Written By Alexis
Dec. 31, 2017, 5:46 p.m.(11/16/1007 AR)
Relationship Note on Aislin
We met a few times, and we spoke of Lady Niamh most, when we did met.
Lady Aislin Ashford was as kind and generous a soul as you could ever hope for, and I pray to the gods that her journey this time is not yet at an end. That the Queen is not yet taking her to the Wheel. That she'll return to us with ever more amazing tales.
Be safe, Lady Aislin. Whereever you may be.
Lady Aislin Ashford was as kind and generous a soul as you could ever hope for, and I pray to the gods that her journey this time is not yet at an end. That the Queen is not yet taking her to the Wheel. That she'll return to us with ever more amazing tales.
Be safe, Lady Aislin. Whereever you may be.
Written By Kael
Dec. 31, 2017, 5:44 p.m.(11/16/1007 AR)
Relationship Note on Veronica
Welcome to Arx, Lady Veronica Keaton.
I do not know you well, but you are blood and you are kin. So too are you the sword of Oakhaven. Now, more than ever, we need you in our midst.
There are a great many things to catch you up on. Indeed, welcome.
I do not know you well, but you are blood and you are kin. So too are you the sword of Oakhaven. Now, more than ever, we need you in our midst.
There are a great many things to catch you up on. Indeed, welcome.
Written By Laric
Dec. 31, 2017, 5:29 p.m.(11/16/1007 AR)
Relationship Note on Shard
If necessary. The vast majority of those prodigals interviewed by the Inquisition recently were in and out within twenty minutes, as most were able to prove they were, in fact, citizens quickly and painlessly. I will not insult your intelligence by insinuating that should alleviate the general discomfort that comes with being escorted to the House of Questions, only to illustrate these interviews only became grueling interrogations when the culprits were found.
There are circumstances that make it unlikely we would have to resort to such a strategy in your example that I believe you are aware of, but that would be splitting hairs.
The Inquisition has plans to ensure it will not be necessary in the future, but that is all I will write on the matter tonight.
There are circumstances that make it unlikely we would have to resort to such a strategy in your example that I believe you are aware of, but that would be splitting hairs.
The Inquisition has plans to ensure it will not be necessary in the future, but that is all I will write on the matter tonight.
Written By Margot
Dec. 31, 2017, 5:10 p.m.(11/16/1007 AR)
Now that I own my own body again, it is time to put back on the armour and pick up the axe.
Written By Shard
Dec. 31, 2017, 5:05 p.m.(11/16/1007 AR)
Relationship Note on Laric
So, in essence, when the Horned One's people kill someone in the city, prodigals from forest or Northern tribes can expect the same.
Written By Joscelin
Dec. 31, 2017, 4:57 p.m.(11/16/1007 AR)
When I worry, I work. Which, as most know, I work all the time. That would lead many to believe I spend a lot of my time not working, worrying.
They aren't wrong.
Most of my finer works are products of abject anxiety. You should have seen the pieces I made when Ianthe first left when she was barely the age of majority, or my first jewelry pieces were to combat the fears of my childhood, when my father was deployed for combat along with my aunt.
So I expect, in the days, weeks, months to come, I'll make fantastic pieces and no way to preserve them. To create and make in the face of all this chaos and fear, the war sitting on the horizon like a carrion eater waiting for the end, feels rather fitting for me. I wish I could do more for the city, and the people. In fact, anyone reading this has ideas about that, please let me know. I'd rather not sit on the walls fretting while others die for the safety of those I care for, or myself.
They aren't wrong.
Most of my finer works are products of abject anxiety. You should have seen the pieces I made when Ianthe first left when she was barely the age of majority, or my first jewelry pieces were to combat the fears of my childhood, when my father was deployed for combat along with my aunt.
So I expect, in the days, weeks, months to come, I'll make fantastic pieces and no way to preserve them. To create and make in the face of all this chaos and fear, the war sitting on the horizon like a carrion eater waiting for the end, feels rather fitting for me. I wish I could do more for the city, and the people. In fact, anyone reading this has ideas about that, please let me know. I'd rather not sit on the walls fretting while others die for the safety of those I care for, or myself.
