Written By Victus
Jan. 26, 2018, 6:31 p.m.(1/16/1008 AR)
I wanna be a tree. A big tree. Fuck being a bulb, I don't got petals.
Written By Victus
Jan. 26, 2018, 3:39 p.m.(1/16/1008 AR)
I'm not one for dramatics in white journals, but while it's relevant I feel like I should make one comment:
The tolerance of Prince Abbas' actions and atrocities was a mistake on my part that can't be taken back. I will take whatever measures are needed to ensure they don't happen a second time.
My regret is not coming to that conclusion when lives were threatened.
The tolerance of Prince Abbas' actions and atrocities was a mistake on my part that can't be taken back. I will take whatever measures are needed to ensure they don't happen a second time.
My regret is not coming to that conclusion when lives were threatened.
Written By Victus
Jan. 25, 2018, 10:54 p.m.(1/14/1008 AR)
Relationship Note on Freja
I've had some days now to mull over the fact that you're out of this world. Back on the Wheel, somewhere else. Shit. I seen a thousand people die and I'll see thousands more, but yours really got to me. Ya know? You weren't so bad. You did a shit-load for me, maybe without realizing it too. I called so few people 'friend' in this city. Somehow we both hit it off onto being something that actually liked being around each other.
I miss it a lot. Those nights we spent on the ship. When we holed up and drank whiskey till we were fucking smashed. Talking about all the shit we hated and how much we did, then going on to some of the shit we actually liked. It was fun, ya' know?
Maybe sometime in a few hundred years we'll both come back around to do it all again. If we're lucky. I still got your shell and I'm gonna be keeping it in my back pocket from now on. Little piece of you to blame if I get fucked up somewhere down the line.
You stay safe out there, Freja.
I miss it a lot. Those nights we spent on the ship. When we holed up and drank whiskey till we were fucking smashed. Talking about all the shit we hated and how much we did, then going on to some of the shit we actually liked. It was fun, ya' know?
Maybe sometime in a few hundred years we'll both come back around to do it all again. If we're lucky. I still got your shell and I'm gonna be keeping it in my back pocket from now on. Little piece of you to blame if I get fucked up somewhere down the line.
You stay safe out there, Freja.
Written By Victus
Jan. 23, 2018, 3:11 a.m.(1/9/1008 AR)
Relationship Note on Khanne
Hoping to hear some good memories are ya', eh? I gotta say that most of the things I call 'happy' ain't the same brand of happy a lot of people enjoy in the same way. Lots of things actually, but I can think of a few. Few that matter anyway.
This one time when I was a real young little thing, I saw a girl huddled up in off the street corner. She had clamps on her wrists, clearly meaning she was property to someone else at the time. I had a hunk of bread leftover because Uncle Donrai kept me well-fed to grow big and strong and the like. Decided that this little girl looks hungry, she probably needs it more than me. So I handed it over. She was scared at first, probably wasn't used to anybody touching her if it wasn't to get smacked or dragged. But she came around when she saw I was just offering some food. She said thank you and I gave her a smile. Never saw her again.
Uncle Donrai though, he weren't too happy with me for that one. I can remember his words in the back of my head like it were yesterday.
"You must never be weak. The weak shall perish unmourned, unloved, and unremembered."
That was what he told me. Earned me a proper fucking shiner on the eye too, not from his own hand though. My Uncle never smiled much, but when he started wearin' that mask it's not like you could tell anyway. He definitely wasn't smiling on that day either.
"I will tolerate no such with you, Victus Baseborn. The bastard of Maelstrom, the son of Argus, will be a weapon soaked in the gore of our enemies. Never show weakness before me again, or I will see you cast into the sea."
So that's what I committed to doing when I was growin' up instead of sharing my bread with Thralls, and Uncle was satisfied. Pretty fucking grim I know, but the happy part of it I didn't realize till a whole lot later. When I started thinking on everything that got me this far without gettin' myself killed or a whole load of others either, I sometimes think about that little Thrall girl I spotted all those years ago. See she taught me something really, really important that I didn't even think of at the time.
That when the most important people in my life were trying to steer me wrong, I was still trying to do something halfway decent. Whenever there's a new pile of shit to deal with, I can always think back to that time and say "Yeah Victus, you were in a shit time and you did alright."
