Written By Mattheu
Jan. 5, 2024, 11:42 a.m.(7/2/1021 AR)
A world where our choices are finally and completely of our own. Nothing is written to lead our direction. Of what my people would call upon the winds leading us to where we were meant to be is still a solid direction for us to follow. Only we do have the ability to steer rudder as well. We're not forced to find ourselves in one location when our hearts wish us to be at another.
There are two stars which the Rivenshari look to. Have claimed as their own over the rivers around Riva. They are ours, will always be ours, you can even ask any of the Civashari. They might protect all of our nights sky, all of the choices made previous. The Lovers belong to the Rivenshari.
It is their choices which have lead us in life. Will continue to lead us.
The wind may blow to our sails and give guidance.
We will continue to fight for choice.
There are two stars which the Rivenshari look to. Have claimed as their own over the rivers around Riva. They are ours, will always be ours, you can even ask any of the Civashari. They might protect all of our nights sky, all of the choices made previous. The Lovers belong to the Rivenshari.
It is their choices which have lead us in life. Will continue to lead us.
The wind may blow to our sails and give guidance.
We will continue to fight for choice.
Written By Pasquale
Jan. 5, 2024, 8:56 a.m.(7/2/1021 AR)
When I was a child less than a year old my father, the late Baron Marco Engolo, met one of the rare mages that existed even back then.
Engolo has always had a heavy reliance on its vineyards and those vineyards were dying.
So he made a deal with this mage trading the health of one of his sons for the health of the vines.
My Health.
May history judge him.
Engolo has always had a heavy reliance on its vineyards and those vineyards were dying.
So he made a deal with this mage trading the health of one of his sons for the health of the vines.
My Health.
May history judge him.
Written By Sen'azala
Jan. 5, 2024, 4:43 a.m.(7/2/1021 AR)
I've heard people sing my grandmother's praises - literally, in some cases - and these past few weeks I've found myself wondering if they understand *what* they're celebrating. This world once had only a single path. The future was known and unquestioned. Safe. Eternal. Unchanging. It didn't even know death. What Wolf did broke the world. The night sky was once empty apart from dead Destiny, and every star we can see now is the soul of a dead First Child. The sky is a graveyard. Wolf has watched it fill up for thousands upon thousands of years, and has never chosen to stop singing.
The price of Choice is Consequence.
What's happening now are the consequences of millions and millions of choices. Many of those choices are happening right now, with the consequences immediate. Many of those choices happened long, long ago, and the consequences are catching up all at once. One of those choices was made at Harrow Hall, and it was mine, mine alone, mine forever.
The idea that the Horned God should have gone unopposed there is insane, but defeating him is not what broke every writ, and even the concept of writs. He was already defeated. The Kindly Voices came, they declared his bargain forfeit, and they listened to, and accepted, his daughter's accusation. She had the choice to condemn him, and she did. The people with her did. The dead, *thousands of them*, did.
There was a second choice that had to be made, a choice of what shape the Horned God's defeat would take. He had threaded pieces of his soul through the souls of thousands of his slaves, and through Legion itself, as a final protection to keep himself from dying. Not even the Kindly Voices could kill him with that in place, but they could, and easily, break it. Doing so would also shatter every chain, everywhere, every last writ.
The alternative was to imprison him forever, but the souls of Legion's slaves would be the bars of his prison. They would be bound, forever, imprisoned, *forever*, alongside him. They would never return to the Wheel, and neither would he. They would never know freedom again. A fucking atrocity, for the sake of preserving other atrocities.
These were the options the Kindly Voices presented, the only ones, and they were given to me alone. I asked them if there could still be a world if I chose to break his last protection. They said yes. They said it would be a time of chaos, that something better might be built from it, but not even they could know what might happen. Destiny is dead. The Book of Endings burned. Nothing is written, and our future is in our hands.
I told them to break them. All of them. Every chain. Every slaver. Every slave freed. I said that we would sing our own songs, we would write our own stories. I did not do this without knowing what could happen. I did not have a moment of childish ideals. I did not do it to kill the Horned God, although I *did*, and it was *good*. I did it because the alternative was unthinkable. I did it to give them back their choices. All of them. All of their choices.
And I knew there would be *consequences*.
I am a child of Wolf, and she once showed me the empty sky, slowly filling up with stars; the consequences of choices only made possible by her choice. I sang her song to end the Horned God, and when it came time to decide how, I made the choice that was mine. Whatever that makes me, I won't have the choices, the *sacrifices*, of those I was with be twisted or blamed for this. I broke the world. What they did saved the chance for a better one.
