Written By Talen
March 9, 2018, 6:19 p.m.(5/1/1008 AR)
Relationship Note on Harper
That's what you get when you disappear unannounced, Harper.
Tsk.
Tsk.
Written By Harper
March 9, 2018, 6:18 p.m.(5/1/1008 AR)
I've been away for a bit, I think. There were three messengers waiting for me when I came to. All three from Prince Talen Velenosa. I should get in touch as soon as possible.
Written By Driskell
March 9, 2018, 6:04 p.m.(5/1/1008 AR)
Children very much take on the burdens and sins of their parents, otherwise why do refer to former Abandoned who were born in that environment and become citizens of the Compact as Prodigals? Doesn't humanity with broad brush paint those who are our enemies as evil? Do we not strip them of personable traits so that war and death can happen without guilt attached to such choices we make or how it impacts a cycle which repeats with the children born in such chaos? Do we not make clear distinctions that you are part of this fealty or that one?
If on one hand you say children are not tied to the sins of their forebears, then you're also saying a child should not be tied to the successes of their ancestors...and as such, the whole entire thought of social class distinctions should be erased with a skill and aptitude-based meritocracy.
But I don't see that happening.
If on one hand you say children are not tied to the sins of their forebears, then you're also saying a child should not be tied to the successes of their ancestors...and as such, the whole entire thought of social class distinctions should be erased with a skill and aptitude-based meritocracy.
But I don't see that happening.
Written By Estil
March 9, 2018, 5:54 p.m.(5/1/1008 AR)
The weather is fair, the streets are bustling, and here I am locked away slaving over documents and tedious, dry correspondence. Windows open to the fresh breeze. I can't even begrudge the droplets of ink gone astray with the occasional gust of wind. Someone come rescue this fair maiden from the drudgery of household duties!
Written By Bianca
March 9, 2018, 5:52 p.m.(5/1/1008 AR)
"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."
Written By Wynna
March 9, 2018, 5:41 p.m.(5/1/1008 AR)
I weep for the poor messengers. At least Arx shan't lack for strong runners.
Written By Jeffeth
March 9, 2018, 5:32 p.m.(5/1/1008 AR)
Thank you to everyone who has reached out to me on behalf of the kids Your kindness will not be forgotten by Gild Or me I would like to clarify that I don't run any orphanages, I grew up in one, but I do spend a lot of time in the lowers orphanages So I know a lot of kids and a lot of staff I can certainly help point people in the right direction if you so choose I was thinking about trying to have an event for some of the kids Where there would be contests the kids could watch with prizes so a lot of people could come Raise awareness, and have some fun, meet some of the kids If anyone would be interested in donating prizes for that kind of thing or helping out with it, I'm not such a great organizer or a writer for that matter
Scholar what do you mean run on sentence, I can't finish the journal if I run off
Scholar what do you mean run on sentence, I can't finish the journal if I run off
Written By Marian
March 9, 2018, 5:09 p.m.(5/1/1008 AR)
Relationship Note on Percephon
You are one of the smartest men that I have ever met. Your engagement to Lady Khanne only solidifies my belief of your intelligence. She is a beautiful treasure who's beauty shines both inside and out.
As you pack your things to move to the Redrain Villa, know an old friend waits to greet you.
As you pack your things to move to the Redrain Villa, know an old friend waits to greet you.
Written By Joscelin
March 9, 2018, 5:06 p.m.(5/1/1008 AR)
The ingot of gold melts in the crucible, cherry red and radiating heat so fierce, the air that hugs it trembles.
The trick is keeping the metal open to the flame, to keep it close, to hug the heat in with rocks that are perfect for reflecting it back into that puddle of molten metal. The flame must embrace the metal, the metal must stay open, so you bathe the stream as you pour it into the mold, the fire blazes and the metal pours through it. The gold stays liquid, flows free and into every finely carved detail, every edge and corner that was painstakingly worked on.
If you pull the heat back too soon, if you run out of fuel when you need it most, if you use too much gold and the flame isn't big enough, if you close the metal off from the affections of the torch, it will not flow. It will leave you with a half-filled mold, the plaster ruined, the original model destroyed and lost to the forge, all that work, all that time, all of it for nothing.
An apprentice must make these mistakes, they must learn and practice until such things never happen again. Maybe this requires more control, more attention, a singular devotion to this one detail for as long as it takes. Bathe the metal in flame. Pour it through, cradle the heat close, keep the molten gold open to it. Be bold. Don't give up.
But enough failure convinces you that the tools and the method are not the problem.
Perhaps it's just you.
