Written By Josephine
Sept. 15, 2019, 11 p.m.(11/5/1011 AR)
They were not at all what I expected. I write this while pleasantly surprised. Not that I'd tell anyone at all. I think I'll enjoy the time in my forge in the future.
Written By Josephine
Sept. 11, 2019, 3:07 p.m.(10/24/1011 AR)
It has been intriguing the things that have been delivered to my shop. Objects and letters, people coming in and telling jokes to the ingot of star iron and other metals that might be used. The best thus far was a noble who sent a message by ass, about a lazy ass.
Another sent some lovely and terribly punny smith joke.
Did you hear about the two metals that got married? They had a welding.
I'll have to write them down to remember.
Why does iron have trouble making friends? It has 'rust issues.
Another sent some lovely and terribly punny smith joke.
Did you hear about the two metals that got married? They had a welding.
I'll have to write them down to remember.
Why does iron have trouble making friends? It has 'rust issues.
Written By Josephine
Aug. 25, 2019, 12:15 a.m.(9/17/1011 AR)
A million silver I well know the economic impact of. A million silver is no small amount. A million silver is what one can ask the crown for if they possess the boon won in the tournament of roses. A million silver is what the winner of the peoples tournament will walk away with and fortunes change. More than what most lower nobles will ever see in their life as well.
And a million silver will bring back to my dearest friend, her staff. I live with the Blessed. There's days where we cannot abide the nattering of youth in the streets. Evenings where we sit in front of the fire and just listen to Oswald snuffling and Jam and Butter cooing. With age, we find solidarity and escape. You'll find no nattering gems in my house except on my finger and even they know to hush.
It's silver, my own silver, and it'll take me some time to recover financially, but I'll be fine and shall endure. Because when you manage to reach our ages, there are things that have managed to travel the roads with us. That have within them, imbued certain intangible value. They have been with us through thick and thin. The silver on the inside of my wedding band has been polished to a gleam that the outside shall never match. There are places on her staff, where the Blessed's hand has worn a groove and has a shine that no lacquer can reproduce. Scuffs and marks, streaks.
To offer a million silver is deliberate. It is a sum so great that it will spur a search. A sum so great that if it was done with malicious intent, that greed might weigh more than whatever might have spurred someone to steal it. It has been months. Months. A smaller bounty brought forth no leads, and I am done seeing my friend hurting and bereft of something that helps her to cope with the other losses that she has seen. I am done seeing my friend bereft of a companion that has been with her for so long. A limb cut and wrenched from the body.
I will bleed silver, for my dear friend. I would bleed silver for a great many because they are worth it in my eyes, all the silver in the world. Who or what, would you bleed silver for Goodwoman Shazza Sedna? Who would you -bleed- for, if anyone? Who would bleed for you? Because I know that if the roles were reversed, the Blessed would wade through war for me. For near anyone in this compact.
So get out there. Find the staff. There's ankles that badly need rapping.
So I offer a million silver.
And a million silver will bring back to my dearest friend, her staff. I live with the Blessed. There's days where we cannot abide the nattering of youth in the streets. Evenings where we sit in front of the fire and just listen to Oswald snuffling and Jam and Butter cooing. With age, we find solidarity and escape. You'll find no nattering gems in my house except on my finger and even they know to hush.
It's silver, my own silver, and it'll take me some time to recover financially, but I'll be fine and shall endure. Because when you manage to reach our ages, there are things that have managed to travel the roads with us. That have within them, imbued certain intangible value. They have been with us through thick and thin. The silver on the inside of my wedding band has been polished to a gleam that the outside shall never match. There are places on her staff, where the Blessed's hand has worn a groove and has a shine that no lacquer can reproduce. Scuffs and marks, streaks.
To offer a million silver is deliberate. It is a sum so great that it will spur a search. A sum so great that if it was done with malicious intent, that greed might weigh more than whatever might have spurred someone to steal it. It has been months. Months. A smaller bounty brought forth no leads, and I am done seeing my friend hurting and bereft of something that helps her to cope with the other losses that she has seen. I am done seeing my friend bereft of a companion that has been with her for so long. A limb cut and wrenched from the body.
I will bleed silver, for my dear friend. I would bleed silver for a great many because they are worth it in my eyes, all the silver in the world. Who or what, would you bleed silver for Goodwoman Shazza Sedna? Who would you -bleed- for, if anyone? Who would bleed for you? Because I know that if the roles were reversed, the Blessed would wade through war for me. For near anyone in this compact.