The price of Choice is Consequence.
What's happening now are the consequences of millions and millions of choices. Many of those choices are happening right now, with the consequences immediate. Many of those choices happened long, long ago, and the consequences are catching up all at once. One of those choices was made at Harrow Hall, and it was mine, mine alone, mine forever.
The idea that the Horned God should have gone unopposed there is insane, but defeating him is not what broke every writ, and even the concept of writs. He was already defeated. The Kindly Voices came, they declared his bargain forfeit, and they listened to, and accepted, his daughter's accusation. She had the choice to condemn him, and she did. The people with her did. The dead, *thousands of them*, did.
There was a second choice that had to be made, a choice of what shape the Horned God's defeat would take. He had threaded pieces of his soul through the souls of thousands of his slaves, and through Legion itself, as a final protection to keep himself from dying. Not even the Kindly Voices could kill him with that in place, but they could, and easily, break it. Doing so would also shatter every chain, everywhere, every last writ.
The alternative was to imprison him forever, but the souls of Legion's slaves would be the bars of his prison. They would be bound, forever, imprisoned, *forever*, alongside him. They would never return to the Wheel, and neither would he. They would never know freedom again. A fucking atrocity, for the sake of preserving other atrocities.
These were the options the Kindly Voices presented, the only ones, and they were given to me alone. I asked them if there could still be a world if I chose to break his last protection. They said yes. They said it would be a time of chaos, that something better might be built from it, but not even they could know what might happen. Destiny is dead. The Book of Endings burned. Nothing is written, and our future is in our hands.
I told them to break them. All of them. Every chain. Every slaver. Every slave freed. I said that we would sing our own songs, we would write our own stories. I did not do this without knowing what could happen. I did not have a moment of childish ideals. I did not do it to kill the Horned God, although I *did*, and it was *good*. I did it because the alternative was unthinkable. I did it to give them back their choices. All of them. All of their choices.
And I knew there would be *consequences*.
I am a child of Wolf, and she once showed me the empty sky, slowly filling up with stars; the consequences of choices only made possible by her choice. I sang her song to end the Horned God, and when it came time to decide how, I made the choice that was mine. Whatever that makes me, I won't have the choices, the *sacrifices*, of those I was with be twisted or blamed for this. I broke the world. What they did saved the chance for a better one.
Written By Lianne
Jan. 4, 2024, 11:08 p.m.(7/1/1021 AR)
I'm grateful to everyone who joined Fortunato and I on the beach to burn art, let go of things we no longer need and celebrate Mae Culler. I was truly moved by your support and participation.
I feel I've fulfilled a promise I made long ago, in spirit if not in letter.
Wherever you are, Mae, you're missed.
I feel I've fulfilled a promise I made long ago, in spirit if not in letter.
Wherever you are, Mae, you're missed.
Written By Lianne
Jan. 4, 2024, 10:49 p.m.(7/1/1021 AR)
What was done was absolutely necessary.
If we're to fret about the consequences of those particular actions, we ought to also reflect on our own inaction. We've known about these threats for years upon years, some of us, and we did not do enough to address them when they weren't quite so dire.
It is no one thing that has brought us to this point.
In the end, it hardly matters why we're here, only what we do now.
If we're to fret about the consequences of those particular actions, we ought to also reflect on our own inaction. We've known about these threats for years upon years, some of us, and we did not do enough to address them when they weren't quite so dire.
It is no one thing that has brought us to this point.
In the end, it hardly matters why we're here, only what we do now.
Written By Titus
Jan. 4, 2024, 7:21 p.m.(7/1/1021 AR)
Reflecting upon the talks of recently broken writs, it strikes me how history echoes in our current times. The saying, "the more things change, the more they stay the same," finds relevance here. The breaking of writs isn't a novel occurrence but a recurring theme through our history. From Dragons to Rex'alfar to Sylv'alfar and Nox'alfar and Humans and others, each breaking and binding over and over again. Just another swing on the pendulum from side to side. Even when Pyrite the Redeemed who used the novel approach that if one forgets what they are bound to, then they are free of it. But that created even more problems, didn't it.
Our past is important, traditions are important. They remind us of the cyclical nature of life we live in. The difference I suppose from the past and the now is the ink hasn't yet dried today.
It'll be interesting to see what strategies and ideas pop up to solve the current situation.
Our past is important, traditions are important. They remind us of the cyclical nature of life we live in. The difference I suppose from the past and the now is the ink hasn't yet dried today.
It'll be interesting to see what strategies and ideas pop up to solve the current situation.
