life upon the wheel, another chance to serve our Gods.
Written By Rinel
Dec. 26, 2019, 10:44 p.m.(6/13/1012 AR)
What must be done when one cannot still her heart? I have been told by my peers that I err. I have been told by my erstwhile masters that I err. I have been told by the Holy Gods Themselves that I err.
Yet still I mourn the fate of Elisha Arrynfield.
The Gods, it is said, are the manifestations of our highest ideals. But whose ideals are those? Am I now become so deviant that to my soul the judgement of our Faith seems cruelty? Whence comes this righteousness of action? Do the Gods command action because it is right? Or is action right because the Gods command it?
What must be done when one cannot still her heart?
Yet still I mourn the fate of Elisha Arrynfield.
The Gods, it is said, are the manifestations of our highest ideals. But whose ideals are those? Am I now become so deviant that to my soul the judgement of our Faith seems cruelty? Whence comes this righteousness of action? Do the Gods command action because it is right? Or is action right because the Gods command it?
What must be done when one cannot still her heart?
Written By Rinel
Dec. 14, 2019, 7:37 p.m.(5/17/1012 AR)
Relationship Note on Elisha
Herein is recorded the final writings of the commoner Elisha, who on the seventh of April, one thousand and twelve years after the Reckoning, was banished by the Church of the Pantheon for apostasy against the Faith. Such writings are recorded for the sake of knowledge only, pursuant to the holy command of our Lord Vellichor, and are anathema in the eyes of our holy Church.
***
"There is one god,
and you are Her prophet.
You are the Dreamer and the Dream;
a figment of the divine imagination.
Memory is a fiction and prophesy is a lie.
The past and the future don't exist in the Dream.
Unwrap the present and"
***
The rest of the recording is unknown to this scholar.
--Written by my hand, May 17, 1012 AR
***
"There is one god,
and you are Her prophet.
You are the Dreamer and the Dream;
a figment of the divine imagination.
Memory is a fiction and prophesy is a lie.
The past and the future don't exist in the Dream.
Unwrap the present and"
***
The rest of the recording is unknown to this scholar.
--Written by my hand, May 17, 1012 AR
Written By Rinel
Nov. 15, 2019, 10:48 a.m.(3/14/1012 AR)
Relationship Note on Aureth
It becomes easier as one begins to recognize the writing styles of the more popular scribes. Personally, I have only requested that Atreke write my journals for me when I have been incapable of doing so myself. There is something sacred to me in the act of putting quill to vellum--as though with each scratch of quill on parchment I am making a sacrifice to Lord Vellichor, consecrating each word with every stroke of the pen.
This feeling of consecration is, at times, all that has held me back from utter ruin.
Doubtlessly such an admission will prove alarming to those who have read the more emotional of my writings.
This feeling of consecration is, at times, all that has held me back from utter ruin.
Doubtlessly such an admission will prove alarming to those who have read the more emotional of my writings.
Written By Rinel
Nov. 12, 2019, 10:51 p.m.(3/9/1012 AR)
As many of the Legates of the Faith will relate to those who ask of my prior errors, it is far easier to make statements in error than it is to construct the bulwarks of truth. To that end, I can say but that the Emissary Zulana has, regrettably, misconstrued my commentary. This is unfortunate but not unexpected; all who are chained by the darksteel of slavery are, to some end, affected by its corrupting whispers.
To that end, I shall write a brief treatise on the nature of freedom which, with the blessing of the Faith, I shall publish to Arvum at large. I will of course produce copies for the Emissary to deliver to her people and the errant Metallic known as Platinum. I would be honoured if the Emissary would reach out to me to teach me the tongue of Jaidairal, that more might hear of Arvani theology, just as we are hearing of the peculiarities of the Grace as it is practiced in the lands of Jaidairal.
To that end, I shall write a brief treatise on the nature of freedom which, with the blessing of the Faith, I shall publish to Arvum at large. I will of course produce copies for the Emissary to deliver to her people and the errant Metallic known as Platinum. I would be honoured if the Emissary would reach out to me to teach me the tongue of Jaidairal, that more might hear of Arvani theology, just as we are hearing of the peculiarities of the Grace as it is practiced in the lands of Jaidairal.
Written By Rinel
Nov. 12, 2019, 2:06 a.m.(3/7/1012 AR)
I lost my temper again, and I expect there will be significant consequences. Yet I feel differently, this time--usually I am consumed with regret and guilt about what I have said in my fits of rage. This time, I feel as though I spoke a truth that needed speaking.
