Written By Rook
Dec. 4, 2021, 9:22 a.m.(9/8/1016 AR)
Collaboration is always the best way to accomplish any task! I have recently announced the upcoming Race Across Arx, and am looking forward to the event. While the initial seed of the idea is mine, I shall have to remember to give credit to Princesss Lark Grayson, Guildmaster Caprice Artiglio, and my protege Sira for providing some much needed honing of the idea.
Most specifically, Princess Lark helped save me from what might otherwise have been a rather tone-deaf display in a manner I had not even conceived of.
I do hope that the event is successful both in generating some much needed unity and providing some much needed diversion in these times of strife.
Most specifically, Princess Lark helped save me from what might otherwise have been a rather tone-deaf display in a manner I had not even conceived of.
I do hope that the event is successful both in generating some much needed unity and providing some much needed diversion in these times of strife.
Written By Rook
Dec. 3, 2021, 9:20 p.m.(9/7/1016 AR)
I had the fortune of running into a most intriguing noble today, Baroness Vaevici. She seems to have some great ideas for her House, and has news of troubles with supply lines to the south. I am wondering if the Silver Consortium can help ease their troubles...
Written By Titus
Dec. 3, 2021, 5:05 p.m.(9/7/1016 AR)
Today a very large oval object was transported to the grounds, looking like it's carved from bone with a rough exterior of tan and pale white but I'm told it is a rare egg of something.
Time will tell if whatever is inside decides to emerge.
Time will tell if whatever is inside decides to emerge.
Written By Iseulet
Dec. 3, 2021, 1:09 p.m.(9/6/1016 AR)
For some ladies, maybe size doesn't matter.
But for me? I say bigger is better.
Give me the caravel, thank you.
It may be partly the motion of the ocean, but I can't get to Cardia on a damn rowboat now can I.
But for me? I say bigger is better.
Give me the caravel, thank you.
It may be partly the motion of the ocean, but I can't get to Cardia on a damn rowboat now can I.
Written By Mabelle
Dec. 3, 2021, 5:41 a.m.(9/6/1016 AR)
So it seems if I ever develop a death wish, all I need to do is go to the Shadowoods and call, "I'm a Laurent!" and it will be over in less than a chime.
Fascinating.
Fascinating.
Written By Savio
Dec. 2, 2021, 6:39 p.m.(9/5/1016 AR)
Relationship Note on Orland
My husband recently wrote a very sweet and heartfelt series of notes about our relationship in his Journal. But really the evidence of his commitment is:
All the bullshit I post in the whites, all these songs and poems, are tested first...
On one soul...
Who is required to attend to each one...
And only a fraction of them actually appear here.
Staggering dedication, no?
All the bullshit I post in the whites, all these songs and poems, are tested first...
On one soul...
Who is required to attend to each one...
And only a fraction of them actually appear here.
Staggering dedication, no?
Written By Evaristo
Dec. 2, 2021, 6:02 p.m.(9/5/1016 AR)
I have been working the market again lately, which I do sporadically when I feel like it, and when I need some more money. I'm doing well enough, but soon as I make enough to have a decent buffer, I find something that I absolutely MUST buy.
Oh well, I only live once.
Oh well, I only live once.
Written By Ciaphas
Dec. 2, 2021, 1:25 p.m.(9/4/1016 AR)
Dearest Diary,
I've had a thought: Armour guards the body, but what guards the soul?
I've thought of this as I've purviewed the teachings of the Thirteenth. Of the Dark Reflection and how it is viewed - with a quote that struck me quite powerfully:
"But as much as you fear the Thirteenth, you should still pray to him. Pray that you can master the dark side of your soul, pray that you can be better than all that you fear, and pray that He can save you from what you fear you might become."
I applaud such writing. It fills my soul with warmth to contemplate that in the darknest spots, there is a source of structure and strength to bring you back from the precipice. I think of it like I think of combat. It is easy, once the fires of passion and bloodlust are ignited - and some may say bloodlust is a poor choice of words, to them I say - I dare you to debate someone charging at you with murder in their eyes and an axe in their hands on if they do not want to spill your blood over the sands.
I think you'll find they're pretty lustfully eager to do it.