The trick is keeping the metal open to the flame, to keep it close, to hug the heat in with rocks that are perfect for reflecting it back into that puddle of molten metal. The flame must embrace the metal, the metal must stay open, so you bathe the stream as you pour it into the mold, the fire blazes and the metal pours through it. The gold stays liquid, flows free and into every finely carved detail, every edge and corner that was painstakingly worked on.
If you pull the heat back too soon, if you run out of fuel when you need it most, if you use too much gold and the flame isn't big enough, if you close the metal off from the affections of the torch, it will not flow. It will leave you with a half-filled mold, the plaster ruined, the original model destroyed and lost to the forge, all that work, all that time, all of it for nothing.
An apprentice must make these mistakes, they must learn and practice until such things never happen again. Maybe this requires more control, more attention, a singular devotion to this one detail for as long as it takes. Bathe the metal in flame. Pour it through, cradle the heat close, keep the molten gold open to it. Be bold. Don't give up.
But enough failure convinces you that the tools and the method are not the problem.
Perhaps it's just you.
Written By Marian
March 9, 2018, 5:05 p.m.(5/1/1008 AR)
Relationship Note on Khanne
Strong marriages do not happen by luck or accident. They are the result of time, thoughtfulness, forgiveness, affection, mutual respect and partnership.
I look forward to watching you build a family with Lord Percephon. Watch as my own children play along side your own. I have no doubts to the strength of this union. Both of you are people that I admire as individuals. As a unit you will be an unstoppable force.
I look forward to watching you build a family with Lord Percephon. Watch as my own children play along side your own. I have no doubts to the strength of this union. Both of you are people that I admire as individuals. As a unit you will be an unstoppable force.
Written By Perrach
March 9, 2018, 4:43 p.m.(5/1/1008 AR)
I've served House Thrax for many years and will continue do so. I've been granted the opportunity to act as commander of a troop of infantry. Bet those sorry asses won't be ready for what I got planned.
Written By Elgana
March 9, 2018, 4:41 p.m.(5/1/1008 AR)
Relationship Note on Isabetta
You. You are my best friend. It has been deemed so.
I delight in the things we shall do!
Others may yet not.
I delight in the things we shall do!
Others may yet not.
Written By Mirari
March 9, 2018, 4:34 p.m.(5/1/1008 AR)
I don't even like Duchess Pravus very much, but I think she made a good decision taking in those children. Do I think they should have been enobled? Probably not. Not because I think it's a huge deal, that's for you nobles to figure out. From the outside , looking in, those poor children's lives are going to change completely. New rules, certain atitudes, restrictions. I don't remember much of my childhood , but I wish someone had taken me in, my life would have been completely different.
Written By Joscelin
March 9, 2018, 4:28 p.m.(5/1/1008 AR)
An artisan wakes from a dream.
The dream brings with it inspiration for a thousand different creations. It's rushed, it pours through her like rain, through her mind, soul, heart, through to hands that rush to put them all down on paper by drawing or writing or both. It's a mad scramble to get it all out before it might be forgotten, the fickle morning state of the mind predictable only in it's inability to be predictable.
A tiny portion of those ideas make it to fruition. A half dozen to a hundred beautiful, usable concepts.
In the aftermath of their creation, the works are made, sitting on the table or a bench of a desk or a floor, and for a small moment, a heartbeat in the life of a butterfly, the artisan feels awe, pride, joy that they have created something that isn't just worthy in their eyes, but -makes them feel worthy- of the inspiration that gave it life.
A moment later, the joy is gone, the artisan's self-worth drawn closed, the piece a disappointment.
It would never match the untouched, pristine idea born of Jayus, it will never meet those impossible standards that -we- impose on ourselves and our work; Jayus asks us to Make, the purest form of our abilities, to follow the inspiration and let it birth through us.
But the vision we saw never matches the thing we've made; what we've made never meets what we wanted, what we think Jayus wants of us, what -we- wanted to make it to be. Many of us think us then unworthy; perhaps that's why it failed. Perhaps that's why it will always, always be a disappointment to us.
The item is placed for sale, often because the more practical people in our lives, our friends and assistants and companions, tell us we're being ridiculous and save it from the trash heap. A ridiculous price is put on said item; we scoff. "No one is going to fall for that."
The item is bought. Taken. Praised; the new owner is in love, the artisan now has a customer for life.
A few days past. Indulgences are given, the artisan sleeps for a few days, drinks every night, maybe disappears from their studio. Not always the case, but it is for many, myself included. I will work for days on end, forget to eat, forget to sleep, and when I make The Thing I wanted to, after those first blissful heartbeats, I deem it a failure, catch up on sleep and sustenance, and a week later, I'm ready to go back to work.
