Written By Samantha
Dec. 19, 2017, 5:18 p.m.(10/20/1007 AR)
Relationship Note on Magpie
If only he was seeking a patron!
I long to bring such effulgent stories to the people.
I long to bring such effulgent stories to the people.
Written By Magpie
Dec. 19, 2017, 5:17 p.m.(10/20/1007 AR)
If you happen to read my journals and enjoyed my romantic weaving of words today, rejoice! I will be releasing the full book in my shop, soon.
For a modest fee, of course. I have to pay the scribes, after all.
For a modest fee, of course. I have to pay the scribes, after all.
Written By Esoka
Dec. 19, 2017, 5 p.m.(10/20/1007 AR)
Relationship Note on Magpie
You are an artist and weaver of words for our time. I shall look for more of your fine tales!
Written By Sparte
Dec. 19, 2017, 4:23 p.m.(10/20/1007 AR)
The history of the compact is a mess. I don't just mean it is disorganized, but the things that happened are frankly unbelievable.
Take for instance the fallen noble lines through the history of Arx. Who died, who succeeded them, what happened to the person who died? Seems like a simple and important question to be able to answer. I get why so many of the scholars drink. It isn't their fault, just their problem.
Take for instance the fallen noble lines through the history of Arx. Who died, who succeeded them, what happened to the person who died? Seems like a simple and important question to be able to answer. I get why so many of the scholars drink. It isn't their fault, just their problem.
Written By Calaudrin
Dec. 19, 2017, 4:18 p.m.(10/20/1007 AR)
Relationship Note on Magpie
You're deranged and unwell.
Written By Magpie
Dec. 19, 2017, 4:13 p.m.(10/20/1007 AR)
The Soldier and the Sailor
Lieutenant Calardun Esdarsus had overslept again! There he was, sprawled on his bed with the sheets tangled around his midsection, his muscled back bared to the world as a breeze through the open window gently tousled his salt-and-pepper silken strands of hair. Of course the soldier was exhausted, with Baron Silas off on yet another trip to the Lycene hot springs for a few weeks of recreation, Calardun was handling all of his own duties and the baron's combined. His clothing still laid on the floor in a heap, the man's particular musky scent of sweat, leather, armor oil and tobacco clinging to the garments.
It wasn't just luck that brought Mapgie Gryhop by the lieutenant's open window. No, the humble, gracious, adoring commoner was bringing a fresh, hot breakfast sandwich for his dear friend. Packed between two fresh-baked toasted slices of bread were eggs, cheese, peppers, onions, and thick bacon. Mapgie stopped at the window, holding the sandwich up to that the tantalizing aroma could waft about the room and begin to tease the man to wakefulness. While he waited for Calardun to awaken, Mapgie gazed in upon him with a soft, tender expression. It wasn't long before the Gryhop felt the warm fire building within him of all those repressed feelings forever kept caged away. Unrequited love can take it's toll on a man, but Mapgie knew Esdarsus wasn't yet ready to face the truth... the destiny they both knew they shared.
Calardun stirred, his nose wrinkling up cutely and little crispies sifting down from his eyelashes as he started to arouse from slumber. Mapgie swiftly left the sandwich there on the window sill and hurried on down the street. It wasn't until the sailor was around the corner and safely out of sight that he allowed himself to pause, pressed back against the wall and gasping for breath. "How... ? How can I go on like this? I feel like my heart is going to explode from my chest."
Back in the room, Esdarsus was slowly opening his eyes, a peaceful smile upon his face as he inhaled that delicious aroma. He looked around and his eyes fell on the breakfast that was left mysteriously for him. "Could it be?" He allowed himself to whisper, slowly getting to his feet. As he approached the window, his blanket dropped away.
Lieutenant Calardun Esdarsus had overslept again! There he was, sprawled on his bed with the sheets tangled around his midsection, his muscled back bared to the world as a breeze through the open window gently tousled his salt-and-pepper silken strands of hair. Of course the soldier was exhausted, with Baron Silas off on yet another trip to the Lycene hot springs for a few weeks of recreation, Calardun was handling all of his own duties and the baron's combined. His clothing still laid on the floor in a heap, the man's particular musky scent of sweat, leather, armor oil and tobacco clinging to the garments.
It wasn't just luck that brought Mapgie Gryhop by the lieutenant's open window. No, the humble, gracious, adoring commoner was bringing a fresh, hot breakfast sandwich for his dear friend. Packed between two fresh-baked toasted slices of bread were eggs, cheese, peppers, onions, and thick bacon. Mapgie stopped at the window, holding the sandwich up to that the tantalizing aroma could waft about the room and begin to tease the man to wakefulness. While he waited for Calardun to awaken, Mapgie gazed in upon him with a soft, tender expression. It wasn't long before the Gryhop felt the warm fire building within him of all those repressed feelings forever kept caged away. Unrequited love can take it's toll on a man, but Mapgie knew Esdarsus wasn't yet ready to face the truth... the destiny they both knew they shared.