Written By Laric
Dec. 31, 2017, 4:53 p.m.(11/16/1007 AR)
There is a reason the Inquisition has maintained the Sentinel's faceless visor as its insignia centuries after its secularization. Justice, by Their standard, is not subjective. Its ideal is without expression, neither friendly nor wrathful. Justice, along with truth, is often harsh, unyielding and uncomfortable. It can be upsetting. Anyone in this world is capable of anything, no matter what face they wear. This is a fact I demand my Inquisitors and Confessors keep in mind in the course of their work. That is the ideal the Inquisition I lead strives to embody. When the Inquisition launches an official inquest, it is rarely to 'prove' a theory, guilt or innocence. It is to learn the truth and act upon it, which I must reiterate, is often harsh and uncomfortable.
To those prodigals who feel unfairly and personally impacted by the recent shakedown, you have my personal and sincere apologies for that, and that alone. The Inquisition did what was necessary to root out the Compact's enemies. Killian Ashford and Zhayla of Old Oak were not the only casualties. The number of murders they are responsible for are numbered in the dozens, not single digits, and they had grave potential for causing further anarchy. Now their 'king' moves against the Compact openly and it is all the more imperative Arx is free of those beholden to him.
To those prodigals who feel unfairly and personally impacted by the recent shakedown, you have my personal and sincere apologies for that, and that alone. The Inquisition did what was necessary to root out the Compact's enemies. Killian Ashford and Zhayla of Old Oak were not the only casualties. The number of murders they are responsible for are numbered in the dozens, not single digits, and they had grave potential for causing further anarchy. Now their 'king' moves against the Compact openly and it is all the more imperative Arx is free of those beholden to him.
Written By Shard
Dec. 31, 2017, 3:46 p.m.(11/16/1007 AR)
There's...something to be said about a speech about how becoming a prodigal is a sacred tradition and how the Inquisition won't look kindly on those who mistreat prodigals for no reason right after they themselves have gone tearing throw the city's prodigal population with the help of the Iron Guard and some mercenaries, hauling off former islanders for questioning simply for being former islanders.
If the only reason you need to do that is 'a Herald has Abandoned cult members', are we supposed to feel fucking comforted? Maybe we can feel as comforted as we do valued for the fact that we're called prodigals in the first place.
If the only reason you need to do that is 'a Herald has Abandoned cult members', are we supposed to feel fucking comforted? Maybe we can feel as comforted as we do valued for the fact that we're called prodigals in the first place.
Written By Luis
Dec. 31, 2017, 3:37 p.m.(11/16/1007 AR)
Relationship Note on Ariella
Ah, dark haired twin, you are back and there is no end to your tales of adventure. I do believe there will be several late nights of simply hearing all that has gone on in your absence, though I am quite pleased with your ready willingness to help us properly plan for... events as it were at our dear sister's coming wedding and reception. The committee for shenanigans has been growing rapidly and I know you will be welcomed with your brilliant bawdiness and wit.
Written By Luis
Dec. 31, 2017, 3:26 p.m.(11/16/1007 AR)
With the arrival of more family, I find myself more deeply intrigued by the current events within the city. It would seem that there is a draw to bring those who were away back to Arx, and those whom we have trusted to guide us for so long are slowly disappearing, or are drawn away to circumstances outside of the city. Each event on its own is not something to be alarmed about, but there are patterns, patterns in the greater picture and these must be examined for their significance.
Written By Madeleine
Dec. 31, 2017, 3:18 p.m.(11/16/1007 AR)
Many have heard the stories and dreadful news of the ships and storms that ravage our seas. I will not mince words nor try to honey-coat the truth. We are at war with our enemy, an ancient king of old who sold his soul for power and betrayed all life; not just humanity but the children of the sea and the creatures which swim in her. Even now he attacks us, and he attacks the Goddess Mangata who, through her deep love and sacrifice, holds her enemies at bay to stem the tide of their attacks. Without her ceaseless vigil, we would be long since wiped away by the beast of the depths.
Now it is our turn - let us be the lighthouse which will guide the ships away from the rocky shores. Let us be the ray of light that pierces the storm. Let us the guiding star to light our way home. Offer your prayer, your love, your light. Let our tears be the clensing rain. Let our voices be the winds which clear the storm from the sky. From the holy halls of Sanctum to the good folk of the Mourning Isles who dwell close to the Goddess forevermore - let your voices and prayers raise. Write your words on the sand so they may be taken into the sea. Speak your words on the wind so they may be carried by the breeze. Sing your songs, lift up your hearts, and unite as one - for not every man or woman can sail the seas nor carry a spear or sword; but every man, woman, child, and creature of the world can offer prayer and love. When the ships sail to fight our foes, you can send your prayer with them and strengthen the Goddess with our support. Give what help you can with your body, lend what help you can with your spirit. Peace and love be with you all, knowing our Goddess gives her freely.