Our Faith has many shepherds. Surely we can spare one to collect the sheep who are lost.
Our Faith has many shepherds. Surely we can spare one to collect the sheep who are lost.
Written By Rinel
Nov. 1, 2019, 5:33 p.m.(2/15/1012 AR)
I had good reason to fear.
I believe I shall spend the next eclipse huddled beneath my covers.
I believe I shall spend the next eclipse huddled beneath my covers.
Written By Rinel
Oct. 31, 2019, 12:02 p.m.(2/12/1012 AR)
Though I will not be partaking in any revelry, I believe I shall walk the streets of Arx tonight, during the Eclipse.
I confess that I am deeply afraid. I believe thst is why I must not hide. If I cannot be brave, I can at least muster defiance.
I confess that I am deeply afraid. I believe thst is why I must not hide. If I cannot be brave, I can at least muster defiance.
Written By Rinel
Oct. 23, 2019, 4:23 p.m.(1/24/1012 AR)
Relationship Note on Preston
The insight of the Grandmaster into such matters is, as ever, appreciated. None can doubt the devotion and zeal embodied in the leader of the Templars, and we as a Compact are all the stronger for their constant vigilance against threats to the Faith.
Yet I must correct the Grandmaster on one issue of fact--heretical writings of the Dominus Marach remain, found at times in the strangest of locations. For while those sworn to Lord Vellichor and Lady Gloria alike--let us not forget the presence of the Knights of the Library--bled and died in defense of knowledge, others did what they could to secret away documents that would arouse the wrath of the Orthodox. The Great Archive is too vast for even the flames of the Abyss to scour utterly; it was and remains beyond the capacity of mortal hands to break.
And so I must reurge in full my earlier journal. We worship all the Gods. But our vows are made to the God of History, and those who threaten the knowledge of His Archive, no matter how noble their intention, we shall oppose, no matter the consequence. We honour Lord Limerance in our devotion. We honour Lady Gloria in our zeal. And, should we fall as our predecessors did, we shall honour Lady Death as we are received into Her waiting arms.
For to everyone within the Dream, death shall come, soon or late. And no scholar can die better than facing fearful odds, for the knowledge of the Archive and the temples of her Gods.
((OOC: Apologies to Macaulay. I regret nothing.))
Yet I must correct the Grandmaster on one issue of fact--heretical writings of the Dominus Marach remain, found at times in the strangest of locations. For while those sworn to Lord Vellichor and Lady Gloria alike--let us not forget the presence of the Knights of the Library--bled and died in defense of knowledge, others did what they could to secret away documents that would arouse the wrath of the Orthodox. The Great Archive is too vast for even the flames of the Abyss to scour utterly; it was and remains beyond the capacity of mortal hands to break.
And so I must reurge in full my earlier journal. We worship all the Gods. But our vows are made to the God of History, and those who threaten the knowledge of His Archive, no matter how noble their intention, we shall oppose, no matter the consequence. We honour Lord Limerance in our devotion. We honour Lady Gloria in our zeal. And, should we fall as our predecessors did, we shall honour Lady Death as we are received into Her waiting arms.
For to everyone within the Dream, death shall come, soon or late. And no scholar can die better than facing fearful odds, for the knowledge of the Archive and the temples of her Gods.
((OOC: Apologies to Macaulay. I regret nothing.))
Written By Rinel
Oct. 22, 2019, 11:24 p.m.(1/23/1012 AR)
The Great Archive of Lord Vellichor contains a wealth of knowledge and history, which we as disciples of the God of History are oathbound to preserve. Much that resides within that Archive can lead a woman off the path of the Faith. When one includes the frequent errors found in the White Journals, and the vast scholarship regarding the Marachian Heresy, a reasonable argument can be made that, writ large, the contents of the Archive are more likely to lead an untrained mind toward heresy, not away from it.
For is it not written by no less a man than the Carnifex Alor Valardin himself-- "We cannot build the foundations of faith by shaking them. We cannot build a world of hope by instilling doubt. We cannot demand honor while suggesting dishonorable methods. I will not see the Faith corrupted. I declare the Dominus Marach's teachings an apostasy, and demand that they be destroyed."
Yet we preserve these errors--and errors far more dangerous besides--by holy demand. For in the darkest hours of the Reckoning, the Lord Vellichor appeared to humanity and granted us gifts beyond measure. So it is written in His holy Canticle. So, too, is written the charge which He placed upon us:
"Let the most studious amongst you take sacred vow to forever guard the knowledge of the world, and allow all among you from the greatest to the least to chronicle their lives in journals so their knowledge may never be lost. Guard it well."