So get out there. Find the staff. There's ankles that badly need rapping.
So I offer a million silver.
Written By Josephine
Aug. 18, 2019, 10:53 p.m.(9/5/1011 AR)
Well that serves me right for being neck deep in gems and not traversing back to the manor. Shameful. I really should make time to actually venture forth to my home in the evening while the weather is bearable.
Written By Josephine
Aug. 11, 2019, 9:46 p.m.(8/19/1011 AR)
A busy week, with little time for much of anything other than sitting in the forge. But to see the things fly forth from the cases and leave, singing on the necks, fingers and fingers of those who have come in, knowing that the pieces are happy. Well. Another busy week for me is coming. I wonder if I'll see the sun this week.
Written By Josephine
Aug. 1, 2019, 3:39 p.m.(7/26/1011 AR)
I think I upset Lady Peri. She came to see the newest piece but it was sold already. I offered to show her the sketches and perhaps something in the same vein. A discussion of cost brought about that pockets were tighter and I offered to make one of silver, with sapphires of varying shades.
From there, the conversation went downhill if you call it a conversation. Fractures. I assured her that none of my gems fracture. Not in the least. I make very sure when cutting them to ensure that no flaw that would lead to such remains.
I don't know. I have offended her. Gems are verboten? But she came in a shop that they abide and are bountiful. Oh I'm so confused. Emeralds too?
Fair certain that I'm now on some list of those to whom not to sell Seliki pearls to after that.
From there, the conversation went downhill if you call it a conversation. Fractures. I assured her that none of my gems fracture. Not in the least. I make very sure when cutting them to ensure that no flaw that would lead to such remains.
I don't know. I have offended her. Gems are verboten? But she came in a shop that they abide and are bountiful. Oh I'm so confused. Emeralds too?
Fair certain that I'm now on some list of those to whom not to sell Seliki pearls to after that.
Written By Josephine
July 26, 2019, 1:30 a.m.(7/13/1011 AR)
There is something to be said, for huddling over a bench with ones patron, and working on something. To see her fledgeling skills at smithing blossom. The way she holds the hammer better. I gave her her patron's gift a little early, the second part will come soon enough. I wonder if her words were true. If I was her mother in some past life, some previous turn off the wheel. I don't know. It's not me to delve in and find out, nor do I know whether I would want to. But the bird prints at the bottom of the letter made me smile as well. Little fat wendy bird.
Written By Josephine
July 21, 2019, 9:41 p.m.(7/5/1011 AR)
Patrons day fast approaches. It makes me wonder what it is that I should create for my own patron. I look forward to seeing and hearing what others will do upon this particular feast day. How they'll honour their own patron.
Most certainly, I won't do so my getting a bowl of berries for the wendy bird. Most certainly not.
Most certainly, I won't do so my getting a bowl of berries for the wendy bird. Most certainly not.
Written By Josephine
July 18, 2019, 10:27 a.m.(6/26/1011 AR)
I remember my mother getting exasperated with me when I would tell her that she was using the wrong gem. Or my father looking at me strangely when I would change out the ingots that would be going in someones armor. Disharmony I said. It will not be at it's finest, there will be a flaw, this will protect them better. The pieces will blend. An arrow will not pierce there where there is weakness.
They thought I was odd. They still think I am odd. My world has rarely been a quiet one, not even the sanctuary of my own home. Water has never been a delight save to drink and bathe and even then if I could avoid it, I would. The sea takes from me, has always taken from me, even when I have given it two of my children. Mangata does not favor me. But that is fine. Or maybe it is that I do not favour her?
No piece leaves my hands unless I am satisfied. Unless they sing in joy and delight, tells me they are content, satisfied and happy. Some times, sometimes that takes some time. There has been a piece that I have been working on for the better part of half a year. A piece that sits upside down upon the brow instead of rising to lofty heights. A gift commissioned for another, a celebration of life, of success and no matter how much it is denied, I am sure, affection.
No doubt that the incessant chattering about the thawed dwarves were what kept me from finishing it sooner. It has been hard, harder I should say, to pry from the stones and the metals, what they wish to be, if they are satisfied with arrangements, will they get along with one another. It has sat on the corner of my bench and I have talked with it. It with me. It was the longest that I have worked on a piece. Every now and then I would listen and then take it down, fix this. heat up that part and apply pressure just so. Less than perfection would not do. Gods alone knows he woo'd me and properly to make this piece when I was taking no commissions.