Written By Raja
Jan. 4, 2024, 4:04 p.m.(7/1/1021 AR)
I find it interesting how our choices, even if they are well-intentioned can lead to such dire outcomes. After the fall of Legion, I felt victorious and elated. Then, as the true consequences of our decisions began to unveil themselves, it took me back.
Some people now nay-say what was done. I say, it still had to be done. The problem is, one can only act on what they know. We solved one problem to create another. Now, we work to solve the next problem.
And here I thought I was going to be able to relax and enjoy life for a bit.
Some people now nay-say what was done. I say, it still had to be done. The problem is, one can only act on what they know. We solved one problem to create another. Now, we work to solve the next problem.
And here I thought I was going to be able to relax and enjoy life for a bit.
Written By Medeia
Jan. 4, 2024, 8:26 a.m.(6/28/1021 AR)
Once, a man gave me a book. It was given to me as a way of better understanding the kind of person he, the author, was. Is? He's still alive, and perhaps he is still that same man, but our paths have diverged. The book contained a story of internal conflict, selfless acts. What he gave me, beyond insight into who he was, was the reminder that I can never know all there is to know about a person - no matter how many questions I ask, what scraps of letters or journals I uncover. There is room for surprise, and I should embrace the opportunity to be proven wrong.
Thank you for that gift.
Thank you for that gift.
Written By Avary
Jan. 4, 2024, 5:18 a.m.(6/28/1021 AR)
I received a letter this evening and I answered it. The question and the answer should each be recorded:
Question:
I heard it said that the Sentinel is the last to judge us before we go on to the Shining Lands, which given I came up in the Oathlands I've heard a hundred times before. But something about the phrasing this time caught me, and I wondered: is it only at death that the Sentinel judges, and leaves in the hands of the Faithful to judge what comes in the hours and years of life?
Answer:
It is a good question and a fair question. The simple answers are "no" and "I don't know."
That might do little to assuage your curiosity or the concern that brought the question. But it is the Truth.
For one, Sentinel would not Judge without Justice. If every soul were to arrive in the Shining Lands, what would be the purpose of this Judgement? Presuming none, I have to say that the oft-quoted phrase is not True. It's more likely an alteration of historical doctrine mixed with a Dominus' teaching.
The doctrine held that after death, the most virtuous could ascend to Elysia to sit by the Gods, the wicked to the abyss, and others to the shining lands to grant wisdom to those that follow. Dominus Kirsk stated once, "After death, we go by the will of the gods, and it is not our place to know." Certainly, some Judgement of who is wicked, who is virtuous, and who is other must take place and would potentially be the province of the Sentinel. But recent adoptions by the Faith of the Pantheon (most notably the Queen of Endings and Beginnings, reincarnation and the wheel) amend the earlier doctrine. So the answer is, "I don't know."
Had you asked a couple of years ago, or even a couple of months ago, I would have challenged the premise of your question and told you that the Gods are allegorical concepts. That judgment is based on the common mores rather than an entity that sits judging you. But as we have also come to realize, the Gods seem to be indeed real. So, again, I don't know.
But I do know that our worship of the Gods is accomplished through our actions. Actions that adhere to Their ideals do Them service. And this fact does not change with whether They are worshipped as abstract concepts or as higher beings in earnest. As the Sentinel is the most recondite deity among the laity (many struggle with relating Its doctrine to themselves - I am working on it), I have a lot of leeway with how I choose to interpret and preach Its tenets. And so here is how I choose to answer your query:
You ask, "is it only at death that the Setinel judges" and I say what does it matter? Judgment and moral discernment are every bit a part of you as any other ideal espoused by any of the Pantheon. Your conception of Truth, and your Integrity to it, are as integral to you as your Free Will. If one needs there to be an external and final arbiter to their life to tell them if they've done right from wrong, then their Integrity is lacking. How and when Sentinel judges you is a matter for debate. What is undeniable is that you will be with yourself and it is you who will ask yourself if you did right or wrong. And the state you find yourself in will be the answer.
You ask if it's left in the hands of the Faithful to judge what comes in the hours and years of life. If you mean by this others of the Faithful, outside of yourself, the answer is no. If you mean yourself as a Faithful, yes.
As we pray in the shrine, "Faceless one, Silent Watcher, and Judge...lead me from birth to death, from falsehood to truth. Lead me from despair to hope, from fear to trust. Lead me from hate to love, from war to peace..." The implication is clear: Sentinel is no final arbiter, but a constant guide. Sentinel reminds us that we must view our actions and those of others with Clarity, a mind toward Reason, and with Fairness. Sentinel reminds us to seek or establish Truth in favor of emotion, needs and wants. That we might use these to guide us toward a more favorable condition.
