Written By Tesha
Dec. 23, 2023, 3:34 p.m.(6/5/1021 AR)
If I should die in the battle at Harrow Hall I would like the following things done:
My blacks are to remain sealed. Those are my own thoughts in dark times.
If it can be recovered, please return The Red Thorn back to my cousin Ansel. So that it may continue to serve as the Sword of our House.
If my body can be /safely/ recovered, please seek permission to have me buried in Cascade Springs.
Please sell my belongings and donate it to the Faith and other charities. I have no use for it if I am dead and I have no children or husband to leave them to.
Also, please tell my dearest brother-in-law that I love him and that it is not his fault.
My blacks are to remain sealed. Those are my own thoughts in dark times.
If it can be recovered, please return The Red Thorn back to my cousin Ansel. So that it may continue to serve as the Sword of our House.
If my body can be /safely/ recovered, please seek permission to have me buried in Cascade Springs.
Please sell my belongings and donate it to the Faith and other charities. I have no use for it if I am dead and I have no children or husband to leave them to.
Also, please tell my dearest brother-in-law that I love him and that it is not his fault.
Written By Valencia
Dec. 23, 2023, 3:34 p.m.(6/5/1021 AR)
We worked very hard to try to make fireweave available in the market so that all those who are going to battle might have more protection.
We were not as successful as we had hoped to be, but thanks the incredible efforts of the Archduke Patrizio of Pravus, Princess Ophelia of Velenosa, Princess Renata of Pravus and the Marquis Cadern of Blackwood we were able to secure enough fireweave to create a small but powerful collection of items to be loaned out to those who are working with Arvani fire or in need of extra protection for our upcoming battles.
In this way, we hope to help support as many fighters as possible as well as those who support them on the battlefield.
The Golden Hart will always rise to support the people of Arvani and the Compact now and in the future. And, as much as we had hoped to outfit more of people, this is a step in the right direction.
I am deeply grateful to all the members of the Golden Hart who made this happen.
Needless to say, if by some miracle we happen to come by more of this material, we will happily make more items available to those in need who are fighting for us and our future.
~~~~~~~~~~~<~<~<@
We were not as successful as we had hoped to be, but thanks the incredible efforts of the Archduke Patrizio of Pravus, Princess Ophelia of Velenosa, Princess Renata of Pravus and the Marquis Cadern of Blackwood we were able to secure enough fireweave to create a small but powerful collection of items to be loaned out to those who are working with Arvani fire or in need of extra protection for our upcoming battles.
In this way, we hope to help support as many fighters as possible as well as those who support them on the battlefield.
The Golden Hart will always rise to support the people of Arvani and the Compact now and in the future. And, as much as we had hoped to outfit more of people, this is a step in the right direction.
I am deeply grateful to all the members of the Golden Hart who made this happen.
Needless to say, if by some miracle we happen to come by more of this material, we will happily make more items available to those in need who are fighting for us and our future.
~~~~~~~~~~~<~<~<@
Written By Raven
Dec. 23, 2023, 3:13 p.m.(6/4/1021 AR)
I hope you choke on it you insecure man-child.
Written By Raymesin
Dec. 23, 2023, 2:05 p.m.(6/4/1021 AR)
We go to battle today, Scholar. I am as prepared as I will ever be, I think. Tanith and Austen know that I love them, but I belong to the Queen of Endings now. May I server Her well.
Written By Denica
Dec. 23, 2023, 1:26 p.m.(6/4/1021 AR)
Colours were meant to flow freely.
Written By Aconite
Dec. 23, 2023, 12:18 p.m.(6/4/1021 AR)
I witness them now, so vividly. The tales of people, I know and even those unknown, unfold before my eyes in radiant, glorious detail. It's crucial not to blink, Sisters, Brothers, Kin, and Kindred Spirits, lest we miss these moments. This is the forge where legends are born. As individuals scribe their farewells, chronicles, anthems, and parting words, it falls upon us, the observers, to Understand. To Recollect. To strive to break the cycle of history. To ensure that no sacrifice fades into obscurity and that those sacrifices gleam brightly to those in the present and future.