Lil gleaming pearl in a dark place. Taught me that even in the shittiest of times, surrounded by shittiest influences, somebody can still do a good thing for somebody else. And it'll never be too late for it to be you yourself. I dunno where that girl is now. In all likelihood, probably not with us anymore. But I appreciate her teaching me that it's never too dark for there to be a just a little bit of light.
So, happy memory from me. Do whatever it is you do with it.
This one time when I was a real young little thing, I saw a girl huddled up in off the street corner. She had clamps on her wrists, clearly meaning she was property to someone else at the time. I had a hunk of bread leftover because Uncle Donrai kept me well-fed to grow big and strong and the like. Decided that this little girl looks hungry, she probably needs it more than me. So I handed it over. She was scared at first, probably wasn't used to anybody touching her if it wasn't to get smacked or dragged. But she came around when she saw I was just offering some food. She said thank you and I gave her a smile. Never saw her again.
Uncle Donrai though, he weren't too happy with me for that one. I can remember his words in the back of my head like it were yesterday.
"You must never be weak. The weak shall perish unmourned, unloved, and unremembered."
That was what he told me. Earned me a proper fucking shiner on the eye too, not from his own hand though. My Uncle never smiled much, but when he started wearin' that mask it's not like you could tell anyway. He definitely wasn't smiling on that day either.
"I will tolerate no such with you, Victus Baseborn. The bastard of Maelstrom, the son of Argus, will be a weapon soaked in the gore of our enemies. Never show weakness before me again, or I will see you cast into the sea."
So that's what I committed to doing when I was growin' up instead of sharing my bread with Thralls, and Uncle was satisfied. Pretty fucking grim I know, but the happy part of it I didn't realize till a whole lot later. When I started thinking on everything that got me this far without gettin' myself killed or a whole load of others either, I sometimes think about that little Thrall girl I spotted all those years ago. See she taught me something really, really important that I didn't even think of at the time.
That when the most important people in my life were trying to steer me wrong, I was still trying to do something halfway decent. Whenever there's a new pile of shit to deal with, I can always think back to that time and say "Yeah Victus, you were in a shit time and you did alright."
Lil gleaming pearl in a dark place. Taught me that even in the shittiest of times, surrounded by shittiest influences, somebody can still do a good thing for somebody else. And it'll never be too late for it to be you yourself. I dunno where that girl is now. In all likelihood, probably not with us anymore. But I appreciate her teaching me that it's never too dark for there to be a just a little bit of light.
So, happy memory from me. Do whatever it is you do with it.
Written By Victus
Jan. 19, 2018, 11:10 p.m.(1/2/1008 AR)
Relationship Note on Freja
Gods damn it all, shit fuck. Who the fuck does something like this? You fucking coward out there. I'll see you bleed.
Written By Victus
Jan. 17, 2018, 1:47 a.m.(12/24/1007 AR)
Little over a decade ago I stormed beaches aplenty as a tyrant's attack dog. Now, I stare down from the other side of things.
I couldn't believe where I am now for a long time. Even as I'm staring at the crown, even when I sit in the throne and stare out at thousands of men preparing for war. It didn't seem real. But days turned to months. Months are becoming years. The things that require shits to be given is steadily growing. I don't think there'll ever come a time when I can look at myself in the mirror and say "Yeah, you're a leader."
But I can do one better when I look at myself and say "Yeah, I got this."
The more I think about our odds the less I tend to like them. It makes one think, what's my presence leaving this world gonna be like? Good, bad, other? Eh, if I had to guess not so bad. But not so bad isn't good, and it sure as shit isn't great either. There's no reason to settle for mediocrity when you don't get a second chance. Ya' don't plant trees to enjoy the shade, you do it so a hundred others after ya' get to.
There's a lot of my life to be regretful for. The stupidity of young power trips, the things I let happen under my watch, the hundred little things a drunk man fucks up as time goes on. There's a lot to apologize for and I can't imagine I've given out even half of what I need to. Forever cleaning up is preferable to forever fucking up though. Eventually, you might have peace.
