Written By Wren
Dec. 12, 2021, 7:53 p.m.(9/25/1016 AR)
Packing and unpacking are important rituals when leaving and returning from a trip. Each item you select to take with you is something you thought necessary enough to lug across land or sea. And then there are the things you leave behind, forgotten or not, and yes, I have forgotten several things when hastily packing. That bit of pastry you intended to enjoy once upon the road, or even that pretty bauble you spotted that begged to be snatched up and given as a gift. Oh, yes, I have left plenty of presents in my haste. Those are the things I regret the most.
I find myself packing for a trip to see the lands that now fall under my care. Not only to see these lands but the people who dwell there and call it home. I go not alone, of course, for the nobles who have shown such faith in me are coming along, too. My Lord Disaster will even build a house that some fortunate family will get to call their own. I've done my best to arm my lord patron with all manner of blueprints and drawings of homes, but it will be with his two hands that this dwelling comes into being. Every single faith is placed into him that it will be a sturdy and warm home.
Every single confidence that nothing will go wrong.
I find myself packing for a trip to see the lands that now fall under my care. Not only to see these lands but the people who dwell there and call it home. I go not alone, of course, for the nobles who have shown such faith in me are coming along, too. My Lord Disaster will even build a house that some fortunate family will get to call their own. I've done my best to arm my lord patron with all manner of blueprints and drawings of homes, but it will be with his two hands that this dwelling comes into being. Every single faith is placed into him that it will be a sturdy and warm home.
Every single confidence that nothing will go wrong.
Written By Wren
Nov. 26, 2021, 7:11 p.m.(8/21/1016 AR)
Relationship Note on Renfry
I look forward to a forthcoming trip to the Oathlands with my Lord Disaster. It will be a journey full of work and learning, of preparing ourselves for the tasks that lie ahead of us both.
But I can't wait to watch you build a house.
But I can't wait to watch you build a house.
Written By Wren
Nov. 17, 2021, midnight(8/1/1016 AR)
My grandmother was a rose of Tor, bold and dazzling and devastatingly beautiful even into her later years. Where my mother's love comes cold as a wind blowing from the farthest reaches of the Northlands, my Granny's love was the balm of summer nights caressed with sweet, cool breezes. Few things were as pleasant as spending time with Granny Marta. She still baked then and would fill the entirety of her modest home with the redolences of vanilla and sugar, yeasty loaves of bread and chocolate. I blame her for the sweet tooth that has hounded me all my life. And as she baked, she would sing to the ingredients, to my siblings and me, and just to life itself. Some songs were beautiful stretches of pain and promise, life and love, of things children were perhaps far too young to understand and appreciate. Others were more feelings than actual songs, moving her to tears and smiles and us following right along with her even if we didn't quite grasp why Granny Marta and ourselves were laughing and crying simultaneously.
We always left Granny Marta's plumper than we came, filled to near bursting with sweetness and story, sugared by our grandmother's affection. Mother would find stray flour in our garments and hair, beneath our fingernails, for weeks no matter how much she scrubbed or how often she sent the laundry out. There would never be harsh words about this or even the clucking of an annoyed mother's tongue. It was an acceptance. Maybe even pride.
In the later years, Granny Marta ceased to bake, but she never stopped singing. We could find her in the garden day or night humming or singing to the plants and flowers, to her herbs and the cats that gathered on the garden wall. She taught us her songs, though, sad as it is for me to confess, I have forgotten them, but not the feeling they instilled within, for when I think back to her, that warmth fills me anew.
I'm uncertain just why I thought of her today while I stood in my garden, but I caught the smell of fresh bread, and for a second, I was transported back to those summer evenings and swore I heard my Granny singing. It was but a moment, a snatch of stolen time before the moment popped like a soap bubble, and it was just me in my garden. Alone.
We always left Granny Marta's plumper than we came, filled to near bursting with sweetness and story, sugared by our grandmother's affection. Mother would find stray flour in our garments and hair, beneath our fingernails, for weeks no matter how much she scrubbed or how often she sent the laundry out. There would never be harsh words about this or even the clucking of an annoyed mother's tongue. It was an acceptance. Maybe even pride.