Justice is a final means of correcting a path that has veered off the social track. Where one is recklessly harmful and recalcitrant. When they refuse to yield in the harm they do to others around them in society, then Justice must act. But the Sentinel also has the aspects of Truth, Law, Order, Integrity, Clarity, Ethics, Even Handedness, and more. So it is up to you to use these as you /guide/ the hours and years of your life. And when it's over, it may be left to you to judge as well.
Question:
I heard it said that the Sentinel is the last to judge us before we go on to the Shining Lands, which given I came up in the Oathlands I've heard a hundred times before. But something about the phrasing this time caught me, and I wondered: is it only at death that the Sentinel judges, and leaves in the hands of the Faithful to judge what comes in the hours and years of life?
Answer:
It is a good question and a fair question. The simple answers are "no" and "I don't know."
That might do little to assuage your curiosity or the concern that brought the question. But it is the Truth.
For one, Sentinel would not Judge without Justice. If every soul were to arrive in the Shining Lands, what would be the purpose of this Judgement? Presuming none, I have to say that the oft-quoted phrase is not True. It's more likely an alteration of historical doctrine mixed with a Dominus' teaching.
The doctrine held that after death, the most virtuous could ascend to Elysia to sit by the Gods, the wicked to the abyss, and others to the shining lands to grant wisdom to those that follow. Dominus Kirsk stated once, "After death, we go by the will of the gods, and it is not our place to know." Certainly, some Judgement of who is wicked, who is virtuous, and who is other must take place and would potentially be the province of the Sentinel. But recent adoptions by the Faith of the Pantheon (most notably the Queen of Endings and Beginnings, reincarnation and the wheel) amend the earlier doctrine. So the answer is, "I don't know."
Had you asked a couple of years ago, or even a couple of months ago, I would have challenged the premise of your question and told you that the Gods are allegorical concepts. That judgment is based on the common mores rather than an entity that sits judging you. But as we have also come to realize, the Gods seem to be indeed real. So, again, I don't know.
But I do know that our worship of the Gods is accomplished through our actions. Actions that adhere to Their ideals do Them service. And this fact does not change with whether They are worshipped as abstract concepts or as higher beings in earnest. As the Sentinel is the most recondite deity among the laity (many struggle with relating Its doctrine to themselves - I am working on it), I have a lot of leeway with how I choose to interpret and preach Its tenets. And so here is how I choose to answer your query:
You ask, "is it only at death that the Setinel judges" and I say what does it matter? Judgment and moral discernment are every bit a part of you as any other ideal espoused by any of the Pantheon. Your conception of Truth, and your Integrity to it, are as integral to you as your Free Will. If one needs there to be an external and final arbiter to their life to tell them if they've done right from wrong, then their Integrity is lacking. How and when Sentinel judges you is a matter for debate. What is undeniable is that you will be with yourself and it is you who will ask yourself if you did right or wrong. And the state you find yourself in will be the answer.
You ask if it's left in the hands of the Faithful to judge what comes in the hours and years of life. If you mean by this others of the Faithful, outside of yourself, the answer is no. If you mean yourself as a Faithful, yes.
As we pray in the shrine, "Faceless one, Silent Watcher, and Judge...lead me from birth to death, from falsehood to truth. Lead me from despair to hope, from fear to trust. Lead me from hate to love, from war to peace..." The implication is clear: Sentinel is no final arbiter, but a constant guide. Sentinel reminds us that we must view our actions and those of others with Clarity, a mind toward Reason, and with Fairness. Sentinel reminds us to seek or establish Truth in favor of emotion, needs and wants. That we might use these to guide us toward a more favorable condition.
Justice is a final means of correcting a path that has veered off the social track. Where one is recklessly harmful and recalcitrant. When they refuse to yield in the harm they do to others around them in society, then Justice must act. But the Sentinel also has the aspects of Truth, Law, Order, Integrity, Clarity, Ethics, Even Handedness, and more. So it is up to you to use these as you /guide/ the hours and years of your life. And when it's over, it may be left to you to judge as well.
Written By Insaya
Jan. 3, 2024, 11:17 p.m.(6/27/1021 AR)
Some progress today. I cleared out the dead stubble from the window box outside facing the Green, and planted some sprouting hyacinth bulbs. This variety is supposedly a lurid red when it blooms. My copy of the Language of Flowers says that red petals almost always signify intensity of passions, but that in the red hyacinth it means teasing playfulness. I have also planted some lavender at the gate to honor the man whose offices I have made my home. He is avenged now; I pray for his spirit and all those others taken before their time to be at rest until they come again amongst us, by the Queen of Ending's grace.