There's one thing though that I can proudly say I've brought into this world before I'm gone. Astrid. Battleborn, Kraken's Terror. The eyes of the woman who has completed my life in ways I can only begin to describe. Truly, I've never made anything more perfect than this tiny lump that throws up and shits itself at a whim.
My little girl, you'll be fighting your whole life in our corner of the world. For every inch, my slayer of the depths. You'll grow strong and beautiful, with a Goddess smiling on the light you bring. Nobody shall rule forever and when the weight of this crown is on your head, I know you'll carry it better than anyone else did. You're born for it, and you'll be taught to survive.
Soon enough it will be time to construct a will to put all the shit in order in case nothing's I write about today doesn't mean a damn. Sure I could go off announcing my immortality and inevitable victory, but nothing worth having is ever gained without giving something in return. In this case it will end up being many, many lives no matter what way you spin it.
I've thought of one particular thing that I want to be logged publically so none can deny it's validity:
As a final request, I would like Archlector Aleksei and Duke Harald Grimhall to physically and literally "hug it out".
I couldn't believe where I am now for a long time. Even as I'm staring at the crown, even when I sit in the throne and stare out at thousands of men preparing for war. It didn't seem real. But days turned to months. Months are becoming years. The things that require shits to be given is steadily growing. I don't think there'll ever come a time when I can look at myself in the mirror and say "Yeah, you're a leader."
But I can do one better when I look at myself and say "Yeah, I got this."
The more I think about our odds the less I tend to like them. It makes one think, what's my presence leaving this world gonna be like? Good, bad, other? Eh, if I had to guess not so bad. But not so bad isn't good, and it sure as shit isn't great either. There's no reason to settle for mediocrity when you don't get a second chance. Ya' don't plant trees to enjoy the shade, you do it so a hundred others after ya' get to.
There's a lot of my life to be regretful for. The stupidity of young power trips, the things I let happen under my watch, the hundred little things a drunk man fucks up as time goes on. There's a lot to apologize for and I can't imagine I've given out even half of what I need to. Forever cleaning up is preferable to forever fucking up though. Eventually, you might have peace.
There's one thing though that I can proudly say I've brought into this world before I'm gone. Astrid. Battleborn, Kraken's Terror. The eyes of the woman who has completed my life in ways I can only begin to describe. Truly, I've never made anything more perfect than this tiny lump that throws up and shits itself at a whim.
My little girl, you'll be fighting your whole life in our corner of the world. For every inch, my slayer of the depths. You'll grow strong and beautiful, with a Goddess smiling on the light you bring. Nobody shall rule forever and when the weight of this crown is on your head, I know you'll carry it better than anyone else did. You're born for it, and you'll be taught to survive.
Soon enough it will be time to construct a will to put all the shit in order in case nothing's I write about today doesn't mean a damn. Sure I could go off announcing my immortality and inevitable victory, but nothing worth having is ever gained without giving something in return. In this case it will end up being many, many lives no matter what way you spin it.
I've thought of one particular thing that I want to be logged publically so none can deny it's validity:
As a final request, I would like Archlector Aleksei and Duke Harald Grimhall to physically and literally "hug it out".
Written By Victus
Jan. 13, 2018, 1:35 a.m.(12/16/1007 AR)
Relationship Note on Eleyna
You wanna get adopted too?
Written By Victus
Jan. 13, 2018, 12:39 a.m.(12/16/1007 AR)
Relationship Note on Joscelin
You like boats? Wanna get adopted over here instead?
Written By Victus
Jan. 12, 2018, 9:52 p.m.(12/16/1007 AR)
I don't have much to add seeing all these archives pile up on each other. Exciting day I can tell. But one thing I did notice that I think needs to be brought up: The Grayhopes are all over the fucking place. I was coming here to ask them to tone it down, but it's already such a fucking tangled web that I'm getting sticky just sitting here talking about it.
One that's Death's chosen
One that's acting Commander of the Knights of Solace
One that's a revered artist
One that keeps slammed his head into white journals (and often getting slammed back)
One that runs a bar in the Lower Boroughs
One that can smith alaricite
And one that's Magpie.
If you lot ever get tired of the lucrative erotica business, one could probably make a fortune just chronicling every little branching path that you've all taken over the years.
