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 Aislin
Dec. 25, 2017, 5:41 p.m.(11/4/1007 AR)
Relationship Note on Killian
Grief is a strange thing. It can dull thoughts -- lead to hasty words and angry recrimination -- or sharpen them to new clarity.
I still don't know which my grief has done to me. I just know that it's made it hard to find the words to put down in this journal.
I just know that my cousin Killian was like a little brother to me.
When he returned to our family after his time wandering Arvum, we became far closer than we ever had when we were younger. The difference in our ages that put us so far apart when he was young seemed unimportant when we were both grown. He was eager to trade tales of our adventures, he joined my Society of Explorers, he aided me in my investigations. We even finally got to travel together on an expedition -- one that will always stick with me.
And he listened, when I needed to talk about a personal crisis of identity.
The truth is, I selfishly never thought I'd outlive him. We both have -- both /had/ -- the Ashford drive to get out and /do/ things, to see the world. We both take risks, gods know. But Killian was by far the better fighter -- the one who wore solid armor, the rock on whom others can depend. I rely on speed, dexterity, and the fact that better than half of the things that try to kill me don't want to bother following me up a tree.
I always sort of half-assumed that if one of us died, it would be me going missing in the field on one of my expeditions. I never considered that I might outlive him. I never thought I'd have to grieve him.
And now he's gone. There's a hole in my family -- in /me/ -- where he used to be, an emptiness, and I don't know how to fill it. You're fiercely missed already, little brother, by me -- and by all those who knew and loved you.
And I hope whatever your next trip around the wheel brings, you keep that sense of adventure in your soul.
I still don't know which my grief has done to me. I just know that it's made it hard to find the words to put down in this journal.
I just know that my cousin Killian was like a little brother to me.
When he returned to our family after his time wandering Arvum, we became far closer than we ever had when we were younger. The difference in our ages that put us so far apart when he was young seemed unimportant when we were both grown. He was eager to trade tales of our adventures, he joined my Society of Explorers, he aided me in my investigations. We even finally got to travel together on an expedition -- one that will always stick with me.
And he listened, when I needed to talk about a personal crisis of identity.
The truth is, I selfishly never thought I'd outlive him. We both have -- both /had/ -- the Ashford drive to get out and /do/ things, to see the world. We both take risks, gods know. But Killian was by far the better fighter -- the one who wore solid armor, the rock on whom others can depend. I rely on speed, dexterity, and the fact that better than half of the things that try to kill me don't want to bother following me up a tree.
I always sort of half-assumed that if one of us died, it would be me going missing in the field on one of my expeditions. I never considered that I might outlive him. I never thought I'd have to grieve him.
And now he's gone. There's a hole in my family -- in /me/ -- where he used to be, an emptiness, and I don't know how to fill it. You're fiercely missed already, little brother, by me -- and by all those who knew and loved you.
And I hope whatever your next trip around the wheel brings, you keep that sense of adventure in your soul.
Written By Serafine
Dec. 25, 2017, 3:37 a.m.(11/3/1007 AR)
Relationship Note on Talen
Ha ha hah haaa haaaaa haaaaa.
Written By Serafine
Dec. 25, 2017, 3:36 a.m.(11/3/1007 AR)
Relationship Note on Silas
Shit, you got -married-?
Slap my ass and call me wenched, what a wonderful surprise. Congratulations!
Slap my ass and call me wenched, what a wonderful surprise. Congratulations!
Written By Serafine
Dec. 25, 2017, 3:34 a.m.(11/3/1007 AR)
So I was out and about, south of the city and beyond the woods. Ran into some of the People, the Shav'arvani in Lycene territory speak a particular dialect, and I'm happy to say I've still no accent and no decay of fluency, as the Lady Aislin would perhaps coin the phrase. Decided to spend the summer and fall with a tribe in the Wilds, not exactly similar to my folk that lived a little north. While I was with them, got some new ink to add to that I'd gathered living with my tribe less than a handful of years ago
has it already been so long since then?
and it hurt less than I'd thought it might to live and run with the Shav again. I mean, don't get me wrong. Miss my family, I do, my spouses, my children, the little mobile village we lived in. But I didn't slip into true nostalgia, not like grief. Just ... well. They're not the same, right? Not the same people. Speak the same language, or at least one of them, but some of the traditions are different but again, that's not exactly unusual.
Oh right, yeah, the ink. So it turns out I don't see everything that's on me. I keep finding new stuff, new words, and the ink-master of this particular tribe pointed out a scribbled serpent on the upper back of my left thigh. Now, I've always caught Leta kissing back there, tracing something, thought it was just... you know. Some people like legs. Others, breasts. Some like that line right where the butt meets the thigh? Yeah, that. Anyway, turns out there's words in the scales of this serpent-thing. Or at least, that's what the ink-master told me. I've had Leta's mirror in the tub the last hour or so, after scrubbing myself clean, and I don't know if that old coot was full of shite or what because I don't see anything. Maybe it's in a language I don't know, maybe he was just fucking with me.