I have sworn an vow before Gods and humanity to collect and protect this knowledge. Knowledge that is frequently in error. Knowledge that, at times, ventures into heresy. That vow cannot be countermanded by mortals, and I will not allow myself to be released from it. Those who fear the Archive are right to do so, for it contains the unutterable danger of truth and lies combined. But this danger is not rectified, as the Orthodox falsely believe, by the destruction of knowledge. Knowledge is not ever truly lost, and that which grows but wilted in the light of day may send forth thorns and choking tendrils in darkness.
If we fear heresy, it is not a madman who must be silenced. It is our people who must be taught. For great though the Carnifex Alor was, and great the might of his Crusade, the teachings of Marach yet survive--as warning to the masses, and as dangerous but fruitful inspiration to those well-versed in the ways of the Gods. Let the defense of the Great Archive during the Crusade against Marach serve as warning to all who would seek to destroy knowledge, for not even a Carnifex--appointed in holy duty to the Faith by the Dominus and Legates themselves--could force the Scholars of Lord Vellichor or the Knights of His Holy Library to step aside.
Our vows transcend the mortal realm. They are not for other humans to amend.
For is it not written by no less a man than the Carnifex Alor Valardin himself-- "We cannot build the foundations of faith by shaking them. We cannot build a world of hope by instilling doubt. We cannot demand honor while suggesting dishonorable methods. I will not see the Faith corrupted. I declare the Dominus Marach's teachings an apostasy, and demand that they be destroyed."
Yet we preserve these errors--and errors far more dangerous besides--by holy demand. For in the darkest hours of the Reckoning, the Lord Vellichor appeared to humanity and granted us gifts beyond measure. So it is written in His holy Canticle. So, too, is written the charge which He placed upon us:
"Let the most studious amongst you take sacred vow to forever guard the knowledge of the world, and allow all among you from the greatest to the least to chronicle their lives in journals so their knowledge may never be lost. Guard it well."
I have sworn an vow before Gods and humanity to collect and protect this knowledge. Knowledge that is frequently in error. Knowledge that, at times, ventures into heresy. That vow cannot be countermanded by mortals, and I will not allow myself to be released from it. Those who fear the Archive are right to do so, for it contains the unutterable danger of truth and lies combined. But this danger is not rectified, as the Orthodox falsely believe, by the destruction of knowledge. Knowledge is not ever truly lost, and that which grows but wilted in the light of day may send forth thorns and choking tendrils in darkness.
If we fear heresy, it is not a madman who must be silenced. It is our people who must be taught. For great though the Carnifex Alor was, and great the might of his Crusade, the teachings of Marach yet survive--as warning to the masses, and as dangerous but fruitful inspiration to those well-versed in the ways of the Gods. Let the defense of the Great Archive during the Crusade against Marach serve as warning to all who would seek to destroy knowledge, for not even a Carnifex--appointed in holy duty to the Faith by the Dominus and Legates themselves--could force the Scholars of Lord Vellichor or the Knights of His Holy Library to step aside.
Our vows transcend the mortal realm. They are not for other humans to amend.
Written By Rinel
Sept. 26, 2019, 1:28 a.m.(11/25/1011 AR)
I have been responsible for a great deal of pain, lately. Convalescence has ledt me with little to do but reflect on my faith.
It has become apparent to me that my zeal is a flame. When contained with humility and acknowledgment of the possibility for error, it is capable of wonderful things, for it reflects the beauty and strength of our Gods.
But for too long, I have let that flame run rampant, whipped on by the twin scourges of certainty and pride. I have burnt myself in that zeal. Worse, I have burnt others.
There are things to be certain of. The goodness of our Gods. The beauty of the Dream. The power of trust, loyalty, friendship, love. One can stand firm against an unstable world with such truths as an anchor. But so many things I never believed questionable have begin to slip away.
That the importance of questioning should come to me now is a profound irony that is not lost on me.
...I need a priest.
It has become apparent to me that my zeal is a flame. When contained with humility and acknowledgment of the possibility for error, it is capable of wonderful things, for it reflects the beauty and strength of our Gods.
But for too long, I have let that flame run rampant, whipped on by the twin scourges of certainty and pride. I have burnt myself in that zeal. Worse, I have burnt others.