In the later years, Granny Marta ceased to bake, but she never stopped singing. We could find her in the garden day or night humming or singing to the plants and flowers, to her herbs and the cats that gathered on the garden wall. She taught us her songs, though, sad as it is for me to confess, I have forgotten them, but not the feeling they instilled within, for when I think back to her, that warmth fills me anew.
I'm uncertain just why I thought of her today while I stood in my garden, but I caught the smell of fresh bread, and for a second, I was transported back to those summer evenings and swore I heard my Granny singing. It was but a moment, a snatch of stolen time before the moment popped like a soap bubble, and it was just me in my garden. Alone.
Written By Wren
Oct. 26, 2021, 9:05 p.m.(6/15/1016 AR)
My return to Arx after a lengthy voyage across sea and land has been a splendid one. I've met fresh faces and seen old. I've even received a letter from a dear and cherished associate who is returning to the city soon. I'm eager to hear their own stories and see where it is they are headed. Though, truth be told disaster tends to follow that one like a trail of ducklings after their mother.
Overall, I look forward to another attempt at settling these bones of mine. Who knows, maybe this will be the time I'll stay.
Overall, I look forward to another attempt at settling these bones of mine. Who knows, maybe this will be the time I'll stay.
Written By Wren
April 26, 2020, 9:14 a.m.(3/7/1013 AR)
I'm glad to see there are some opportunists in this city of ours. Though, I could do without the screeching.
Written By Wren
April 23, 2020, 10:37 a.m.(3/1/1013 AR)
A whirlpool. At the very mouth of the bay. Unbelievable! I've heard that Arx has had some odd winters over the last few years before my return, but gods, a whirlpool? The heavy rains were enough to keep Miri and I sheltering at the Auction House between our visits to the City Center, but this certainly puts a damper on many of my investments and deals, but it won't stop commerce. Even if I have to have things taken further down to other ports and cart it back through the mud and snow, things will continue apace. And without a change in my prices. I have plenty of silver to pay for good workers to handle the logistics and plenty more to keep costs as low as possible for those who depend upon my services to get them the goods they need.
I'm confident there will be some opportunity to be had by this, and if anyone finds themselves struggling, merchants, that is, I am happy to lend what aid I may. We must look after one another at times, even if we compete at the best of those times.
I'm confident there will be some opportunity to be had by this, and if anyone finds themselves struggling, merchants, that is, I am happy to lend what aid I may. We must look after one another at times, even if we compete at the best of those times.
Written By Wren
April 6, 2020, 11:03 a.m.(1/23/1013 AR)
I don't own much jewelry, pieces get lost too easily with how much I'm on the move, but those pieces I do keep close are ones I treasure. There are earrings from my mother, little pearl drops that are simple, elegant, and go with just about anything I wear. There is also a ring from my sister given to me before I left Arx the first time. An emerald and diamond necklace from someone I miss terribly. And then there's a starfish set crafted by the late Josephine, pieces that I shall treasure and will intend to pass to the future in the form of one of my nieces.
This pretty brooch I won at auction shall be one of those pieces I treasure, keep close. I am proud of what was accomplished with ironwool, that I could lend any aid to such a worthy dream. It shall serve as a reminder of this and my desires. And one day, I shall pass it down to another dreamer in hopes that they too can realize everything they desire in life. For what are we without dreams?
This pretty brooch I won at auction shall be one of those pieces I treasure, keep close. I am proud of what was accomplished with ironwool, that I could lend any aid to such a worthy dream. It shall serve as a reminder of this and my desires. And one day, I shall pass it down to another dreamer in hopes that they too can realize everything they desire in life. For what are we without dreams?
Written By Wren
March 1, 2020, 7:35 p.m.(11/8/1012 AR)
I won a beautiful pair of stained glass windows from the Templars auction that Princess Alarissa put on, and while they are indeed lovely and a testament to the skill and craft of the artist, I am at a loss of where to install them. At first, I thought perhaps the Auction House, but no, that won't do. There is a theme in place there already, and while these windows would add an interesting element, it would be a discordant one. Such are my woes and worries these days, reduced to a pair of windows, that it makes me wonder if perhaps I have grown too soft, too fat, as of late off of my success within the city.
He wouldn't approve of this stillness, and I still cannot shake not living up to his standards of me. Such are the troubles of this gilt bird, nothing as big and earthshattering as the troubles speeding toward our shores.