Sense of humor is pretty universal, guy had a glint in his one good eye something awful. I'm choosing to believe he's full of it and the elder of my tribe didn't sneak something else into my tattoos. I've found a few surprises, but Tehom's tits, I don't need anymore of those.
What was that, lad? Oh, aye, yes. It's good to be home.
Hmm? Aye, they've no fruit tarts in the wild. I've got four, here, you want one-?
[there are berry smears at the bottom edges of the page]
has it already been so long since then?
and it hurt less than I'd thought it might to live and run with the Shav again. I mean, don't get me wrong. Miss my family, I do, my spouses, my children, the little mobile village we lived in. But I didn't slip into true nostalgia, not like grief. Just ... well. They're not the same, right? Not the same people. Speak the same language, or at least one of them, but some of the traditions are different but again, that's not exactly unusual.
Oh right, yeah, the ink. So it turns out I don't see everything that's on me. I keep finding new stuff, new words, and the ink-master of this particular tribe pointed out a scribbled serpent on the upper back of my left thigh. Now, I've always caught Leta kissing back there, tracing something, thought it was just... you know. Some people like legs. Others, breasts. Some like that line right where the butt meets the thigh? Yeah, that. Anyway, turns out there's words in the scales of this serpent-thing. Or at least, that's what the ink-master told me. I've had Leta's mirror in the tub the last hour or so, after scrubbing myself clean, and I don't know if that old coot was full of shite or what because I don't see anything. Maybe it's in a language I don't know, maybe he was just fucking with me.
Sense of humor is pretty universal, guy had a glint in his one good eye something awful. I'm choosing to believe he's full of it and the elder of my tribe didn't sneak something else into my tattoos. I've found a few surprises, but Tehom's tits, I don't need anymore of those.
What was that, lad? Oh, aye, yes. It's good to be home.
Hmm? Aye, they've no fruit tarts in the wild. I've got four, here, you want one-?
[there are berry smears at the bottom edges of the page]
Written By Shard
Dec. 25, 2017, 3:17 a.m.(11/3/1007 AR)
Relationship Note on Cirroch
The North has never been safe for the Abandoned, and often that's been because of the Compact. Understand that first. The lure of the Horned One, when he isn't forcing tribes to join him, is protection from you. Part of this is built on a lie, but he sells that lie so well because it fits perfectly with the actual truth. The Horned One says he will let them keep their ways and continue living as they always have. This is also a lie, but it sounds much better than changing their entire way of life and giving up everything they've known for centuries in order to come and live under the rule of strangers who will never fully accept them until their children's children have so fully adapted to this new way of living that no one can tell the difference any more and their old traditions have been mostly erased and their stories and histories forgotten, which is what the Compact usually offers...when it offers anything at all.
You say you need these people? Consider that they've been living all this time without you, often in spite of you. Are they allowed to refuse you? If so, good. If not, you aren't negotiating, you're simply offering terms of servitude or death, and they'll see it for what it is, even if they end up accepting. Food and healing are good, but Abandoned can feed themselves and have their own healers. And if a tribe is in need, you're offering short term gifts for the lifelong oaths of their entire tribe. Consider: how honorable is it, exactly, to ask them to choose between the lives of their friends and family, and their loyalty?
Think about these things, before you go to any of them. If you're looking for allies, treat them as potential allies, not resources to be mined, and consider what actual benefits--not trinkets--you can offer them, long term, in exchange for what you think you'll get out of it. It isn't a small thing you're asking them to do.
You say you need these people? Consider that they've been living all this time without you, often in spite of you. Are they allowed to refuse you? If so, good. If not, you aren't negotiating, you're simply offering terms of servitude or death, and they'll see it for what it is, even if they end up accepting. Food and healing are good, but Abandoned can feed themselves and have their own healers. And if a tribe is in need, you're offering short term gifts for the lifelong oaths of their entire tribe. Consider: how honorable is it, exactly, to ask them to choose between the lives of their friends and family, and their loyalty?
Think about these things, before you go to any of them. If you're looking for allies, treat them as potential allies, not resources to be mined, and consider what actual benefits--not trinkets--you can offer them, long term, in exchange for what you think you'll get out of it. It isn't a small thing you're asking them to do.
Written By Serafine
Dec. 25, 2017, 12:49 a.m.(11/2/1007 AR)
Relationship Note on Cirroch
Be warned, friend: If you come across an elder that -insists- you eat something? Don't question. Just eat it.