One that's Death's chosen
One that's acting Commander of the Knights of Solace
One that's a revered artist
One that keeps slammed his head into white journals (and often getting slammed back)
One that runs a bar in the Lower Boroughs
One that can smith alaricite
And one that's Magpie.
If you lot ever get tired of the lucrative erotica business, one could probably make a fortune just chronicling every little branching path that you've all taken over the years.
Written By Victus
Jan. 10, 2018, 2:59 a.m.(12/8/1007 AR)
I feel I can make a single piece of advice ring out every which way I could...
Don't panic. Just don't.
Don't panic. Just don't.
Written By Victus
Jan. 2, 2018, 1:27 p.m.(11/19/1007 AR)
Relationship Note on Edain
Readin' journals today, just wanna commend you real quick on that quote from your old relative you keep close.
Written By Victus
Dec. 29, 2017, 10:46 p.m.(11/12/1007 AR)
Relationship Note on Eleyna
I am the one thing in life I don't control.
I am inimitable
I am an original.
I'm not falling behind or running late.
I'm not standing still
I am lying in wait.
I am inimitable
I am an original.
I'm not falling behind or running late.
I'm not standing still
I am lying in wait.
Written By Victus
Dec. 26, 2017, 12:15 p.m.(11/5/1007 AR)
Relationship Note on Edain
D E E R
S Q U I R R E L
F O O D
R A B B I T
B A C O N
S Q U I R R E L
F O O D
R A B B I T
B A C O N
Written By Victus
Dec. 25, 2017, 7:07 p.m.(11/4/1007 AR)
So I decided to take some time recently to read through my good brother Magpie's recent literature. He hinted that he wanted to know what I thought when I was done, so today I'll be launching a Victus-certified review of the 4 part series "The Soldier and the Sailor".
As a disclaimer, I don't like reading books. Too many words on a page gives me a headache and headaches make me mad. Usually I tear books that make me mad, but I like Magpie so I only ripped his work a little bit through the course of this. Granted Magpie is also what I call a 'shitter', so part of the book probably deserved it and I'll damn well fight you if you wanna tell me otherwise.
So the book starts with who I'm guessing is the protagonist, 'Calurdun' laying in bed. There's a lot of detail that goes into how he's partially naked, how musky he is and how muscular he looks. This was the first tip that this book was gonna about two men rubbing their asses together (or whatever they do, it got explained to me once and honestly I wasn't listening) but I pressed on anyway. So then we have this other character, Mapgie, who's bringing a breakfast sandwich. Two loaves of bread with tomato and sauces and all kinds of other shit. It made me hungry so I took a break to go get a sandwich of my own. When I came back, the cat was sitting on the cover and kept clawing the shit out of me when I tried to read again. I think she was a fan? I dunno, it took me about an hour to get back to it. The sandwich I had was good.
Carrying on into the book, Calurdun wakes up and he realizes he's late. But not before he inhales the musky aroma of the sandwich and begins to have thoughts to who could have left it. There's some sappy shit here about heart fluttering. Mapgie makes it painfully obvious that there's some deep, unrequited sexual tension between the two of them. So the theory I had about ass rubbing was pretty much correct and for a moment I had to stand up and take a walk to prepare for what I was about to get into. Going really deep in a metaphorical and soon to be literal way.
Anyway, musky protagonist man gets dressed and runs off to the Iron Guard with his friend Spitte. There's some kinda banjo concert that's supposed to be happening but really it's more of a backdrop while Mapgie and Calurdun fantasize about fucking each other. This is where the book started to frustrate me a bit, because these two men do not adhere to Thrax courting standards at all. Why did Mapgie, the larger of the two, not simply conquer Calurdun's bedchambers for bareback dirty dancing right when he brought him the musky sandwich? I'm not well-versed on male on male action but I expected a lot more brawling and clawing for the top and bottom bunk than this. It confuses and pisses me off. This is where I started ripping pages, so I missed some extra plot because I could only read half of it.