Often, these are commissions. Some artists work on pure inspiration, and to them, I consider them to be the purest form of Crafter; no commissions, the only instructions they receive in guidance are from the Gods. As the Crafters Guild stems from a branch of the Faith, or so it is rumored, then Crafters were originally Disciples of Jayus, to create such honors Him. We create, we Honor Him, work from Him.
Customers purchase what we create, they honor Him.
Time passes. The cycle begins anew. A thousand ideas from one dream, six make it to the pages of our sketchbooks and design tables and journals, half of those are birthed into reality. We see the joy in its beauty, the joy it can bring to others. Seconds later, we hate it, hate ourselves, our mortal hands that are so limited, so restricted by human flesh and aging bones. Those that love us rescue what we've created, show it to the world. Money comes in. We repair our bodies. We rest. We start again.
Not every artisan is like this, not every Crafter, not everyone who creates, but it is the case for many. It is the case for me. Everything I make is a labor of love, to someone, to an idea, to a dream, to Jayus, and when it's done, when it's put out in my shop to be purchased as the individual creation that it is, I didn't put it there. It was rescued before it hit the rubbish pile. I am humbled, always, as they never seem to linger in my store for more than a day. I suspect I'm simply tricking the lot of you. Half the time, expressions of joy in my work are met with my disbelief. I simply hide it well.
That being said? Every one of my Crafters, every Artisan I have ever met, puts everything they are into everything they make. While I struggle with my own self-worth in the things I make, in how what envisioned is not what is made, my Crafters do me proud, the non-Guild artisans also make me proud. It's a bond between us, the struggle of creation, to bring forth with our mortal hands what our eternal selves can so easily receive. It isn't fair. It's a struggle, it's never fair, but it's always worth it.
Often, when I am out and about, be it market perusing, meeting with suppliers, attending a fete, and I see someone wearing one of those special items I made, the ones I aimed for the trash bin only to have snatched from me before it made it that far, I am in awe. I am in awe that I was chosen to make such a beautiful thing, that it gives joy not only to the person that wears it but them that witness it upon them. It makes all the rage and work and tears and blood worth it, and in its fleeting bliss it makes it that much more precious, a feeling we strive for, a satisfaction nothing can come close to.
The dream brings with it inspiration for a thousand different creations. It's rushed, it pours through her like rain, through her mind, soul, heart, through to hands that rush to put them all down on paper by drawing or writing or both. It's a mad scramble to get it all out before it might be forgotten, the fickle morning state of the mind predictable only in it's inability to be predictable.
A tiny portion of those ideas make it to fruition. A half dozen to a hundred beautiful, usable concepts.
In the aftermath of their creation, the works are made, sitting on the table or a bench of a desk or a floor, and for a small moment, a heartbeat in the life of a butterfly, the artisan feels awe, pride, joy that they have created something that isn't just worthy in their eyes, but -makes them feel worthy- of the inspiration that gave it life.
A moment later, the joy is gone, the artisan's self-worth drawn closed, the piece a disappointment.
It would never match the untouched, pristine idea born of Jayus, it will never meet those impossible standards that -we- impose on ourselves and our work; Jayus asks us to Make, the purest form of our abilities, to follow the inspiration and let it birth through us.
But the vision we saw never matches the thing we've made; what we've made never meets what we wanted, what we think Jayus wants of us, what -we- wanted to make it to be. Many of us think us then unworthy; perhaps that's why it failed. Perhaps that's why it will always, always be a disappointment to us.
The item is placed for sale, often because the more practical people in our lives, our friends and assistants and companions, tell us we're being ridiculous and save it from the trash heap. A ridiculous price is put on said item; we scoff. "No one is going to fall for that."
The item is bought. Taken. Praised; the new owner is in love, the artisan now has a customer for life.
A few days past. Indulgences are given, the artisan sleeps for a few days, drinks every night, maybe disappears from their studio. Not always the case, but it is for many, myself included. I will work for days on end, forget to eat, forget to sleep, and when I make The Thing I wanted to, after those first blissful heartbeats, I deem it a failure, catch up on sleep and sustenance, and a week later, I'm ready to go back to work.
Often, these are commissions. Some artists work on pure inspiration, and to them, I consider them to be the purest form of Crafter; no commissions, the only instructions they receive in guidance are from the Gods. As the Crafters Guild stems from a branch of the Faith, or so it is rumored, then Crafters were originally Disciples of Jayus, to create such honors Him. We create, we Honor Him, work from Him.