These narratives, these lives we witness, become ours to narrate when they cannot be told by the heroes themselves. Some will argue that this is not the case, that this is not what they are or what they meant to become or how people should think of them. Thankfully one becoming a hero isn't the choice of the actor but rather of the observer.
There was a time I misconstrued retreating from a battle one couldn't sway as a cowardly act. Now I comprehend better; the warriors on the battlefield exhibit courage, significance, and unquestionably, selflessness. Those of us entrusted to remember and safeguard the hearts and homes of the non-combatants must also embody bravery. Hearts will fracture, tears will cascade, but we bear a responsibility to persist, remember, and impart their stories.
Whatever comes I am ready to face it and for once in my life I know I am not alone.
These narratives, these lives we witness, become ours to narrate when they cannot be told by the heroes themselves. Some will argue that this is not the case, that this is not what they are or what they meant to become or how people should think of them. Thankfully one becoming a hero isn't the choice of the actor but rather of the observer.
There was a time I misconstrued retreating from a battle one couldn't sway as a cowardly act. Now I comprehend better; the warriors on the battlefield exhibit courage, significance, and unquestionably, selflessness. Those of us entrusted to remember and safeguard the hearts and homes of the non-combatants must also embody bravery. Hearts will fracture, tears will cascade, but we bear a responsibility to persist, remember, and impart their stories.
Whatever comes I am ready to face it and for once in my life I know I am not alone.
Written By Esme
Dec. 23, 2023, 11:34 a.m.(6/4/1021 AR)
I have no words for the steps I am about to take. I have found myself in deep contemplation on what words would be the right ones. What actions would be the correct ones. What sacrifices must we make on our oaths of fealty to protect those we have sworn to protect? There are times when it feels even the Gods hold their breath to see what we might do.
Regardless of the outcome, let it known to all dearest, that I am proud of you. That I serve the whole of our compact and I am astounded by how amazing each and every one of you are. Your talents. Your opportunities. The things that make you vastly wonderful as people. We are on the cusp of something big, but remember, there is nothing bigger than us. There is nothing that we cannot do. That we cannot survive.
If we must shed our tears, let those offering destruction to drown in the waves of them. If we are to burn down what we have constructed, let us rise from the ashes. If we are lost in doubt, let hope warm our hearts and lead us to direction.
What the next steps bring, know they are brought with honor, devotion, fealty, and love. We are all the concepts the Gods have taught and in that, we will continue to live on to the next sunrise before us.
Regardless of the outcome, let it known to all dearest, that I am proud of you. That I serve the whole of our compact and I am astounded by how amazing each and every one of you are. Your talents. Your opportunities. The things that make you vastly wonderful as people. We are on the cusp of something big, but remember, there is nothing bigger than us. There is nothing that we cannot do. That we cannot survive.
If we must shed our tears, let those offering destruction to drown in the waves of them. If we are to burn down what we have constructed, let us rise from the ashes. If we are lost in doubt, let hope warm our hearts and lead us to direction.
What the next steps bring, know they are brought with honor, devotion, fealty, and love. We are all the concepts the Gods have taught and in that, we will continue to live on to the next sunrise before us.
Written By Lucita
Dec. 23, 2023, 10:37 a.m.(6/4/1021 AR)
So many things are happening so quickly. I stand beside old friends, gradually making new ones and praying, hoping we all can remain steadfast in our beliefs, our determination and our courage. It is getting late, and my thoughts are rambling. Verses of the song I sang at Archlector Avary's rousing speech keep running through my head mixed with thoughts of my children, family. May we see each other again soon. I best put journal and quill aside and try to rest. Gods watch over us all.