Written By Lucita
Dec. 25, 2017, 12:36 a.m.(11/2/1007 AR)
Relationship Note on Ian
The message received was 'I'm not dead.' Knowing Lord Ian that translates to 'bring whiskey or rum, pleasant company and a good healer.' None the less it is a very nice thought that one is remembered by a friend and that they have returned from some dangerous situation intact, or enough intact to send a message.
Written By Cirroch
Dec. 25, 2017, 12:14 a.m.(11/2/1007 AR)
Relationship Note on Oddmun
It is good to have my cousin here in Arx. He already gets along with Sasha. He is going to help us on our peace missions to the tribes.
Written By Cirroch
Dec. 25, 2017, 12:10 a.m.(11/2/1007 AR)
Relationship Note on Tila
I'm glad to have my sister in Arx to champion and support my efforts to build up our House. I'm already getting whiffs of her own efforts. I look forward to the Halfshav/Sanna party she is planning.
Written By Serafine
Dec. 25, 2017, 12:04 a.m.(11/2/1007 AR)
Relationship Note on Eleyna
It's your fault, you know.
Written By Darrow
Dec. 25, 2017, midnight(11/2/1007 AR)
It turns out I was right, though I take no grim satisfaction in it:
Zhayla was the target of those Prodigals we encountered. Now she and Killian Ashford are dead.
I know not if my warnings were heeded.
Zhayla was the target of those Prodigals we encountered. Now she and Killian Ashford are dead.
I know not if my warnings were heeded.
Written By Darrow
Dec. 24, 2017, 11:58 p.m.(11/2/1007 AR)
Three are dust on the wind...
but one is perhaps oil in the water.
but one is perhaps oil in the water.
Written By Eleyna
Dec. 24, 2017, 11:56 p.m.(11/2/1007 AR)
Relationship Note on Serafine
I'm glad you are home and safe.
Even if you do smell like you've been in the woods for three months.
Even if you do smell like you've been in the woods for three months.
Written By Silas
Dec. 24, 2017, 11:49 p.m.(11/2/1007 AR)
I don’t think I’ve had so much mood whiplash in one week. Here’s hoping the next is significantly more consistent.
Written By Luis
Dec. 24, 2017, 11:49 p.m.(11/2/1007 AR)
I swear I had written more this week, however it would appear that time moves swifter than I often realize. In the last few days I have been delighted to encounter several Northerners who have shown great insight and hospitality, I think I finally am seeing the things that drew my cousins North.
Written By Cirroch
Dec. 24, 2017, 11:42 p.m.(11/2/1007 AR)
House Sanna is reaching out to the tribes near Giant's Reach. Winter is coming and the North is no longer safe for the Abandoned tribes. We want to bring the tribes supplies, healing and assess their further needs in the event that they bend the knee and join the Compact.
We need to convince them to join us peacefully. We need storytellers, linguists, adventurers, diplomats, singers, soldiers, healers and any generous lover of the compact.
Marquis Cirroch Sanna of Giant's Reach
OOC: This is an offscreen @action that I will probably submit after the 1st.
We need to convince them to join us peacefully. We need storytellers, linguists, adventurers, diplomats, singers, soldiers, healers and any generous lover of the compact.
Marquis Cirroch Sanna of Giant's Reach
OOC: This is an offscreen @action that I will probably submit after the 1st.
Written By Joscelin
Dec. 24, 2017, 11:41 p.m.(11/2/1007 AR)
Relationship Note on Aureth
Nobody understands us. This is fine by me.
Written By Tallius
Dec. 24, 2017, 11:36 p.m.(11/2/1007 AR)
There is so much death and sorrow in the city, and yet, at the same time there is hope and new life as well. I did not know those who died, but I have known others, so many, who like them stood against the evils of the world. Who like them, paid the price for it. It's because of men and women like them, that we can look to the hope and new life coming into the world and keep going towards tomorrow. So I thank them, because they were willing to do that for us.
Written By Margerie
Dec. 24, 2017, 11:35 p.m.(11/2/1007 AR)
Notes to self on ideas to pursue:
Speak to Kael about an idea for training some of the hounds (after discussion with Princess Valencia at the House of Solace)
Try to find an artist with an interest in illuminating texts for some of those interesting books Reigna had about the Hall.
See if someone would adapt said books to entertainments for the masses.
It might prove some small profits and perhaps be used for charitable giving.
Discuss Alis' idea of a book club a bit more. What fun that could be!
Speak to Kael about an idea for training some of the hounds (after discussion with Princess Valencia at the House of Solace)
Try to find an artist with an interest in illuminating texts for some of those interesting books Reigna had about the Hall.
See if someone would adapt said books to entertainments for the masses.
It might prove some small profits and perhaps be used for charitable giving.
Discuss Alis' idea of a book club a bit more. What fun that could be!
Please note that the scholars may take some time preparing your journal for others to read.