I write then on my own thoughts and feelings. My own passions and how the Thirteenth and my thoughts and prayers help channel them away from negative impulses towards the good. Fear is a suitable guiding switch to chastise those who are weaker willed enough to easily give in to such impulses.
Contempt is a suitable emotion to feel for those baser impulses. To turn fighting for something into just violence. To turn defending your land and people into baseless murder for the joy of it. These are the ways that only end in your personal ruination, leaving you less than a person. You become a hollow shell, lesser than those around you.
Guard your soul with the armour of contempt. Deny those base impulses even the emotion and feeling that they must devour to survive. Give them nothing. An empty void, as you sit upon your throne and gaze down on them, and tell them simply;
No. You are not worthy of me. You are nothing. Less than nothing. You are the death of sanity. You are the screaming, mindless barbarism of violence, greed, lust and tyranny.
Am I a lush? Yes. Do I drink? Yes. Do I fight? Yes. I am not perfect. This is why we must pray and contemplate on ourselves. It is why I write journals. My worst excesses result in a hangover. I don't feel joy when the blackened blade of Ischia is drawn. There is no pleasure when I kill with it. I am the Sword of Ischia, and I hold all oaths as inviolate and sacred - so it should be no surprise that when I am drawn, it is by the people of Ischia I am wielded. It is the will of the March that guides me.
It is my contempt for those base urges that prevents the blade from becoming sullied. My desires do not matter as the Sword. It is not with rage that it is swung. It is not for the lust for blood that it causes the sands to turn red. It is Ischia that has slain you, not me. It is to Ischia that the glory goes, not I.
Back to my excesses, I'm going out drinking again, dearest diary. I will hold woe and pain in my heart, for I know the next morning I won't be able to think.
Kiss kiss.
I've had a thought: Armour guards the body, but what guards the soul?
I've thought of this as I've purviewed the teachings of the Thirteenth. Of the Dark Reflection and how it is viewed - with a quote that struck me quite powerfully:
"But as much as you fear the Thirteenth, you should still pray to him. Pray that you can master the dark side of your soul, pray that you can be better than all that you fear, and pray that He can save you from what you fear you might become."
I applaud such writing. It fills my soul with warmth to contemplate that in the darknest spots, there is a source of structure and strength to bring you back from the precipice. I think of it like I think of combat. It is easy, once the fires of passion and bloodlust are ignited - and some may say bloodlust is a poor choice of words, to them I say - I dare you to debate someone charging at you with murder in their eyes and an axe in their hands on if they do not want to spill your blood over the sands.
I think you'll find they're pretty lustfully eager to do it.
I write then on my own thoughts and feelings. My own passions and how the Thirteenth and my thoughts and prayers help channel them away from negative impulses towards the good. Fear is a suitable guiding switch to chastise those who are weaker willed enough to easily give in to such impulses.
Contempt is a suitable emotion to feel for those baser impulses. To turn fighting for something into just violence. To turn defending your land and people into baseless murder for the joy of it. These are the ways that only end in your personal ruination, leaving you less than a person. You become a hollow shell, lesser than those around you.
Guard your soul with the armour of contempt. Deny those base impulses even the emotion and feeling that they must devour to survive. Give them nothing. An empty void, as you sit upon your throne and gaze down on them, and tell them simply;
No. You are not worthy of me. You are nothing. Less than nothing. You are the death of sanity. You are the screaming, mindless barbarism of violence, greed, lust and tyranny.
Am I a lush? Yes. Do I drink? Yes. Do I fight? Yes. I am not perfect. This is why we must pray and contemplate on ourselves. It is why I write journals. My worst excesses result in a hangover. I don't feel joy when the blackened blade of Ischia is drawn. There is no pleasure when I kill with it. I am the Sword of Ischia, and I hold all oaths as inviolate and sacred - so it should be no surprise that when I am drawn, it is by the people of Ischia I am wielded. It is the will of the March that guides me.
It is my contempt for those base urges that prevents the blade from becoming sullied. My desires do not matter as the Sword. It is not with rage that it is swung. It is not for the lust for blood that it causes the sands to turn red. It is Ischia that has slain you, not me. It is to Ischia that the glory goes, not I.
Back to my excesses, I'm going out drinking again, dearest diary. I will hold woe and pain in my heart, for I know the next morning I won't be able to think.