There are things to be certain of. The goodness of our Gods. The beauty of the Dream. The power of trust, loyalty, friendship, love. One can stand firm against an unstable world with such truths as an anchor. But so many things I never believed questionable have begin to slip away.
That the importance of questioning should come to me now is a profound irony that is not lost on me.
...I need a priest.
Written By Rinel
Sept. 21, 2019, 1:31 p.m.(11/16/1011 AR)
In my homelands, in the hills and mountains of the Telmarch, a certain phenomenon happens when too much snow falls too quickly. The conditions must all be right, and there are many conditions, but when they are in alignment a terrifying force is born into the world.
Avalanche.
It starts simply, with the careless footfall of a mountain traveller, or the frantic flight of a snowhare pursued by an eagle's talons, or any other disturbance that sets the smallest grains in motion. There is a quiet rustle. There is a spillage of snow. And then the cracks begin to spread, and the mountain disgorges snow like a patient vomiting her meal, and the slope itself crumbles underfoot and becomes a wave of ice and strength and death.
I have seen trees uprooted by such waves, and boulders hurled like the toys of some great and terrible giant. I have lost friends to their suffocating frost.
Arx rises high above the land and sea, but I cannot feel as though there is a mountain beyond sight and reckoning above us, on whose dark slopes the snow has fallen fast and careless.
No doubt many will read my words with amusement at the irony, but this is a time for walking softly.
Avalanche.
It starts simply, with the careless footfall of a mountain traveller, or the frantic flight of a snowhare pursued by an eagle's talons, or any other disturbance that sets the smallest grains in motion. There is a quiet rustle. There is a spillage of snow. And then the cracks begin to spread, and the mountain disgorges snow like a patient vomiting her meal, and the slope itself crumbles underfoot and becomes a wave of ice and strength and death.
I have seen trees uprooted by such waves, and boulders hurled like the toys of some great and terrible giant. I have lost friends to their suffocating frost.
Arx rises high above the land and sea, but I cannot feel as though there is a mountain beyond sight and reckoning above us, on whose dark slopes the snow has fallen fast and careless.
No doubt many will read my words with amusement at the irony, but this is a time for walking softly.
Written By Rinel
Sept. 15, 2019, 4:31 a.m.(11/3/1011 AR)
I recently had the occasion to speak frankly to a person far above my station. I have found that while my indignation is a flame that I may smother before it conflagrates into rage, my grief is another thing entire.
It is strange, how quickly one may become the other. If you asked me what the emotions share, I would say only the ability to overwhelm. Yet they are twinned in me so frequently that I cannot help but see them as bound together. I think at times it is me. I think at times that whatever defect I have—whatever inability I possess that stops me from forgetting—is responsible.
But I am not so sure. The person to whom I spoke, though infinitely more composed than I, seemed afflicted by sorrow and anger alike. But when we spoke, and revealed our broken truths to each other, I felt a smoothing of roughened edges. Perhaps this is what healing is—not a restoration of what was lost, but a union with others who have lost in turn. Perhaps we form with our brothers and sisters a path of smooth cobblestone upon which others may tread the Dream.
Perhaps that is enough.
It is strange, how quickly one may become the other. If you asked me what the emotions share, I would say only the ability to overwhelm. Yet they are twinned in me so frequently that I cannot help but see them as bound together. I think at times it is me. I think at times that whatever defect I have—whatever inability I possess that stops me from forgetting—is responsible.
But I am not so sure. The person to whom I spoke, though infinitely more composed than I, seemed afflicted by sorrow and anger alike. But when we spoke, and revealed our broken truths to each other, I felt a smoothing of roughened edges. Perhaps this is what healing is—not a restoration of what was lost, but a union with others who have lost in turn. Perhaps we form with our brothers and sisters a path of smooth cobblestone upon which others may tread the Dream.
Perhaps that is enough.
Written By Rinel
Sept. 11, 2019, 8:34 p.m.(10/24/1011 AR)
Relationship Note on Caith
Though I am currently recovering from a fall, I would be delighted to accompany the Princess Thrax on a naturalist's excursion. There are entire civilizations of the unknown dwelling beneath rocks.
As to her Highness' question about plants pushing rocks up, there are many places in the city where one may find stone shattered by the growth of trees.
Their deep roots are as inexorable as the sea.
As to her Highness' question about plants pushing rocks up, there are many places in the city where one may find stone shattered by the growth of trees.
Their deep roots are as inexorable as the sea.
Please note that the scholars may take some time preparing your journal for others to read.