Written By Skaldia
Dec. 23, 2023, 9:34 a.m.(6/4/1021 AR)
Today, we go to fight the Horned God. We will see what tomorrow brings.
Written By Ann
Dec. 23, 2023, 5:01 a.m.(6/4/1021 AR)
I remember the silent war and of course Stormwall. But this time it’s different. There’s more at stake. I’m fighting for freedom. For choice. For my family. For their future. Spirits bless us and be kind. Let us not forget the sacrifices already made. To the last!
Written By Sen'azala
Dec. 23, 2023, 1:40 a.m.(6/3/1021 AR)
I am *going to sleep now*.
Written By Sen'azala
Dec. 23, 2023, 1:35 a.m.(6/3/1021 AR)
F, S, I, M, T,
Now, I know I probably won't get to deliver this one, so I'm sending it along with a messenger before the sun rises, and trust it'll get where it needs to go.
You deserve to have had this written by other people. I know they would have if they could. It's just me though, so I'll try.
When I was told to leave home I was angry. Furious. I thought I'd lost my whole world again, and that wasn't a lie. I blamed the monster I always blamed, and that wasn't a lie either. I'm not going to tell you not to be *angry*. The thing about the world, though, is that if it keeps going, it keeps going, no matter what happens to the things and the people we care about. We can sit around and think about how cold that is - I sure as shit did - but when we're ready, we can build ours up again. You've got a lot of years ahead of you. You don't have to rush.
They cared about you. They loved you. I know you know that, but I'm putting it down anyway. They'd have said, so I'm saying it.
Your old home's still here. Hopefully I'm not cursing things and it'll stay that way. Don't come back too soon, though, because you need to realize you've outgrown it. There could have been a better way to say goodbye to it, but goodbyes are inevitable. Besides, it's a special place, but it's still just a place. Home's where you choose to stand.
With the mother you had? It's hard to imagine you'll ever end up choosing the wrong spot, so a lecture from me is probably pretty dumb.
Anyway, if I can, I'll come see you later.
Now, I know I probably won't get to deliver this one, so I'm sending it along with a messenger before the sun rises, and trust it'll get where it needs to go.
You deserve to have had this written by other people. I know they would have if they could. It's just me though, so I'll try.
When I was told to leave home I was angry. Furious. I thought I'd lost my whole world again, and that wasn't a lie. I blamed the monster I always blamed, and that wasn't a lie either. I'm not going to tell you not to be *angry*. The thing about the world, though, is that if it keeps going, it keeps going, no matter what happens to the things and the people we care about. We can sit around and think about how cold that is - I sure as shit did - but when we're ready, we can build ours up again. You've got a lot of years ahead of you. You don't have to rush.
They cared about you. They loved you. I know you know that, but I'm putting it down anyway. They'd have said, so I'm saying it.
Your old home's still here. Hopefully I'm not cursing things and it'll stay that way. Don't come back too soon, though, because you need to realize you've outgrown it. There could have been a better way to say goodbye to it, but goodbyes are inevitable. Besides, it's a special place, but it's still just a place. Home's where you choose to stand.
With the mother you had? It's hard to imagine you'll ever end up choosing the wrong spot, so a lecture from me is probably pretty dumb.
Anyway, if I can, I'll come see you later.
Written By Sen'azala
Dec. 23, 2023, 1:01 a.m.(6/3/1021 AR)
Mashti,
I'd ask if you understand why I still found my way here, but the truth is it wouldn't change things, and you always knew.
I should be sleeping, but I'm writing letters you might never see instead, like an idiot. If it's still possible after the world changes, I'll bring them to you, and I'll tell you everything you feel like being told. Everything. Every story. It feels like a whole lifetime, there's a lot to tell. I can't stay, but I'll find you, all of you, if you're still there to find, and I'll tell you that he's gone.
I'll tell you that you helped save the world.
But if it's me bringing them, if it's me telling you, then I'll tell you that you helped save me. I never forgot. Not for a single, solitary moment. I never will. I just get lost, now and then.