I am having some difficulty settling into quiet work amongst my scribblings after all I saw and experienced at the battle. I am easily distracted these days. There is so much to do. I know that not all is well in the world, however for the first time in a long time I feel hopeful at the world's renewal, and believe that goodness can come out of suffering, like flowers from a neglected window box.
I am having some difficulty settling into quiet work amongst my scribblings after all I saw and experienced at the battle. I am easily distracted these days. There is so much to do. I know that not all is well in the world, however for the first time in a long time I feel hopeful at the world's renewal, and believe that goodness can come out of suffering, like flowers from a neglected window box.
Written By Sen'azala
Jan. 3, 2024, 10:59 p.m.(6/27/1021 AR)
Relationship Note on Titus
I knew.
Written By Titus
Jan. 3, 2024, 9:15 p.m.(6/27/1021 AR)
Many concerning issues, each capable of spilling out a terrible ending to everything:
- The Marin’alfar have been consumed.
- The Undying Empire dies.
- Cardia’s heart breaks.
- The Dune Kingdoms bleed.
- The Compact hangs in a precarious balance, ready to tip. When the Forgetful begin to remember, will the ideals they cling to feed and keep them?
- Choices removed and writs broken. Masters killed and others rise up to become what they replace.
- Magic revealed and yet people begin to lose who they are.
- The old being thrown out while clinging to the new. But there's no future without a past, there's no now without the journey of choices that had us arrive to today.
- Birds of a feather stick together, and the crows are going north. And in the night, the maw of darkness is growing as it consumes many brilliant points of light.
- A new constellation shining prominently, a giant sword upwards through a crown.
Change, just not in the way you thought it would be. Because how could you? Just like always.
- The Marin’alfar have been consumed.
- The Undying Empire dies.
- Cardia’s heart breaks.
- The Dune Kingdoms bleed.
- The Compact hangs in a precarious balance, ready to tip. When the Forgetful begin to remember, will the ideals they cling to feed and keep them?
- Choices removed and writs broken. Masters killed and others rise up to become what they replace.
- Magic revealed and yet people begin to lose who they are.
- The old being thrown out while clinging to the new. But there's no future without a past, there's no now without the journey of choices that had us arrive to today.
- Birds of a feather stick together, and the crows are going north. And in the night, the maw of darkness is growing as it consumes many brilliant points of light.
- A new constellation shining prominently, a giant sword upwards through a crown.
Change, just not in the way you thought it would be. Because how could you? Just like always.
Written By Aelgar
Jan. 3, 2024, 1:04 p.m.(6/26/1021 AR)
I am planning some fieldwork outside Arx with an interdisciplinary team from various Faith and secular groups. While I will probably be more support than front-line in the event of bandit encounters or other enemy conflicts, I will still appreciate the exercise and the chance to refine some field skills.
Written By Sydney
Jan. 3, 2024, 12:07 p.m.(6/26/1021 AR)
I can scarcely recognize the world around me, of late. So often I prayed for change, so often I gnashed my teeth at the stagnation of it all. Arvum is awash now in events that can no longer be easily denied, and to that end I do believe I got my wish, in a twisted sort of way.
My family, such as it is, is forever changed.
My name, such as it is, is forever changed.
This Dream, such as it is, is forever changed.
At times, I find myself wishing that I could go back to before this all was so, but to do that would be to deny all the good that has come as well. Change is never a quantifiable thing - what was good for me may have been disastrous for others. What was gutting to me may have set off a series of events that bring joy to an unknowable amount of people. Knowing that this is true, of course, doesn't mean that I'm always able to accept this. There will always be nights when, staring into the darkness, I'll wonder what it was all for. There will be despair, and there will be tears. My heart is not so hardened yet that I am utterly numb to self-doubt.
Strength is accepting those realities by daylight, and moving forward. Even a single step.
Time is in motion, after all, even if one chooses to stand still.
My family, such as it is, is forever changed.
My name, such as it is, is forever changed.
This Dream, such as it is, is forever changed.
At times, I find myself wishing that I could go back to before this all was so, but to do that would be to deny all the good that has come as well. Change is never a quantifiable thing - what was good for me may have been disastrous for others. What was gutting to me may have set off a series of events that bring joy to an unknowable amount of people. Knowing that this is true, of course, doesn't mean that I'm always able to accept this. There will always be nights when, staring into the darkness, I'll wonder what it was all for. There will be despair, and there will be tears. My heart is not so hardened yet that I am utterly numb to self-doubt.