Kiss kiss.
Written By Calla
Dec. 2, 2021, 10:09 a.m.(9/4/1016 AR)
Relationship Note on Drusila
I have been sent an interesting gift. It was waiting for me as I arrived back from Sangris, nestled upon my pillow like one might leave a chocolate for a weary traveler.
It is, what I will presume to be, an egg. But it is leathery and soft. Occasionally, it undulates as if something within writhes in a sack of slime. Stretches. Tests the boundaries of its leathery purse. When I hold it in the warmth of my palm, it presses itself against the hollow, soaking in the warmth of my skin. It feels like a nuzzle. An affectionate gesture.
And so I keep it close. I've been told it was almost time to come into the world. I await its arrival eagerly - whatever it may be.
It is, what I will presume to be, an egg. But it is leathery and soft. Occasionally, it undulates as if something within writhes in a sack of slime. Stretches. Tests the boundaries of its leathery purse. When I hold it in the warmth of my palm, it presses itself against the hollow, soaking in the warmth of my skin. It feels like a nuzzle. An affectionate gesture.
And so I keep it close. I've been told it was almost time to come into the world. I await its arrival eagerly - whatever it may be.
Written By Sylvie
Dec. 2, 2021, 7:45 a.m.(9/4/1016 AR)
From what I have heard, caravels are a useless trend as it is now.
I do not share the sentiment to fuck caravels, though. What they stand for, what they appeal to in people is understandable. A connection with our greater world, opportunities, prospects.
Caravels may be useless now, but they will not always be. Great things have come to our Compact by reaching out, reaching beyond.
I do not share the sentiment to fuck caravels, though. What they stand for, what they appeal to in people is understandable. A connection with our greater world, opportunities, prospects.
Caravels may be useless now, but they will not always be. Great things have come to our Compact by reaching out, reaching beyond.
Written By Cambria
Dec. 1, 2021, 11:08 p.m.(9/3/1016 AR)
Reality is that thing that does not go away when you stop believing in it.
Written By Gio
Dec. 1, 2021, 11:07 p.m.(9/3/1016 AR)
Having an opinion is rather like the harvesting of ambergris - what starts off smelling of shit, and whale decay - turns into a substance worth its weight in coin, and more, the longer it ages.
That's a thought.
That's a thought.
Written By Ilira
Dec. 1, 2021, 8:38 p.m.(9/3/1016 AR)
He said, "May her sorrows only lead to greater joys," then kissed his coin and threw it into the fountain for me.
What a strange way wishes work.
What a strange way wishes work.
Written By Savio
Dec. 1, 2021, 7:56 p.m.(9/3/1016 AR)
Relationship Note on Haakon
The Caravel Song, or, Get To The Boats
Dedicated to Lord Haakon Eswynd.
Their upkeep is a costly chore
You can't bring them close to shore
They're nigh on useless in a war --
And so we say, fuck caravels!
Consider a dromond, you twits
For the same cost, four more ships
Not bound to what the wind permits --
And so we say, fuck caravels!
For raiding a longboat is best
Throughout time it's passed the test
On every shoreline we possess --
And so we say, fuck caravels!
Even galleys, half-assed crap
Have their place in filling gaps
And luring the unwise to traps --
And so we say, fuck caravels!
Why do you soft-pated clods
Have so little love for cogs?
The best for all those trading jobs --
And so we say, fuck caravels!
Fashion is no base for sailing
Ignore that at the risk of failing
And all the while I'll be railing:
FUCK THESE FUCKIN CARAVELS.
Dedicated to Lord Haakon Eswynd.
Their upkeep is a costly chore
You can't bring them close to shore
They're nigh on useless in a war --
And so we say, fuck caravels!
Consider a dromond, you twits
For the same cost, four more ships
Not bound to what the wind permits --
And so we say, fuck caravels!
For raiding a longboat is best
Throughout time it's passed the test
On every shoreline we possess --
And so we say, fuck caravels!
Even galleys, half-assed crap
Have their place in filling gaps
And luring the unwise to traps --
And so we say, fuck caravels!
Why do you soft-pated clods
Have so little love for cogs?
The best for all those trading jobs --
And so we say, fuck caravels!