I know you can make the point that tryin' to deliver the business to somebody in full metal armor is a real chafing task in more ways than one, but Mapgie clearly has some intelligence on him. He orchestrated the musky sandwich deliver and we clearly see that Calurdun loses his blankets 'accidentally'. You're telling me you couldn't set this up to be some kind of clever, romantic trap? Have you never hunted for a cut of prime meat before? You definitely know what it looks like because you describe it in ten goddamn paragraphs on this Calurdun fellow. For GOD'S SAKE PUT A GODDAMN BOX WITH A STRING UNDER THAT SANDWICH. IT'S THE EASIEST SHIT IN THE WORLD. WHY THE FUCK ARE WE CONCERNING OURSELVES WITH BANJOS RIGHT NOW? YOU HAVE THE OPPORTUNITY IN YOUR SIGHTS AND YOU DECIDE TO GO PLUCK SOME BANJOS?
GET YOUR SHIT TOGETHER MAPGIE, YOU'RE FUCKING TERRIBLE AT GETTING ASS
(The rest of journal's page has been torn violently)
Anyway, so we move on to the banjo part of the story which was kinda an unexpected twist. Props for that, it did make me feel emotions for how pissed I got we were moving away from hunting and tracking a lover. Mapgie literally shoves his soul into a banjo called Heartstrings, which is apparently beautiful enough that it makes kittens cry. I wanted to test that for myself, so I showed the book to the cat again.
She tore it in half and hissed at me. I should've known better, she's not a kitten. So I cleaned up the paper shreds and put together what I could. But the book was pretty unsalvageable at this point, I mean it was fucked. It was really fucked. But I got to the epilogue at least which was only kind of ripped. It's got a pretty happy ending, but it also leaves you wanting for more. Like a thirst that can't be quenched. This book made me thirsty is what I'm getting at. Thirsty for what, I don't know.
Pros and Cons-
Pros:
You'll get hot, steamy, hungry, thirsty and have an in-depth reflection on love and courting. Also if you got pets, they'll probably like sitting and chewing on it.
Cons:
I tried to eat a sandwich after the book and I felt really uncomfortable putting any of it in my mouth. Fuck you Magpie, I liked breakfast sandwiches.
...
...
...
I'm really drunk.
As a disclaimer, I don't like reading books. Too many words on a page gives me a headache and headaches make me mad. Usually I tear books that make me mad, but I like Magpie so I only ripped his work a little bit through the course of this. Granted Magpie is also what I call a 'shitter', so part of the book probably deserved it and I'll damn well fight you if you wanna tell me otherwise.
So the book starts with who I'm guessing is the protagonist, 'Calurdun' laying in bed. There's a lot of detail that goes into how he's partially naked, how musky he is and how muscular he looks. This was the first tip that this book was gonna about two men rubbing their asses together (or whatever they do, it got explained to me once and honestly I wasn't listening) but I pressed on anyway. So then we have this other character, Mapgie, who's bringing a breakfast sandwich. Two loaves of bread with tomato and sauces and all kinds of other shit. It made me hungry so I took a break to go get a sandwich of my own. When I came back, the cat was sitting on the cover and kept clawing the shit out of me when I tried to read again. I think she was a fan? I dunno, it took me about an hour to get back to it. The sandwich I had was good.
Carrying on into the book, Calurdun wakes up and he realizes he's late. But not before he inhales the musky aroma of the sandwich and begins to have thoughts to who could have left it. There's some sappy shit here about heart fluttering. Mapgie makes it painfully obvious that there's some deep, unrequited sexual tension between the two of them. So the theory I had about ass rubbing was pretty much correct and for a moment I had to stand up and take a walk to prepare for what I was about to get into. Going really deep in a metaphorical and soon to be literal way.
Anyway, musky protagonist man gets dressed and runs off to the Iron Guard with his friend Spitte. There's some kinda banjo concert that's supposed to be happening but really it's more of a backdrop while Mapgie and Calurdun fantasize about fucking each other. This is where the book started to frustrate me a bit, because these two men do not adhere to Thrax courting standards at all. Why did Mapgie, the larger of the two, not simply conquer Calurdun's bedchambers for bareback dirty dancing right when he brought him the musky sandwich? I'm not well-versed on male on male action but I expected a lot more brawling and clawing for the top and bottom bunk than this. It confuses and pisses me off. This is where I started ripping pages, so I missed some extra plot because I could only read half of it.