Strength is accepting those realities by daylight, and moving forward. Even a single step.
Time is in motion, after all, even if one chooses to stand still.
Written By Denica
Jan. 3, 2024, 1:33 a.m.(6/25/1021 AR)
I made it through the storm only to find the hurricane inside of me.
Written By Medeia
Jan. 2, 2024, 6:28 p.m.(6/25/1021 AR)
It had been suggested that my medicinal skill would make me a candidate for the Mercies, but my heart had already drawn me to the service of the Mother of Beginnings as a Harlequin. I pursued membership with the Physicians Guild, instead, hoping for opportunities to continue to expand my knowledge and capability beyond midwifery and the standard care and keeping of people with sniffles and rashes and farming injuries. The experience I already had saw me rising up within the ranks quickly, though.
I'd set a meeting with the then-guildmistress, the late Marquessa-consort Reigna Keaton, to discuss the test that would be required of me for advancement. It was a gorgeous day. A quiet day, even, at the hospital. I hadn't expected to do the test; I was wearing a pretty dress with plans to go socializing after the meeting. But she had the time and I had the moxie - I've never been one to let what I was wearing stand in the way of providing needed care.
We were on the second patient when everything turned upside down. Screaming in the streets filtered in, and soon after, someone ran in claiming threats had been made against the dominus. Reigna and I grabbed bags of supplies and ran outside - I followed her through the chaos, past the shrines, across the Sovereign, and into the fray of people outside the barricaded Queensrest Inn. There were injuries to attend while others tried to get in. I was overwhelmed by the sounds, the jostling. It was my first time using my field medic training in a battlefield situation.
I hoped we wouldn't find what we did. But everyone knows this part of the story: Orazio Saik, Dominus of the Faith of the Pantheon, my beloved uncle, had been murdered.
The memories get confusing, coming in flashes and layers - like I'm remembering three things at once. People rushing up the stairs, a necklace, a flicker of light, blood under my knees, Aleksei Morgan. (I've never been able to separate Aleksei from that moment in my memory, and that's unfair. He genuinely seems to deserve a better moment to be associated with. I think there is a chance one will replace it.) All I could think was that I need to undo this, fix it, make it better. Do everything right.
I did none of those things. Not that it was within my power to. In truth? Looking back? I did a lot of things wrong. In my grief, I hurt people. And I continued to hurt people for a long time, after. My heart had been turned toward revenge.
It would take years for me to become a different sort of mercy.
I'd set a meeting with the then-guildmistress, the late Marquessa-consort Reigna Keaton, to discuss the test that would be required of me for advancement. It was a gorgeous day. A quiet day, even, at the hospital. I hadn't expected to do the test; I was wearing a pretty dress with plans to go socializing after the meeting. But she had the time and I had the moxie - I've never been one to let what I was wearing stand in the way of providing needed care.
We were on the second patient when everything turned upside down. Screaming in the streets filtered in, and soon after, someone ran in claiming threats had been made against the dominus. Reigna and I grabbed bags of supplies and ran outside - I followed her through the chaos, past the shrines, across the Sovereign, and into the fray of people outside the barricaded Queensrest Inn. There were injuries to attend while others tried to get in. I was overwhelmed by the sounds, the jostling. It was my first time using my field medic training in a battlefield situation.
I hoped we wouldn't find what we did. But everyone knows this part of the story: Orazio Saik, Dominus of the Faith of the Pantheon, my beloved uncle, had been murdered.
The memories get confusing, coming in flashes and layers - like I'm remembering three things at once. People rushing up the stairs, a necklace, a flicker of light, blood under my knees, Aleksei Morgan. (I've never been able to separate Aleksei from that moment in my memory, and that's unfair. He genuinely seems to deserve a better moment to be associated with. I think there is a chance one will replace it.) All I could think was that I need to undo this, fix it, make it better. Do everything right.
I did none of those things. Not that it was within my power to. In truth? Looking back? I did a lot of things wrong. In my grief, I hurt people. And I continued to hurt people for a long time, after. My heart had been turned toward revenge.
It would take years for me to become a different sort of mercy.
Written By Rosalind
Jan. 2, 2024, 4:23 p.m.(6/25/1021 AR)
So this is what peace feels like. What being unafraid feels like. I don't even know where to start or what to say...
But it's a new beginning for me in more ways than one. And I can't even begin to say thank my friends and family for never leaving me in the worst of days. Loving them isn't enough.