I love you.
There you are. I wrote it down. They don't let us rip up journals, so I can't pretend I didn't. I'll tell you if I find you. I'm not sure you realize that's what I said by leaving. I never would have otherwise, I would have haunted the tribe's steps forever. No one else could have convinced me to go. I knew my mother for a night, but you were the mother she must have hoped you would be.
There, I wrote that down too. I won't take it back.
I'd ask if you understand why I still found my way here, but the truth is it wouldn't change things, and you always knew.
I should be sleeping, but I'm writing letters you might never see instead, like an idiot. If it's still possible after the world changes, I'll bring them to you, and I'll tell you everything you feel like being told. Everything. Every story. It feels like a whole lifetime, there's a lot to tell. I can't stay, but I'll find you, all of you, if you're still there to find, and I'll tell you that he's gone.
I'll tell you that you helped save the world.
But if it's me bringing them, if it's me telling you, then I'll tell you that you helped save me. I never forgot. Not for a single, solitary moment. I never will. I just get lost, now and then.
I love you.
There you are. I wrote it down. They don't let us rip up journals, so I can't pretend I didn't. I'll tell you if I find you. I'm not sure you realize that's what I said by leaving. I never would have otherwise, I would have haunted the tribe's steps forever. No one else could have convinced me to go. I knew my mother for a night, but you were the mother she must have hoped you would be.
There, I wrote that down too. I won't take it back.
Written By Sen'azala
Dec. 23, 2023, 12:34 a.m.(6/3/1021 AR)
Shara,
This city is full of artists. They've got whole galleries, and the Hall of Heroes is full of statues. There's a fucking enormous cathedral full of colored glass, and murals are common. People will paint or sketch a picture of you in the market sometimes, and it's cheap, but probably because they've got to rush it, and none of the street painters are as good at it as you.
There's a place called the Shrine of the First Choice, and in the back, the inner sanctum, someone I know painted an entire wall with something that reminds me of you. If you saw it, you'd understand.
You were right, and so was I.
This city is full of artists. They've got whole galleries, and the Hall of Heroes is full of statues. There's a fucking enormous cathedral full of colored glass, and murals are common. People will paint or sketch a picture of you in the market sometimes, and it's cheap, but probably because they've got to rush it, and none of the street painters are as good at it as you.
There's a place called the Shrine of the First Choice, and in the back, the inner sanctum, someone I know painted an entire wall with something that reminds me of you. If you saw it, you'd understand.
You were right, and so was I.
Written By Titus
Dec. 22, 2023, 8:03 p.m.(6/3/1021 AR)
And then what?
Written By Lucita
Dec. 21, 2023, 9:56 a.m.(5/28/1021 AR)
Being here in the camp beside Harrow Hall brings back so many memories of the time at Setarco. All the tents, the colorful banners, the sounds of the last minute weapon training and drills, wood being chopped to make a camp perimeter defense, the scents of the cooking, sweaty soldiers, the horses and livestock. So much is going on that it is organized chaos. With me not attached to any particular group, my time is spent trying to stay out of the way and drifting between campfires, tent clusters, and work groups singing or playing songs to boost morale.
Written By Caspian
Dec. 20, 2023, 1:53 p.m.(5/26/1021 AR)
Relationship Note on Jeffeth
In a realm of shadows and whispers untold,
Lived a big man named Jeffeth, brave and bold.
With friends in tow, through the mist they'd roam,
Hunting a ghost, far from their home.
Oh, Jeffeth and friends, with courage so true,
Seeking a specter, a ghostly hue.
But what they found in the glen empty and mild,
Was a moose, not a ghost, untamed and wild!
No ordinary moose, but a creature so rare,
White as the snow, with a chilling stare.
Red eyes gleaming, a spectral delight,
Crashing into the glen, causing a fright.
Oh, Jeffeth and friends, with courage so true,
Seeking a specter, a ghostly hue.