He wouldn't approve of this stillness, and I still cannot shake not living up to his standards of me. Such are the troubles of this gilt bird, nothing as big and earthshattering as the troubles speeding toward our shores.
Written By Wren
Nov. 10, 2019, 7:43 p.m.(3/5/1012 AR)
It was only a matter of time for dragonweep to join steelsilk in extreme scarcity within the city. We must adapt to change, so I shall alter the course and press onwards. Fortunately, I had the foresight to buy two at a time and set one for sale, leaving the other after the sale of the first where I would purchase a second to hold to keep to the pattern of one for sale and the other in wait. The increase in rarity is a minor hassle to overcome. After all, that makes the stone sparkle all the more to the eyes of some.
Granted, my Lord patron might take a little credit on establishing my pattern. Not that a bit of credit isn't his to relish, I hate for his ego to inflate more. I note this with sincerity, of course, and the knowledge I'll be quadruple checking the ledgers for at least a month.
Granted, my Lord patron might take a little credit on establishing my pattern. Not that a bit of credit isn't his to relish, I hate for his ego to inflate more. I note this with sincerity, of course, and the knowledge I'll be quadruple checking the ledgers for at least a month.
Written By Wren
Oct. 20, 2019, 9:54 p.m.(1/19/1012 AR)
Busy, busy, busy, busy! One would assume with all the snow, it would keep people from the City Center, but that has always held out to be a false line of thought. Some of my most lucrative days have been during the colder months. Bolts of fabric--mostly undyed silk and umbra--have lept into the arms of customers both old and new; precious gems waiting to be cut and fit into the perfect setting have found their ways into the hands of the nobility and more ordinary folk. I'm pleased by the look of my ledgers and will no doubt mark this turn of my nearly first year back in the city with something extra special. Business is good, and this year is shaping up to be one of my best yet.
Written By Wren
Oct. 18, 2019, 12:18 a.m.(1/13/1012 AR)
People will fight about anything, even the weather.
Written By Wren
Oct. 11, 2019, 6:01 p.m.(1/1/1012 AR)
I didn't see it, but I heard a rumor that a flock of geese tumbled out of the sky dead as dead can be. How dreadful. I hope no one was injured by an unexpected goose while carrying on with their business.
Written By Wren
Oct. 8, 2019, 4:44 p.m.(12/23/1011 AR)
In earnest, I look forward to the first snowflakes to swirl over Arx, wrap it in that blanket of pure, soft white. Unsullied for a few precious moments like the most delicate bolts of aeterna before the world rallies to life to shake the frosty mantle loose. I do not look forward to the inevitable ice that will come with it to make my daily trips to and from the City Center perilous.
It is high time for new wintertime boots and dresses though one may argue I am slow in action as winter lingers closer than summer. No, this is the ideal time to practice and ply my trade. Soft furs from the North are very much in vogue, notably marmot furs from my understanding. Maybe some remain in the markets, and I can match them off with jewels that have long languished in their velvet boxes, ready to be made into something new.
And then perhaps some socializing as I owe some letters and calls. Not that I am ever in the clear when it comes to owing messages or calls when my family is concerned.
It is high time for new wintertime boots and dresses though one may argue I am slow in action as winter lingers closer than summer. No, this is the ideal time to practice and ply my trade. Soft furs from the North are very much in vogue, notably marmot furs from my understanding. Maybe some remain in the markets, and I can match them off with jewels that have long languished in their velvet boxes, ready to be made into something new.
And then perhaps some socializing as I owe some letters and calls. Not that I am ever in the clear when it comes to owing messages or calls when my family is concerned.
Written By Wren
Sept. 10, 2019, 6:34 p.m.(10/22/1011 AR)
Fortune waxes and wanes, but a good merchant understands how to weather the storm. It seems there are plenty of storms to weather right now, but I suppose I should be thankful that the colder months are settling in. This will give me plenty of time to tally up which ventures have increased the coffers and what investments I need to trim as a loss. I'm sure father will be pleased to see me grace the family table more often during these months even if it is to peck around for some enlightenment.