Calardun stirred, his nose wrinkling up cutely and little crispies sifting down from his eyelashes as he started to arouse from slumber. Mapgie swiftly left the sandwich there on the window sill and hurried on down the street. It wasn't until the sailor was around the corner and safely out of sight that he allowed himself to pause, pressed back against the wall and gasping for breath. "How... ? How can I go on like this? I feel like my heart is going to explode from my chest."
Back in the room, Esdarsus was slowly opening his eyes, a peaceful smile upon his face as he inhaled that delicious aroma. He looked around and his eyes fell on the breakfast that was left mysteriously for him. "Could it be?" He allowed himself to whisper, slowly getting to his feet. As he approached the window, his blanket dropped away.
Written By Edain
Dec. 19, 2017, 3:43 p.m.(10/20/1007 AR)
I feel as if my comments earlier in these pages has had unintended consequences.
Written By Reigna
Dec. 19, 2017, 3:27 p.m.(10/20/1007 AR)
The pastry weapons have been deployed!
Written By Kael
Dec. 19, 2017, 3:16 p.m.(10/20/1007 AR)
Imagine my surprise and delight when I came home for lunch and saw the marvel of baked goods (shaped dangerously, at that!) that filled Keaton Hall. Then my disappointment when they were all packed away and sent off. I am jealous, baked good receivers! I truly am. Clearly I must challenge you to great duels of spun sugar.
Also, I do believe that for the next Winter festival -- or an event of Keaton -- we shall need to have powdered 'snowball' fight. It will be delicious.
Also, I do believe that for the next Winter festival -- or an event of Keaton -- we shall need to have powdered 'snowball' fight. It will be delicious.
Written By Calaudrin
Dec. 19, 2017, 2:56 p.m.(10/20/1007 AR)
Relationship Note on Magpie
Things that I like more than Magpie Grayhope, in no specific order:
Cockroaches.
Being attacked by fire ants.
Realizing that I've overslept.
Hangovers.
Breakfast sandwiches.
People sending me banjos.
Finding out Silas has gone on vacation and I have more paperwork to do.
Paperwork.
Getting a black eye.
Kittens.
Cockroaches.
Being attacked by fire ants.
Realizing that I've overslept.
Hangovers.
Breakfast sandwiches.
People sending me banjos.
Finding out Silas has gone on vacation and I have more paperwork to do.
Paperwork.
Getting a black eye.
Kittens.
Written By Victus
Dec. 19, 2017, 1:52 p.m.(10/20/1007 AR)
Relationship Note on Magpie
Apparently from the sounds, this DTF thing is some kinda expression of camaraderie. So ya know what Mag? Fuck what they all say.
If you got a dream to be one sappy motherfuck and share it with the world you go and do it. I'll be DTF you, your wife, your whole damn family by the end of it if need be.
Follow that passion, damn it.
If you got a dream to be one sappy motherfuck and share it with the world you go and do it. I'll be DTF you, your wife, your whole damn family by the end of it if need be.
Follow that passion, damn it.
Written By Percephon
Dec. 19, 2017, 1:10 p.m.(10/19/1007 AR)
Relationship Note on Alis
Sticks and scones may break your bones, but breakfast will never harm you.
Written By Magpie
Dec. 19, 2017, 12:50 p.m.(10/19/1007 AR)
If it's romance the people want? It's romance the people shall get. I am rarely one to shy from a challenge!
I don't know what DTF means, but I do love my wife very much.
I don't know what DTF means, but I do love my wife very much.
Written By Donella
Dec. 19, 2017, 12:50 p.m.(10/19/1007 AR)
Finally. Something I can work with.
Written By Percephon
Dec. 19, 2017, 12:01 p.m.(10/19/1007 AR)
Relationship Note on Edain
DTF: Data Transferal Format.
It appears to be the new collective colloquialism, an acronym, for sending missives.
Not unlike the strange trend of sending short messages by using songbirds as couriers.
It appears to be the new collective colloquialism, an acronym, for sending missives.
Not unlike the strange trend of sending short messages by using songbirds as couriers.
Written By Edain
Dec. 19, 2017, 11:37 a.m.(10/19/1007 AR)
Relationship Note on Caprice
What, pray tell, is "DTF." From the context I wonder if it is perhaps some kind of accreditation or apprenticed training?
Written By Caprice
Dec. 19, 2017, 11:29 a.m.(10/19/1007 AR)
I second this idea.
I request Magpie romance -- well writing. I mean I'm DTF but I think his wife might be upset.
I request Magpie romance -- well writing. I mean I'm DTF but I think his wife might be upset.
Written By Aureth
Dec. 19, 2017, 11:27 a.m.(10/19/1007 AR)
Relationship Note on Magpie
I was just thinking that he missed his calling in life and should write romance.
Written By Mae
Dec. 19, 2017, 10:05 a.m.(10/19/1007 AR)
Please, no one encourage Magpie. He really doesn't need encouragement.
Written By Alis
Dec. 19, 2017, 9:04 a.m.(10/19/1007 AR)
Relationship Note on Cristoph
I gallantly offer to throw myself in front of any incoming pastry projectiles headed your way.
Especially if they are launched somewhere around breakfast time. Or, after dinner.
Especially if they are launched somewhere around breakfast time. Or, after dinner.
Please note that the scholars may take some time preparing your journal for others to read.