But what they found in the glen empty and mild,
Was a moose, not a ghost, untamed and wild!
Snorting and huffing, the moose made its stand,
Charging at the group, across the land.
Spears, bows, and knives, they brandished high,
As they scrambled away, beneath the sky.
Oh, Jeffeth and friends, with courage so true,
Seeking a specter, a ghostly hue.
But what they found in the glen empty and mild,
Was a moose, not a ghost, untamed and wild!
In the chaos and fray, Jeffeth took command,
He saw what was needed, a plan so grand.
Raising his hand, with a gleam in his eye,
A godly smackdown, as the moose drew nigh.
Oh, Jeffeth and friends, with courage so true,
Seeking a specter, a ghostly hue.
But what they found in the glen empty and mild,
Was a moose, not a ghost, untamed and wild!
The slap was so mighty, it echoed with glee,
The moose laid low, from the godly decree.
Yet, such was the force, with a twist of fate,
Jeffeth's own hand slapped him, oh, what a state!
Oh, Jeffeth and friends, with courage so true,
Seeking a specter, a ghostly hue.
But what they found in the glen empty and mild,
Was a moose, not a ghost, untamed and wild!
So ends the tale of Jeffeth so grand,
In a haunted glen, in a distant land.
A moose mistaken for a ghostly deer,
A godly smackdown, that's Jeffeth's frontier!
Lived a big man named Jeffeth, brave and bold.
With friends in tow, through the mist they'd roam,
Hunting a ghost, far from their home.
Oh, Jeffeth and friends, with courage so true,
Seeking a specter, a ghostly hue.
But what they found in the glen empty and mild,
Was a moose, not a ghost, untamed and wild!
No ordinary moose, but a creature so rare,
White as the snow, with a chilling stare.
Red eyes gleaming, a spectral delight,
Crashing into the glen, causing a fright.
Oh, Jeffeth and friends, with courage so true,
Seeking a specter, a ghostly hue.
But what they found in the glen empty and mild,
Was a moose, not a ghost, untamed and wild!
Snorting and huffing, the moose made its stand,
Charging at the group, across the land.
Spears, bows, and knives, they brandished high,
As they scrambled away, beneath the sky.
Oh, Jeffeth and friends, with courage so true,
Seeking a specter, a ghostly hue.
But what they found in the glen empty and mild,
Was a moose, not a ghost, untamed and wild!
In the chaos and fray, Jeffeth took command,
He saw what was needed, a plan so grand.
Raising his hand, with a gleam in his eye,
A godly smackdown, as the moose drew nigh.
Oh, Jeffeth and friends, with courage so true,
Seeking a specter, a ghostly hue.
But what they found in the glen empty and mild,
Was a moose, not a ghost, untamed and wild!
The slap was so mighty, it echoed with glee,
The moose laid low, from the godly decree.
Yet, such was the force, with a twist of fate,
Jeffeth's own hand slapped him, oh, what a state!
Oh, Jeffeth and friends, with courage so true,
Seeking a specter, a ghostly hue.
But what they found in the glen empty and mild,
Was a moose, not a ghost, untamed and wild!
So ends the tale of Jeffeth so grand,
In a haunted glen, in a distant land.
A moose mistaken for a ghostly deer,
A godly smackdown, that's Jeffeth's frontier!
Written By Quenia
Dec. 20, 2023, 8:46 a.m.(5/26/1021 AR)
It has been much too long since I have penned anything within the Whites. I feel remiss in not having done so. And, in this instance, I feel I must remedy that. There's a very good chance that I might die in the battle to come.
This battle will won't just be for the people of Arvum. It'll be for the safety of the world. The menace that we will be fighting has delusions of making himself a God and waking destiny to put everyone on the path that /he/ wishes us to follow, binding the entire world to his whim in unbreakable chains. He must be stopped at all costs.