Written By Wren
Aug. 25, 2019, 6:48 p.m.(9/18/1011 AR)
As summer slips into autumn, exchanging the heat for snows and cold, it is time to take an extensive catalog of goods. Business is flourishing, and I could not be more satisfied with how things are turning out. I must secure a hefty stock of several fabrics and speak with my favorite gem dealers for raw stones. Travel will also be somewhat more restricted for me, but I'll make time for some excursions before the snows settle over the land.
When the snows do arrive, it'll give me plenty of opportunities to focus upon some different plans that I have in mind. The auction house has been quiet on the public front, but privately I couldn't be happier with it. It is my fondest wish to outperform the King's Own auction in terms of attendance and how much silver was raised. Over three million. It can be done. I have faith, especially in myself.
When the snows do arrive, it'll give me plenty of opportunities to focus upon some different plans that I have in mind. The auction house has been quiet on the public front, but privately I couldn't be happier with it. It is my fondest wish to outperform the King's Own auction in terms of attendance and how much silver was raised. Over three million. It can be done. I have faith, especially in myself.
Written By Wren
Aug. 18, 2019, 11:25 a.m.(9/4/1011 AR)
It is terrifyingly easy to hate someone, far easier than it is to love someone. Though I don't appreciate the thought of such extremes, there are more personages I dislike than outright hate. Not to say there aren't things or people I do hate. Oh, there are those. The dishonest, for one. It is invigorating to deal with those who can be so genuinely themselves, for good or for ill.
Written By Wren
Aug. 7, 2019, 10:11 p.m.(8/11/1011 AR)
Relationship Note on Josephine
I'm quite satisfied--to be honest, rather honored--to be able to wear such excellent work. I've always held a deep fondness for the sea, and these starfish are utterly glorious. They remind me of warm, crystalline waters and soft sand beneath my feet; the deep velvet of twilight fringed with vibrant orange and purples and that pale pink glow. Of secrets whispered, and lost, amid salt-kissed breezes.
I did say I was going to spoil myself with something shiny, so who can fault me if it that something is multiple brilliant pieces that I shall treasure for years to come. I deserve it, after all.
I did say I was going to spoil myself with something shiny, so who can fault me if it that something is multiple brilliant pieces that I shall treasure for years to come. I deserve it, after all.
Written By Wren
Aug. 1, 2019, 9:59 p.m.(7/27/1011 AR)
I've found myself longing for the sea once more, to feel the rock and sway of a boat beneath my feet. To smell the salt air and see the horizon stretch limitlessly before me. Watch as the waters both swallow down the sun with the fall of dusk and births it anew in its fiery radiance come dawn. To tread distant shores and revel in discovery and reacquaintance.
It is an itch that will not abate and soon, so very soon, I will have to satisfy it. Even if I've only just returned.
It is an itch that will not abate and soon, so very soon, I will have to satisfy it. Even if I've only just returned.
Written By Wren
July 23, 2019, 11:30 a.m.(7/8/1011 AR)
I continue thinking about Otto Rutherfyn. His is a name I recollect quickly enough for all of the work he did for the disadvantaged. There was a kindness to his ambition, but it was ambition that drove him. I admired that about him, that passion for seeing to the needs of others. To serve, for there is no shame in service to others.
And of course, there is Morton Waldo as well. Both of these men have vanished, but one has left behind strange dust and the other their home ablaze. There must be a connection there, but I don't know what it could be.
The question that remains now is, am I nosy enough to look into it? Or I suppose even further: do I have the time?
And of course, there is Morton Waldo as well. Both of these men have vanished, but one has left behind strange dust and the other their home ablaze. There must be a connection there, but I don't know what it could be.
The question that remains now is, am I nosy enough to look into it? Or I suppose even further: do I have the time?
Written By Wren
July 22, 2019, 5 p.m.(7/6/1011 AR)
Many things bring me great pleasure: Matilda's sweet rolls, just fresh out of the oven. A bolt of beautiful new fabric to bring home to my mother. The smell of autumn rain against the cobblestones. And many, many others. Things to bring a hint of sweetness to my life like Artshall honey.
Thankfully the list that brings me the most considerable displeasure is smaller. I've been re-taught a valuable lesson, and this time, I shall not make that mistake again.
Thankfully the list that brings me the most considerable displeasure is smaller. I've been re-taught a valuable lesson, and this time, I shall not make that mistake again.
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