Customers purchase what we create, they honor Him.
Time passes. The cycle begins anew. A thousand ideas from one dream, six make it to the pages of our sketchbooks and design tables and journals, half of those are birthed into reality. We see the joy in its beauty, the joy it can bring to others. Seconds later, we hate it, hate ourselves, our mortal hands that are so limited, so restricted by human flesh and aging bones. Those that love us rescue what we've created, show it to the world. Money comes in. We repair our bodies. We rest. We start again.
Not every artisan is like this, not every Crafter, not everyone who creates, but it is the case for many. It is the case for me. Everything I make is a labor of love, to someone, to an idea, to a dream, to Jayus, and when it's done, when it's put out in my shop to be purchased as the individual creation that it is, I didn't put it there. It was rescued before it hit the rubbish pile. I am humbled, always, as they never seem to linger in my store for more than a day. I suspect I'm simply tricking the lot of you. Half the time, expressions of joy in my work are met with my disbelief. I simply hide it well.
That being said? Every one of my Crafters, every Artisan I have ever met, puts everything they are into everything they make. While I struggle with my own self-worth in the things I make, in how what envisioned is not what is made, my Crafters do me proud, the non-Guild artisans also make me proud. It's a bond between us, the struggle of creation, to bring forth with our mortal hands what our eternal selves can so easily receive. It isn't fair. It's a struggle, it's never fair, but it's always worth it.
Often, when I am out and about, be it market perusing, meeting with suppliers, attending a fete, and I see someone wearing one of those special items I made, the ones I aimed for the trash bin only to have snatched from me before it made it that far, I am in awe. I am in awe that I was chosen to make such a beautiful thing, that it gives joy not only to the person that wears it but them that witness it upon them. It makes all the rage and work and tears and blood worth it, and in its fleeting bliss it makes it that much more precious, a feeling we strive for, a satisfaction nothing can come close to.
Written By Thena
March 9, 2018, 4:26 p.m.(5/1/1008 AR)
Citizens of Arx,
On behalf of the Knights of Solace and the Tragedy, thank you for the outpouring of support in response to Sir Jeffeth’s journal. It is heartwarming and, for me at least, humbling. However, I would ask you to hang on to your messengers and offers for just a short time while we come up with a way to formally organize your efforts in order to most benefit the orphanage.
Dame Thena, Adjutant to Grandmaster Armel, Knights of Solace
On behalf of the Knights of Solace and the Tragedy, thank you for the outpouring of support in response to Sir Jeffeth’s journal. It is heartwarming and, for me at least, humbling. However, I would ask you to hang on to your messengers and offers for just a short time while we come up with a way to formally organize your efforts in order to most benefit the orphanage.
Dame Thena, Adjutant to Grandmaster Armel, Knights of Solace
Written By Ida
March 9, 2018, 4:20 p.m.(5/1/1008 AR)
Relationship Note on Orazio
I would teach even though who wish to join The Faith as well, of course. Smithing as well as pugilism, should you have any interested. How fortunate they are, as are we all, for all the good provided by The Faith. If I might be able to help somehow, in any small way, how could I possibly turn down such an opportunity?
Written By Reigna
March 9, 2018, 4:19 p.m.(5/1/1008 AR)
Relationship Note on Ida
I find myself full of awe and pride in Dame Ida Ferron. Your skills are extraordinary, as is your heart. I am proud to be a fellow Oathlander with you, Dame Ferron.
Written By Ida
March 9, 2018, 4:15 p.m.(5/1/1008 AR)
Relationship Note on Daemon
There is no one I would rather ride into an ambush with, on the back of a war elk, than you, Sir Daemon!
You are the best of people.
You are the best of people.
Written By Aureth
March 9, 2018, 4:15 p.m.(5/1/1008 AR)
Relationship Note on Abbas
Entering journals at the Archive is a religious duty. Excommunicated mass murderers have no business partaking.
Written By Skye
March 9, 2018, 4:13 p.m.(5/1/1008 AR)
Relationship Note on Jeffeth
Sir Jeffeth, House Blackshore has many opportunities for orphans who are willing to roll up their sleeves and help rebuild Blackshore Isle. We have need of skilled tradesmen, sailors, fishermen, and farmers to work the land. Any orphans that are coming to age and wish to learn a trade, my house would be more than happy to sponsor their apprenticeship for their service in return. Please seek me out further if you have any questions.
Please note that the scholars may take some time preparing your journal for others to read.