I have seen this menace at work, through a shared dream with others. I have seen how he operates. He is nothing short of a coward, choosing to use other people to complete his tasks, to guard him while he does nefarious things to harm others time and time again. He is no god and if he is not stopped before he completes his ritual, we all face Eternal enslavement.
So, with that regard, as a person who means to stop him at any costs, I lay down my Will in the whites for all to see.
I hereby, in good faith and mind, declare that upon my death that Lord Luis Igniseri be named as Marquis of House Igniseri, and his children as the heirs to House Igniseri. I trust that he will find the people he needs to help him become the best steward possible of our House's legacy.
That all silver and resources in my accounts be placed in stewardship of House Igniseri, where I usually place such funds when I do not have a personal need.
That my wardrobe and jewelry be divided between all of my cousins and Lady Juliana.
My weapons and armor to be saved for the children of House Igniseri until they can find a time to make use of it themselves.
All of my books be donated into the keeping of the Archlector Oswyn Spencer to be reviewed and placed within the confines of the Great Library so that others may make use of them in their pursuit of knowledge.
So it is written, by my hand,
Marquessa Quenia igniseri
This battle will won't just be for the people of Arvum. It'll be for the safety of the world. The menace that we will be fighting has delusions of making himself a God and waking destiny to put everyone on the path that /he/ wishes us to follow, binding the entire world to his whim in unbreakable chains. He must be stopped at all costs.
I have seen this menace at work, through a shared dream with others. I have seen how he operates. He is nothing short of a coward, choosing to use other people to complete his tasks, to guard him while he does nefarious things to harm others time and time again. He is no god and if he is not stopped before he completes his ritual, we all face Eternal enslavement.
So, with that regard, as a person who means to stop him at any costs, I lay down my Will in the whites for all to see.
I hereby, in good faith and mind, declare that upon my death that Lord Luis Igniseri be named as Marquis of House Igniseri, and his children as the heirs to House Igniseri. I trust that he will find the people he needs to help him become the best steward possible of our House's legacy.
That all silver and resources in my accounts be placed in stewardship of House Igniseri, where I usually place such funds when I do not have a personal need.
That my wardrobe and jewelry be divided between all of my cousins and Lady Juliana.
My weapons and armor to be saved for the children of House Igniseri until they can find a time to make use of it themselves.
All of my books be donated into the keeping of the Archlector Oswyn Spencer to be reviewed and placed within the confines of the Great Library so that others may make use of them in their pursuit of knowledge.
So it is written, by my hand,
Marquessa Quenia igniseri
Written By Duarte
Dec. 20, 2023, 5:31 a.m.(5/26/1021 AR)
The light casts a shadow! An outline of you.
Its darkened hue a more fitting image of your soul,
unlike the lightened facade of your make-up which provides just a shield of gossamer before your tortured gaze.
And I dreamt of you!
A vision of perfection that could never be attained.
With every daring grasp you floated further into a dreary distance - a sticky dark that would never end
Evil? No.
To be evil is to attend, and you are ever absent.
A true mystery of a woman who finds comfort and mirth in solitude.
Whose only love is the macabre tales of a world in which you play no role.
To know you - fully - is to attain a loneliness that cannot be described.
And to hold a foolish desire that can never be fulfilled.
And still, I yield, and wait.
For the contrast of your soul against mine brings me the most powerful gift the gods have given to men:
hope.
Its darkened hue a more fitting image of your soul,
unlike the lightened facade of your make-up which provides just a shield of gossamer before your tortured gaze.
And I dreamt of you!
A vision of perfection that could never be attained.
With every daring grasp you floated further into a dreary distance - a sticky dark that would never end
Evil? No.
To be evil is to attend, and you are ever absent.
A true mystery of a woman who finds comfort and mirth in solitude.
Whose only love is the macabre tales of a world in which you play no role.
To know you - fully - is to attain a loneliness that cannot be described.
And to hold a foolish desire that can never be fulfilled.