And then, I took it up one last time. I don't know why, just the urge to sit and hold it. It was the dead of the night and I should have gone home. My leg ached a little less though and so I stayed and took it down and come the morning I called him in after hours spent working and polishing. Setting in the epiphanites. If I should never, make something such as this again, I shall be fine. But this was not the stones, or the metal. This was a guiding hand.
I am exhausted. But this is a good exhaustion. I am elated.
I was hard pressed to give it up.
I give another child to the world, one of metal and gems that tells a tale of four and many score. Of a woman with dark hair and a smile who takes a hand. Of a smith who works tirelessly over her bench at delicate tasks. Of a man who works to hammer water and of many hands joining to make something beautiful.
And a woman with golden eyes. That... well. That I have no context for.
I am just odd. But I am fine with odd if this is what oddity inspires.
They thought I was odd. They still think I am odd. My world has rarely been a quiet one, not even the sanctuary of my own home. Water has never been a delight save to drink and bathe and even then if I could avoid it, I would. The sea takes from me, has always taken from me, even when I have given it two of my children. Mangata does not favor me. But that is fine. Or maybe it is that I do not favour her?
No piece leaves my hands unless I am satisfied. Unless they sing in joy and delight, tells me they are content, satisfied and happy. Some times, sometimes that takes some time. There has been a piece that I have been working on for the better part of half a year. A piece that sits upside down upon the brow instead of rising to lofty heights. A gift commissioned for another, a celebration of life, of success and no matter how much it is denied, I am sure, affection.
No doubt that the incessant chattering about the thawed dwarves were what kept me from finishing it sooner. It has been hard, harder I should say, to pry from the stones and the metals, what they wish to be, if they are satisfied with arrangements, will they get along with one another. It has sat on the corner of my bench and I have talked with it. It with me. It was the longest that I have worked on a piece. Every now and then I would listen and then take it down, fix this. heat up that part and apply pressure just so. Less than perfection would not do. Gods alone knows he woo'd me and properly to make this piece when I was taking no commissions.
And then, I took it up one last time. I don't know why, just the urge to sit and hold it. It was the dead of the night and I should have gone home. My leg ached a little less though and so I stayed and took it down and come the morning I called him in after hours spent working and polishing. Setting in the epiphanites. If I should never, make something such as this again, I shall be fine. But this was not the stones, or the metal. This was a guiding hand.
I am exhausted. But this is a good exhaustion. I am elated.
I was hard pressed to give it up.
I give another child to the world, one of metal and gems that tells a tale of four and many score. Of a woman with dark hair and a smile who takes a hand. Of a smith who works tirelessly over her bench at delicate tasks. Of a man who works to hammer water and of many hands joining to make something beautiful.
And a woman with golden eyes. That... well. That I have no context for.
I am just odd. But I am fine with odd if this is what oddity inspires.
Written By Josephine
July 11, 2019, 10:18 p.m.(6/12/1011 AR)
Well, now I'm broke. I suppose I'll need to finish off all these commissions. Once Demetria finds the list.
Written By Josephine
July 8, 2019, 8:16 a.m.(6/5/1011 AR)
I think the gem merchant either is in love with me, or this is a false stone despite that the song it sings tells me that it's not.
Regardless, it is a good morning in the market and whats in my velvet bags, well. Jayus be praised, a certain Velenosan will be happy.
Regardless, it is a good morning in the market and whats in my velvet bags, well. Jayus be praised, a certain Velenosan will be happy.
Written By Josephine
July 7, 2019, 11:38 p.m.(6/4/1011 AR)
A monumentous amount of paperwork.
I sometimes wonder how in the gods names she managed it. Because there is quite a bit of it. Thank siad gods for Lora who brought Wendy and WEndy provided entertainment while we sorted through the names and the like.
Then a visit from Fortunato gave much needed respite from the paperwork. I do hope that the foul mouth things will be of use to him. Perhaps that theory is right and it's less that they are unhappy but that they just don't want to work with me? Time will tell. But if the bracelets spew explenatives even after they have been made or there is a very angry piece of metal, well. We'll know.
I am still reminded of that singular angry riotous ruby that I turned into an earring.
You knew, you very well knew what would happen Joscelin. Now I have a bench in my shop with nothing but paperwork.
I sometimes wonder how in the gods names she managed it. Because there is quite a bit of it. Thank siad gods for Lora who brought Wendy and WEndy provided entertainment while we sorted through the names and the like.