Fashion is no base for sailing
Ignore that at the risk of failing
And all the while I'll be railing:
FUCK THESE FUCKIN CARAVELS.
Written By Ida
Dec. 1, 2021, 7:50 p.m.(9/3/1016 AR)
Relationship Note on Tikva
Now I want to write a storybook for Lord Tiber with all the things I know about weapons. And/or make him replicas of some of the greatest or storied ones I've actually managed to see in person. Sadly, I know little of military history, but weapons? That would be fun to share. I bet he could probably tell me a few good stories I haven't heard, even.
Written By Lark
Dec. 1, 2021, 6:47 p.m.(9/3/1016 AR)
Relationship Note on Laric
If there is a sock thief on the loose at Grayson Manor, there's really only one person qualified enough to solve the case.
Written By Romulius
Dec. 1, 2021, 5:40 p.m.(9/3/1016 AR)
Relationship Note on Haakon
One of my shipwrights directed me to the journal recently published by the Lord Eswynd.
I approve. Ardently. The Compact also has the maddening tendency to describe any vessel fit for intercontinental travel as a 'caravel'.
The Eurusi caravel (and the Arvani, for that matter) are radically different ships from the galleons employed by the Cardians.
I approve. Ardently. The Compact also has the maddening tendency to describe any vessel fit for intercontinental travel as a 'caravel'.
The Eurusi caravel (and the Arvani, for that matter) are radically different ships from the galleons employed by the Cardians.
Written By Kiera
Dec. 1, 2021, 4:43 p.m.(9/3/1016 AR)
As for what sort of thing is the correct purview of the whites that will always be a matter of debate, but I personally perfer philosophical debate than personal attacks of individuals against those they percieve as having wronged them, but that which one chooses to write or speak is a matter of choice, provided one assumes the consequences of that choice and I recognize that others words are a gift of choice regardless of how annoying I might find them. So with some mild apology for annoying others I will address the subject of unity others have recently broached . When it comes to unity and other words of a conceptual nature a single word is often insufficient to convey clear meaining and so i distinguish between Unity of thought (Unity of chains an d Unity of Purpose (Unity of Choice). Complete unity of thought does not and cannot exist were choice does as in truth this requires the sublimatmation of one's individual thoughts and will. It need only be acknologed for purpose of philosophical argument
Unity of purpose or unity of choice is neither complete nor perfect but is the result of individuals retaining their thoughts and desires to accomplish common goals and common values. These are the foundation of arvani society codified formally as oaths and informally as bonds of affection or collegiality. these i champion and seek that people consider creating bonds of choice with those we might not consider. i seek consder that what i wish is cooperation and respect to come together for the purpose. Unity of purpose pursued freely.
Thanks to the freedom of choice, you are free to take others thoughts, giving them hearing and reject them or change your thoughts or actions as a result. The discomfort of a moment's consideration of a different perspective will rarely if ever damage one irrovocably. Knowledge is a gift of vellichor, not a disease
Unity of purpose or unity of choice is neither complete nor perfect but is the result of individuals retaining their thoughts and desires to accomplish common goals and common values. These are the foundation of arvani society codified formally as oaths and informally as bonds of affection or collegiality. these i champion and seek that people consider creating bonds of choice with those we might not consider. i seek consder that what i wish is cooperation and respect to come together for the purpose. Unity of purpose pursued freely.
Thanks to the freedom of choice, you are free to take others thoughts, giving them hearing and reject them or change your thoughts or actions as a result. The discomfort of a moment's consideration of a different perspective will rarely if ever damage one irrovocably. Knowledge is a gift of vellichor, not a disease
Written By Mirari
Dec. 1, 2021, 3:53 p.m.(9/2/1016 AR)
It is not the death of body that worries me but the slow withering of the soul, like a lush forest that is slowly drowned by the encroaching sea. The saddest endings are not the ones capped by the swift kiss of a knife but the compromises we make along the way until it is too little, too late.
Written By Lisebet
Dec. 1, 2021, 3:17 p.m.(9/2/1016 AR)
Today's tea is a lovely lavender lemon, one of my favourites. It's one I often enjoy, at any time of year. But I do particularly enjoy it, while I sit on my swing, with my children curled up beside me.
Please note that the scholars may take some time preparing your journal for others to read.