But it's a new beginning for me in more ways than one. And I can't even begin to say thank my friends and family for never leaving me in the worst of days. Loving them isn't enough.
Written By Hadrian
Jan. 2, 2024, 2:52 p.m.(6/24/1021 AR)
Just checked Damianos. The mark is still there. The future is bright indeed.
Written By Duarte
Jan. 2, 2024, 6:57 a.m.(6/24/1021 AR)
Relationship Note on Oliver
Journal
Today I break the sequence of my narrative lest I forget and am remiss to immortalize to the white journals the deep appreciation I have for his talents and spirit.
Some months after the grand opening of Casino Crossroads, I commissioned Oliver Arterius, husband of Guildmaster Joscelin Arterius, to create two fine sculptures for the property.
Each was to stand as a shining symbol to the Gods they represented.
The first, a sculpture of wood, vellum, glass, ribbon and silk - 10 feet tall - depicting the sigil of Vellichor, our God of history and wisdom.
The second was of limestone, gold flaked, diamond dust and glitter - standing an impressive seven feet in height - the symbol of our Goddess of charity and civilization, Gild.
Both works stood upon the casino grounds for some years before I donated each to the Faith of the Pantheon, to stand in the shrines of the Gods they meant to honor. Indeed, the shrines are a more fitting home for these masterworks.
Oliver Arterius was a good man. He was a genius. Charitable and gregarious. His history and story of exiting thralldom to become a master in his chosen field and crafting a life that was truly his is one to be read and studied for inspiration. An unbroken spirit was he. To this day, I assert - most likely - remains unbroken.
And so, lest these are lost to time, I record them here in some detail.
*** Detailed sketches of Oliver Arterius's sculptures follow ***
a brilliantly shining sculpture of the sigil of Gild
,~xxXxx~,~xxxXxx~,~xxXXxx~,~xxOxAxx~,~xxXXxx~,~xxXxxx~,~xxXxx~,
Made from a base of hard and durable limestone, this
sculpture stands an impressive seven feet in height, a
reverent representation of the sigil of the Goddess Gild. The
sculpture is of two coins formed independently of one another.
The first coin is short and stout, the limestone painted a
stunning gold, the paints soaking through the textured stone
so that the colour is bright and full of depth. All around
the round edge of the coin is a trail of crushed gold-tinted
gemstones, giving the coin a natural glitter with or
without a source of light. The golden coin leans against a
taller, wider coin painted with several thick coats of silver.
Much like the gold coin, the rounded edges are rolled in
glistening diamond dust that casts a glistening luster across
the coin, bringing out the metallic colour of the paint.
Darker gray paint is used to create huge block lettering
along the backside of the silver coin:
IN CELEBRATION OF
PROSPERITY & CHARITY
,~xxXxx~,~xxxXxx~,~xxXXxx~,~xxOxAxx~,~xxXXxx~,~xxXxxx~,~xxXxx~,
an impressively large sculpture of the sigil of Vellichor
,~xxXxx~,~xxxXxx~,~xxXXxx~,~xxOxAxx~,~xxXXxx~,~xxXxxx~,~xxXxx~,
Made from strong and sturdy oak, this sculpture is impressive
in both width and height; at its tallest point, the sigil
rises to nearly ten feet. Masterfully carved into the shape
of a large tome, the wood has been weathered to give the book
an ancient, rippling sort of appearance. The tome lies open,
with actual thickly layered vellum spread upon the wood and
then overlayed with thin, clear glass for protection. Across
the vellum is inked writing in bold, blocky letters:
MAY WISDOM NOT GIVE WAY TO GREED
Laying above the words is an intricately carved feather
quill with a sharp point, delicately painted a rich and
vibrant crimson. Great time and attention to detail has been
taken to bring realism to the quill, the feathers subtly worn
to suggest use. Just beyond the tome are two raised
scrolls which bring true height to the sculpture, the wood
painted a yellowish cream to suggest age. The scrolls are
crossed and wrapped in thick ribbons sewn from navy blue
silk, the ribbon ends worn and frayed.
,~xxXxx~,~xxxXxx~,~xxXXxx~,~xxOxAxx~,~xxXXxx~,~xxXxxx~,~xxXxx~,
Today I break the sequence of my narrative lest I forget and am remiss to immortalize to the white journals the deep appreciation I have for his talents and spirit.
Some months after the grand opening of Casino Crossroads, I commissioned Oliver Arterius, husband of Guildmaster Joscelin Arterius, to create two fine sculptures for the property.
Each was to stand as a shining symbol to the Gods they represented.