And still, I yield, and wait.
For the contrast of your soul against mine brings me the most powerful gift the gods have given to men:
hope.
Written By Duarte
Dec. 20, 2023, 5 a.m.(5/26/1021 AR)
Journal
I never met Costas again after that night at the cemetery and for good reasons. The first of which, put simply, was I didn't need to. If my time serving in Setarco had taught me anything, it was that assessment was everything. The Lyceum holds no dearth of scandal, but none do scandal quite like Pravus. And the thing to know about scandal is that it is rarely, if ever, what is on the surface. It is a mirage, or it is a smokescreen. The thing not to do about it is to confront it head-on. Rather, the thing to do is step around it. And a man like Costas is easy to step around.
And in the way a sweater unravels when you pull a loose thread, so did his machinations. Except - it was a very tiny sweater. It followed a narrative all too common: a scorned lover using political strife as a canvas for revenge. Propelled by the ruins of a romance within House Pravus, Costas pursued a vendetta leveraging his lofty position in House Malvici to pit Duchess Calypso against Belladonna. His overindulgence in this one-sided feud became apparent when I noticed he had positioned one of his closest intelligence men close to a cousin of the Duchess.
Mercurial in tone and brooding, with emotions sewn into the sleeves of his shirt - the important thing to find about such a man is where his affections lie. And then you don't get close to the man, you get close to his heart.
Writ large, this was the ploy: in open-air public with open seating - there was no question about whom I was meeting and the apparent nature of my meetings. I wasn't even subtle about it. I like to think I drove him mad by simply shmoozing, but the truth is I did nothing to the man. I asked after him not, I watched him not, I conspired against him not. I merely met and spoke with people I found he would rather I not meet or speak with.
And sure as the day is long, Costas brought about his own downfall - swift and self-inflicted. Trapped in a love triangle with two disparate lovers, his actions led to an irrecoverable blunder -- the murder of a heretic named Esra who he slayed with the Malvici heirloom sword. This act marked his exit from his position, the political stage, and public life.
But by then my attention was already drawn to a more enigmatic and unsetting presence - the Eater of Stories. It was a mystery that would shake the very foundations of my reality as I closed in on the identity of this foe and it would change the course of my life for a decade.
The investigation, at first, seemed a path like any other I had walked. But the further I delved the more I felt the sense of "eyes on". (You know what that feels like. Everyone does.) But here it crept into my bones, this insidious feeling. An oppressive sensation of being watched - being scrutinized. I seemed shadowed by mysterious persons leaving me with a constant sense of unease and a looming, all-consuming dread.
It was in this process that I met Orathy Culler - an unexpected ally. A man of the Lower Boroughs, yet sworn to House Pravus, he was a well of information and streetwise savvy. Hired once for a simple task, his presence in matters of interest became ubiquitous. Orland by now had left for Bravura to manage affairs. I had Orathy in his stead.
My nights grew restless and sleep evaded me for days on end. And then came the "dream" - an odyssey of such vivid terror that it left me questioning the boundaries of nightmare and reality. I entered a labyrinth with undulating floors and impossible geometry. Before me were doorways stretching to a distant horizon - never-ending. In this infinite space, I felt closed in. Then mouths began to open. The lines of the walls, floorboards, and door frames became horribly twisted maws of sharpened teeth. They laughed and mocked me in discordant unison, chastising me for drawing its attention and challenging me to say its name. Was it a threat, or an invitation? To this day I don't know.
I did whatever I could to free my mind from this haunting terror. I confided the dream and revelations to Orathy and in many ways, his rough exterior and straightforward manner became a grounding force in the increasingly bizarre turn my life had taken. My interactions with Lianne remained sparse and strained. The unspoken chasm between us only widened by the thing that now pursued me. We became like passing strangers in shared halls.
Something was not right in this city and it seemed everyone with whom I spoke knew of it except for me. As if for me there was a grand secret being kept for my own good, I felt like a child.