Then a visit from Fortunato gave much needed respite from the paperwork. I do hope that the foul mouth things will be of use to him. Perhaps that theory is right and it's less that they are unhappy but that they just don't want to work with me? Time will tell. But if the bracelets spew explenatives even after they have been made or there is a very angry piece of metal, well. We'll know.
I am still reminded of that singular angry riotous ruby that I turned into an earring.
You knew, you very well knew what would happen Joscelin. Now I have a bench in my shop with nothing but paperwork.
Written By Josephine
June 26, 2019, 11:58 a.m.(5/9/1011 AR)
Relationship Note on Rook
The Crown Minister of Coin has proven himself a friend to the Crafter's Guild for his steadfast support and ensuring the continued livelihood of the common born crafter and merchants in the city. Their ability to feed their family's and carry on their way of life remains safe under his watchful eye. The Crafter's Guild looks forward to continued support even as we support Goodman Rook Champagne.
Written By Josephine
June 26, 2019, 11:49 a.m.(5/9/1011 AR)
Relationship Note on Jaenelle
The Archduchess Regent and Crown Minister of Infrastructure has worked hard to ensure that the crafters of the compact are able to ply their trade and ensure that their livelihood is never threatened under her watch. She is favoured of the Crafter's Guild and we look forward to her continued support of the common born crafter as we support her.
Written By Josephine
June 22, 2019, 7:42 p.m.(5/2/1011 AR)
There are times when I am profoundly grateful for all that I have and even all that I have lost. Today is such a day, returning home. To press kisses to the foreheads of my grandchildren, my children and to pen letters to my sister and brother back home. To stop along the way and say a prayer of thanks for the safety of my children who stand with the Queen of Endings, waiting thier turn to be spun back out and a life lived again.
I would brave the waters if I had to for my children even. No doubt she will do so ten times over before she finds her child.
I would brave the waters if I had to for my children even. No doubt she will do so ten times over before she finds her child.
Written By Josephine
June 21, 2019, 11:26 a.m.(4/27/1011 AR)
A song I heard recently, inspired the latest piece and many have seemed to want the piece. So much so that I had to set the family to making a few more. A blessed chance to stop hearing about thawing things. Though perhaps an ear worm. I find myself humming it and though the lyrics are dark the melody itself seems peaceful.
It's a world of danger, a world of fear,
It's a world of darkness, a world of tears,
There's so much that we dare, but it's time to beware,
It's a dark world after all.
It's a dark world after all,
It's a dark world after all,
It's a dark world after all,
It's a dark, dark world.
There is just one moon, and one golden sun,
And the archfiends try to kill everyone,
While the dragons abide and our doom now betide,
It's a dark world after all.
It's a world of danger, a world of fear,
It's a world of darkness, a world of tears,
There's so much that we dare, but it's time to beware,
It's a dark world after all.
It's a dark world after all,
It's a dark world after all,
It's a dark world after all,
It's a dark, dark world.
There is just one moon, and one golden sun,
And the archfiends try to kill everyone,
While the dragons abide and our doom now betide,
It's a dark world after all.
Written By Josephine
June 19, 2019, 2:41 p.m.(4/24/1011 AR)
There is just one moon and one golden sun... such an odd tune. So dark. I almost wish that the talk of thawing would dislodge this song.
It's a dark world after all... so strange.
It's a dark world after all... so strange.
Written By Josephine
June 13, 2019, 10:10 p.m.(4/12/1011 AR)
Relationship Note on Brigida
I did.
Just making note of that.
I most certainly did.
But then I think we both did quite a bit of that, standing side by side and watching young things go prancing by in the snow.
Just making note of that.
I most certainly did.
But then I think we both did quite a bit of that, standing side by side and watching young things go prancing by in the snow.
Written By Josephine
June 9, 2019, 11:22 p.m.(4/4/1011 AR)
They were big shoes and great minds that came before me. I now step into them, and tread the path that they did. I can only hope that I do not disappoint. It will take many hands I think, to live up to the standards of Joscelin. Time will tell if I was the right choice.
Written By Josephine
June 2, 2019, 11:07 p.m.(3/18/1011 AR)
I enjoy the conversations by guests in my forge. Or the challenge of an unorthodox gift.
I hope the poor man doesn't get murdered. It would be a shame. But death by wife's hand wouldn't be the first time a man went to the Queen's embrace.
I hope the poor man doesn't get murdered. It would be a shame. But death by wife's hand wouldn't be the first time a man went to the Queen's embrace.
Please note that the scholars may take some time preparing your journal for others to read.