Now it is our turn - let us be the lighthouse which will guide the ships away from the rocky shores. Let us be the ray of light that pierces the storm. Let us the guiding star to light our way home. Offer your prayer, your love, your light. Let our tears be the clensing rain. Let our voices be the winds which clear the storm from the sky. From the holy halls of Sanctum to the good folk of the Mourning Isles who dwell close to the Goddess forevermore - let your voices and prayers raise. Write your words on the sand so they may be taken into the sea. Speak your words on the wind so they may be carried by the breeze. Sing your songs, lift up your hearts, and unite as one - for not every man or woman can sail the seas nor carry a spear or sword; but every man, woman, child, and creature of the world can offer prayer and love. When the ships sail to fight our foes, you can send your prayer with them and strengthen the Goddess with our support. Give what help you can with your body, lend what help you can with your spirit. Peace and love be with you all, knowing our Goddess gives her freely.
Written By Aerandir
Dec. 31, 2017, 1:30 p.m.(11/15/1007 AR)
Standing atop a nameless hill and looking out over the pathway that leads along the Grey River, my thoughts turn to pondering how much of the land is covered by road. What worlds are to be seen beyond the southern reaches? To which ones might I travel, and will I find any peace in them? And indeed, is there any wisdom in the attempt? Such questions are not easily answered. What right have I to ask them?
I watch caravans roll down the roads towards destinations old and new, deepening the tracks that connect one life to another. The very existence of these roads is what bridges the lives of strangers, and connects one human to another. Too well-acquainted am I in recent memory with the dangers that lurk in the regions that lie beyond the sight of the roads, and too frequently do such dangers dare to make an appearance upon them. These days I am turning my blade to protecting these caravans against those dangers, rather than becoming that danger myself - would that I could say I was never such a danger, but there is folly to be found in reckless youth. But the past is written, and it is as enduring and unchangeable as the Mourning Isles that I have left in my wake, in the east.
The afternoon rests heavy on my shoulders, and the heat of the sun slips in through my gear and hardens the leather soles of my boots as I tread them to the ground. The birds of the coast burst from the tops of the trees like the memories of autumn. Far above the clouds, the great birds from the mountains circle in preparation for the intensifying winter. For now, the leaves are scarce and trees barren and summer is long gone and vacant, the land showing no hurried signs of moving forth into what shall undoubtedly be an even darker season. And I remain restless; unable to put my feet to any trod of the earth and let them hold there. The sun is disorientating whenever it does make its appearance, and beneath its blurry gaze the paths that lie before me are unclear.
Today I do not pledge Steadfast to the caravan I see pass beneath me from the hill. I could not bear the company.
I watch caravans roll down the roads towards destinations old and new, deepening the tracks that connect one life to another. The very existence of these roads is what bridges the lives of strangers, and connects one human to another. Too well-acquainted am I in recent memory with the dangers that lurk in the regions that lie beyond the sight of the roads, and too frequently do such dangers dare to make an appearance upon them. These days I am turning my blade to protecting these caravans against those dangers, rather than becoming that danger myself - would that I could say I was never such a danger, but there is folly to be found in reckless youth. But the past is written, and it is as enduring and unchangeable as the Mourning Isles that I have left in my wake, in the east.
The afternoon rests heavy on my shoulders, and the heat of the sun slips in through my gear and hardens the leather soles of my boots as I tread them to the ground. The birds of the coast burst from the tops of the trees like the memories of autumn. Far above the clouds, the great birds from the mountains circle in preparation for the intensifying winter. For now, the leaves are scarce and trees barren and summer is long gone and vacant, the land showing no hurried signs of moving forth into what shall undoubtedly be an even darker season. And I remain restless; unable to put my feet to any trod of the earth and let them hold there. The sun is disorientating whenever it does make its appearance, and beneath its blurry gaze the paths that lie before me are unclear.
Today I do not pledge Steadfast to the caravan I see pass beneath me from the hill. I could not bear the company.
Written By Calypso
Dec. 31, 2017, 12:50 p.m.(11/15/1007 AR)
I have a difficult choice to make this week. A decision will be made before I go home to Southport. Know this, any who may be reading, I did everything and made every choice with the safety and well being of my people and the Compact in mind. The path may not always be clear, but we must always step forward.
Neither by chance, nor by fate.
Neither by chance, nor by fate.