The first, a sculpture of wood, vellum, glass, ribbon and silk - 10 feet tall - depicting the sigil of Vellichor, our God of history and wisdom.
The second was of limestone, gold flaked, diamond dust and glitter - standing an impressive seven feet in height - the symbol of our Goddess of charity and civilization, Gild.
Both works stood upon the casino grounds for some years before I donated each to the Faith of the Pantheon, to stand in the shrines of the Gods they meant to honor. Indeed, the shrines are a more fitting home for these masterworks.
Oliver Arterius was a good man. He was a genius. Charitable and gregarious. His history and story of exiting thralldom to become a master in his chosen field and crafting a life that was truly his is one to be read and studied for inspiration. An unbroken spirit was he. To this day, I assert - most likely - remains unbroken.
And so, lest these are lost to time, I record them here in some detail.
*** Detailed sketches of Oliver Arterius's sculptures follow ***
a brilliantly shining sculpture of the sigil of Gild
,~xxXxx~,~xxxXxx~,~xxXXxx~,~xxOxAxx~,~xxXXxx~,~xxXxxx~,~xxXxx~,
Made from a base of hard and durable limestone, this
sculpture stands an impressive seven feet in height, a
reverent representation of the sigil of the Goddess Gild. The
sculpture is of two coins formed independently of one another.
The first coin is short and stout, the limestone painted a
stunning gold, the paints soaking through the textured stone
so that the colour is bright and full of depth. All around
the round edge of the coin is a trail of crushed gold-tinted
gemstones, giving the coin a natural glitter with or
without a source of light. The golden coin leans against a
taller, wider coin painted with several thick coats of silver.
Much like the gold coin, the rounded edges are rolled in
glistening diamond dust that casts a glistening luster across
the coin, bringing out the metallic colour of the paint.
Darker gray paint is used to create huge block lettering
along the backside of the silver coin:
IN CELEBRATION OF
PROSPERITY & CHARITY
,~xxXxx~,~xxxXxx~,~xxXXxx~,~xxOxAxx~,~xxXXxx~,~xxXxxx~,~xxXxx~,
an impressively large sculpture of the sigil of Vellichor
,~xxXxx~,~xxxXxx~,~xxXXxx~,~xxOxAxx~,~xxXXxx~,~xxXxxx~,~xxXxx~,
Made from strong and sturdy oak, this sculpture is impressive
in both width and height; at its tallest point, the sigil
rises to nearly ten feet. Masterfully carved into the shape
of a large tome, the wood has been weathered to give the book
an ancient, rippling sort of appearance. The tome lies open,
with actual thickly layered vellum spread upon the wood and
then overlayed with thin, clear glass for protection. Across
the vellum is inked writing in bold, blocky letters:
MAY WISDOM NOT GIVE WAY TO GREED
Laying above the words is an intricately carved feather
quill with a sharp point, delicately painted a rich and
vibrant crimson. Great time and attention to detail has been
taken to bring realism to the quill, the feathers subtly worn
to suggest use. Just beyond the tome are two raised
scrolls which bring true height to the sculpture, the wood
painted a yellowish cream to suggest age. The scrolls are
crossed and wrapped in thick ribbons sewn from navy blue
silk, the ribbon ends worn and frayed.
,~xxXxx~,~xxxXxx~,~xxXXxx~,~xxOxAxx~,~xxXXxx~,~xxXxxx~,~xxXxx~,
Written By Duarte
Jan. 1, 2024, 4:54 p.m.(6/23/1021 AR)
*Adhered to this page is a well loved scrap of paper stamped with the symbol of the Faith of the Pantheon*
Vellichor, in your enlightened name I, Bianca, pray:
Enlarge Duarte Amedeo's understanding of this world; Let him see it.
Steady him when he stands before the unknown; Let him know it.
Edify his mind, his heart, his wits; Let him remember it.
May he bend his knee and receive your truth;
Open his ears and receive your counsel;
Open his eyes and receive your words.
May he open his heart and receive your wisdom.
I beseech you, Vellichor, protect him with your insight.
Vellichor, in your enlightened name I, Bianca, pray:
Enlarge Duarte Amedeo's understanding of this world; Let him see it.
Steady him when he stands before the unknown; Let him know it.
Edify his mind, his heart, his wits; Let him remember it.
May he bend his knee and receive your truth;
Open his ears and receive your counsel;
Open his eyes and receive your words.
May he open his heart and receive your wisdom.
I beseech you, Vellichor, protect him with your insight.
Please note that the scholars may take some time preparing your journal for others to read.