I know you can make the point that tryin' to deliver the business to somebody in full metal armor is a real chafing task in more ways than one, but Mapgie clearly has some intelligence on him. He orchestrated the musky sandwich deliver and we clearly see that Calurdun loses his blankets 'accidentally'. You're telling me you couldn't set this up to be some kind of clever, romantic trap? Have you never hunted for a cut of prime meat before? You definitely know what it looks like because you describe it in ten goddamn paragraphs on this Calurdun fellow. For GOD'S SAKE PUT A GODDAMN BOX WITH A STRING UNDER THAT SANDWICH. IT'S THE EASIEST SHIT IN THE WORLD. WHY THE FUCK ARE WE CONCERNING OURSELVES WITH BANJOS RIGHT NOW? YOU HAVE THE OPPORTUNITY IN YOUR SIGHTS AND YOU DECIDE TO GO PLUCK SOME BANJOS?
GET YOUR SHIT TOGETHER MAPGIE, YOU'RE FUCKING TERRIBLE AT GETTING ASS
(The rest of journal's page has been torn violently)
Anyway, so we move on to the banjo part of the story which was kinda an unexpected twist. Props for that, it did make me feel emotions for how pissed I got we were moving away from hunting and tracking a lover. Mapgie literally shoves his soul into a banjo called Heartstrings, which is apparently beautiful enough that it makes kittens cry. I wanted to test that for myself, so I showed the book to the cat again.
She tore it in half and hissed at me. I should've known better, she's not a kitten. So I cleaned up the paper shreds and put together what I could. But the book was pretty unsalvageable at this point, I mean it was fucked. It was really fucked. But I got to the epilogue at least which was only kind of ripped. It's got a pretty happy ending, but it also leaves you wanting for more. Like a thirst that can't be quenched. This book made me thirsty is what I'm getting at. Thirsty for what, I don't know.
Pros and Cons-
Pros:
You'll get hot, steamy, hungry, thirsty and have an in-depth reflection on love and courting. Also if you got pets, they'll probably like sitting and chewing on it.
Cons:
I tried to eat a sandwich after the book and I felt really uncomfortable putting any of it in my mouth. Fuck you Magpie, I liked breakfast sandwiches.
...
...
...
I'm really drunk.
Written By Victus
Dec. 20, 2017, 6:56 p.m.(10/22/1007 AR)
Relationship Note on Marian
Play dates? Suppose so. Maybe when they're grown they'll have just as many legendary matches as we've had. Speakin' of, we really need to find ourselves another reason to get knocking.
Socks was last time, so maybe another article of clothing. You and my wife got something similar enough, right? Skirts? Blouses? Frilly hair shit?
Socks was last time, so maybe another article of clothing. You and my wife got something similar enough, right? Skirts? Blouses? Frilly hair shit?
Written By Victus
Dec. 19, 2017, 5:48 p.m.(10/20/1007 AR)
Relationship Note on Magpie
My wife and I will take 10.
Written By Victus
Dec. 19, 2017, 1:52 p.m.(10/20/1007 AR)
Relationship Note on Magpie
Apparently from the sounds, this DTF thing is some kinda expression of camaraderie. So ya know what Mag? Fuck what they all say.
If you got a dream to be one sappy motherfuck and share it with the world you go and do it. I'll be DTF you, your wife, your whole damn family by the end of it if need be.
Follow that passion, damn it.
If you got a dream to be one sappy motherfuck and share it with the world you go and do it. I'll be DTF you, your wife, your whole damn family by the end of it if need be.
Follow that passion, damn it.
Written By Victus
Dec. 15, 2017, 1:57 p.m.(10/12/1007 AR)
Astrid.
Written By Victus
Dec. 9, 2017, 2:07 p.m.(9/26/1007 AR)
There really aren't enough problems that are easily solved with a quick swing of an axe.
A shame.
A shame.
Written By Victus
Dec. 7, 2017, 6:37 p.m.(9/22/1007 AR)
Relationship Note on Freja
Smooches? -Smooches-? By the gods woman, we're a bunch of married codgers with responsibilities. We can't just be fucking about in the open. Are you trying to get your ass thrown? Because I got several witnesses that know damn well, I can throw people far.
Please note that the scholars may take some time preparing your journal for others to read.