Written By Eirene
Dec. 31, 2017, 12:49 p.m.(11/15/1007 AR)
Relationship Note on Aislin
Also - Aislin is missing. Which is a damn shame because I never got to sit down and discuss bullshit with her about everything. Just one more supernatural threat to kill. Or try to kill. I don't think we can kill them, just put them back into bed with a spanking and no dessert for 500 years.
Written By Eirene
Dec. 31, 2017, 12:48 p.m.(11/15/1007 AR)
I've been debating the merits of sexual revenge lately but I'm too good a person for that.
I saw that smirk, Scholar. Don't laugh. I have morals. Lycene morals but morals.
Mostly I'm too smart to be thinking with my genitalia.
I saw that smirk, Scholar. Don't laugh. I have morals. Lycene morals but morals.
Mostly I'm too smart to be thinking with my genitalia.
Written By Calypso
Dec. 31, 2017, 12:41 p.m.(11/15/1007 AR)
The Ambassador Salon has a very extensive wine list and a surprisingly skilled chef. I’ve grown rather fond of it’s delights.
Written By Magpie
Dec. 31, 2017, 11:25 a.m.(11/15/1007 AR)
Want to hear what's not a gross overstatement? The size of a certain Inquisitor's pile of shit. Gross? Yes. Overstatement? Not so much.
Let me draw a picture for you.
Normal shit -> .
Gross oversized shit -> Oo8Oo... (looks kind of diseased, doesn't it?)
Let me draw a picture for you.
Normal shit -> .
Gross oversized shit -> Oo8Oo... (looks kind of diseased, doesn't it?)
Written By Aerandir
Dec. 31, 2017, 10:53 a.m.(11/15/1007 AR)
11-15-1007 AR, late evening, in the comfy confines of my abode.
The hearsay surrounding otherworldly threats does not appear to have been exaggerated, much to my chagrin. My source is gentry, a woman belonging to the higher echelons of society. Initially, I was assured that I was being played for a fool, that perhaps this was some manner of local tradition or simply a form of entertainment for the pair whose company I basked in, but it seems such a trivial conclusion to the matter at hand was not to be.
I know not how to approach this, nor what to think of all that I have learned in the span of a singular day. I expected cultural shock and oddities aplenty, but not quite this. I am still not utterly convinced of the truth of the matter, but men have died; men of blue blood, no less - and of high standing. Fables do not slay men; but men disguised as such may; it is still nonetheless possible that this is an intricate ploy carried out by an opposing household, perhaps even several of them. If so, it has spread like wildfire, three fronts to be, I am told.
It is far too early for such speculation all the same, and dwelling upon it does me little good. A leisurely stroll and a drink will do me good.
The hearsay surrounding otherworldly threats does not appear to have been exaggerated, much to my chagrin. My source is gentry, a woman belonging to the higher echelons of society. Initially, I was assured that I was being played for a fool, that perhaps this was some manner of local tradition or simply a form of entertainment for the pair whose company I basked in, but it seems such a trivial conclusion to the matter at hand was not to be.
I know not how to approach this, nor what to think of all that I have learned in the span of a singular day. I expected cultural shock and oddities aplenty, but not quite this. I am still not utterly convinced of the truth of the matter, but men have died; men of blue blood, no less - and of high standing. Fables do not slay men; but men disguised as such may; it is still nonetheless possible that this is an intricate ploy carried out by an opposing household, perhaps even several of them. If so, it has spread like wildfire, three fronts to be, I am told.
It is far too early for such speculation all the same, and dwelling upon it does me little good. A leisurely stroll and a drink will do me good.
Written By Harald
Dec. 31, 2017, 10:46 a.m.(11/15/1007 AR)
It begins at long last: the war that will make our ancestors jealous
Let this be known: there is no Pirate King coming against us, there is a fallen admiral who forsook all claims of true kingship in defeat and surrender long years ago.
The Storm will be great and terrible, much blood will spill. May the storm make us stronger, may valor bring us victory, and never fear, for fear is the guardian of hate.
Let this be known: there is no Pirate King coming against us, there is a fallen admiral who forsook all claims of true kingship in defeat and surrender long years ago.
The Storm will be great and terrible, much blood will spill. May the storm make us stronger, may valor bring us victory, and never fear, for fear is the guardian of hate.
Written By Mason
Dec. 31, 2017, 10:40 a.m.(11/15/1007 AR)
Ajh'on... I cannot take much more of this. Travel on a boat by sea will not keep me from searching for her.
Please note that the scholars may take some time preparing your journal for others to read.