But even as a child, I was always good at finding secrets.
I never met Costas again after that night at the cemetery and for good reasons. The first of which, put simply, was I didn't need to. If my time serving in Setarco had taught me anything, it was that assessment was everything. The Lyceum holds no dearth of scandal, but none do scandal quite like Pravus. And the thing to know about scandal is that it is rarely, if ever, what is on the surface. It is a mirage, or it is a smokescreen. The thing not to do about it is to confront it head-on. Rather, the thing to do is step around it. And a man like Costas is easy to step around.
And in the way a sweater unravels when you pull a loose thread, so did his machinations. Except - it was a very tiny sweater. It followed a narrative all too common: a scorned lover using political strife as a canvas for revenge. Propelled by the ruins of a romance within House Pravus, Costas pursued a vendetta leveraging his lofty position in House Malvici to pit Duchess Calypso against Belladonna. His overindulgence in this one-sided feud became apparent when I noticed he had positioned one of his closest intelligence men close to a cousin of the Duchess.
Mercurial in tone and brooding, with emotions sewn into the sleeves of his shirt - the important thing to find about such a man is where his affections lie. And then you don't get close to the man, you get close to his heart.
Writ large, this was the ploy: in open-air public with open seating - there was no question about whom I was meeting and the apparent nature of my meetings. I wasn't even subtle about it. I like to think I drove him mad by simply shmoozing, but the truth is I did nothing to the man. I asked after him not, I watched him not, I conspired against him not. I merely met and spoke with people I found he would rather I not meet or speak with.
And sure as the day is long, Costas brought about his own downfall - swift and self-inflicted. Trapped in a love triangle with two disparate lovers, his actions led to an irrecoverable blunder -- the murder of a heretic named Esra who he slayed with the Malvici heirloom sword. This act marked his exit from his position, the political stage, and public life.
But by then my attention was already drawn to a more enigmatic and unsetting presence - the Eater of Stories. It was a mystery that would shake the very foundations of my reality as I closed in on the identity of this foe and it would change the course of my life for a decade.
The investigation, at first, seemed a path like any other I had walked. But the further I delved the more I felt the sense of "eyes on". (You know what that feels like. Everyone does.) But here it crept into my bones, this insidious feeling. An oppressive sensation of being watched - being scrutinized. I seemed shadowed by mysterious persons leaving me with a constant sense of unease and a looming, all-consuming dread.
It was in this process that I met Orathy Culler - an unexpected ally. A man of the Lower Boroughs, yet sworn to House Pravus, he was a well of information and streetwise savvy. Hired once for a simple task, his presence in matters of interest became ubiquitous. Orland by now had left for Bravura to manage affairs. I had Orathy in his stead.
My nights grew restless and sleep evaded me for days on end. And then came the "dream" - an odyssey of such vivid terror that it left me questioning the boundaries of nightmare and reality. I entered a labyrinth with undulating floors and impossible geometry. Before me were doorways stretching to a distant horizon - never-ending. In this infinite space, I felt closed in. Then mouths began to open. The lines of the walls, floorboards, and door frames became horribly twisted maws of sharpened teeth. They laughed and mocked me in discordant unison, chastising me for drawing its attention and challenging me to say its name. Was it a threat, or an invitation? To this day I don't know.
I did whatever I could to free my mind from this haunting terror. I confided the dream and revelations to Orathy and in many ways, his rough exterior and straightforward manner became a grounding force in the increasingly bizarre turn my life had taken. My interactions with Lianne remained sparse and strained. The unspoken chasm between us only widened by the thing that now pursued me. We became like passing strangers in shared halls.
Something was not right in this city and it seemed everyone with whom I spoke knew of it except for me. As if for me there was a grand secret being kept for my own good, I felt like a child.
But even as a child, I was always good at finding secrets.
Please note that the scholars may take some time preparing your journal for others to read.