Written By Sigurd
Jan. 26, 2017, 12:13 p.m.(10/7/1005 AR)
{From a visit to the suite of Sigurd Nightgold}
Come closer, scholar. Do not mind the dark, I prefer it tonight...Hmm? Not, I do not need a fire. We are used to the chill, it helps build character, or at least that is the excuse we use.
Do you see this? It's a thread. So very simple, isn't it? And so very much like us. So very thin and fragile by itself, weaving in and out of other threads, bonding to form new ones, together weaving this enormous tapestry. It is..Remarkable, when I sit and consider it. And much like such strands of thread, it is so easy for us to fray. To be cut short. Or to simply end, in the span and timing of the grand design. I sit here, this strand in one hand, and my bottle in the other, and I think of the hundreds of threads I have seen cut. Little tears and rips in the design. My fault, many of them. Or my design. Or do I fool myself into thinking that? Is any of it really my choice?
Will my thread bond to another and produce more strands? A thread is flexible, but in the end, so much of its journey is determined by others. Another thread may tangle with it for some time and then stray away again. Or may brush, and then fade. Or they may be joined together and become stronger, the different colors melding into each other to form something that would never have happened separately. Sometimes this is hard. The two threads can be so different in texture and color and shape that at first they seem to chafe, or to be doomed to form an inferior design and be pulled apart, each content to their own fine design. And sometimes this happens. But sometimes..Something new and very exciting is made, each part unique and complimenting the other. Equals made one new equation. Only time may tell..Well, time and the current market for luxury textiles.
So many threads. So many cut short, each one an infinity of potential new strands throughout the design. Now nothing. Damn this war we must fight.
Leave me, scholar. Leave me to my drinks, and my thoughts.
Come closer, scholar. Do not mind the dark, I prefer it tonight...Hmm? Not, I do not need a fire. We are used to the chill, it helps build character, or at least that is the excuse we use.
Do you see this? It's a thread. So very simple, isn't it? And so very much like us. So very thin and fragile by itself, weaving in and out of other threads, bonding to form new ones, together weaving this enormous tapestry. It is..Remarkable, when I sit and consider it. And much like such strands of thread, it is so easy for us to fray. To be cut short. Or to simply end, in the span and timing of the grand design. I sit here, this strand in one hand, and my bottle in the other, and I think of the hundreds of threads I have seen cut. Little tears and rips in the design. My fault, many of them. Or my design. Or do I fool myself into thinking that? Is any of it really my choice?
Will my thread bond to another and produce more strands? A thread is flexible, but in the end, so much of its journey is determined by others. Another thread may tangle with it for some time and then stray away again. Or may brush, and then fade. Or they may be joined together and become stronger, the different colors melding into each other to form something that would never have happened separately. Sometimes this is hard. The two threads can be so different in texture and color and shape that at first they seem to chafe, or to be doomed to form an inferior design and be pulled apart, each content to their own fine design. And sometimes this happens. But sometimes..Something new and very exciting is made, each part unique and complimenting the other. Equals made one new equation. Only time may tell..Well, time and the current market for luxury textiles.
So many threads. So many cut short, each one an infinity of potential new strands throughout the design. Now nothing. Damn this war we must fight.
Leave me, scholar. Leave me to my drinks, and my thoughts.
Written By Felix
Jan. 26, 2017, 11:29 a.m.(10/7/1005 AR)
Relationship Note on Leona
While I am suprised by this bit of news of you stepping down, I can do nothing but respect and support your decision. It's a braver thing to reflect and be honest with oneself. You are a woman of admirable character and though we have not spoken in some time, I wish you all of the best in your future endeavors.
Written By Branan
Jan. 26, 2017, 10:54 a.m.(10/7/1005 AR)
On his death-bed poor Lubin lies:
His spouse is in despair:
With frequent sobs, and mutual cries,
They both express their care.
A different cause, says Legate Sly,
The same effect may give:
Poor Lubin fears that he may die;
His wife, that he may live.
His spouse is in despair:
With frequent sobs, and mutual cries,
They both express their care.
A different cause, says Legate Sly,
The same effect may give:
Poor Lubin fears that he may die;
His wife, that he may live.
Written By Samantha
Jan. 26, 2017, 10:46 a.m.(10/7/1005 AR)
Apparently I have tread upon the toes of the Faith by way of the establishment and my work with the Ministry of Civil Development. I am arrogant for assuming that the established programs of the Faith might not be ideal in its functioning and that Crown sponsored programs to improve the lives of the people of Arvum might be able to improve people's lives. The Faith has lasted a thousand years, and if a regime change saw fit, they could disband the Ministry with a word, leaving our programs hanging and lost to the people who depend upon them.
I just want to use the power I have to do right by this world and our people.
I just want to use the power I have to do right by this world and our people.
Written By Audric
Jan. 26, 2017, 4:14 a.m.(10/6/1005 AR)
Good evening, journal.
Do you think it's as lovely an atmosphere as I do? Everyone is so very tense, they're all in such need of a joke, and I'm more than willing to deliver those jokes. Sometimes, after all, even I just want to make people laugh. But I digress - things are tense, and that's when the best business is done. And for those of you who are reading this: Yes, the Few are for hire. We are trained to kill nightmares, and we're good at it. We have specialists in nearly everything, and we meet it with a laugh and a drink. What's the point in living, after all, if you can't look the end of the world in the face, laugh, throw an insult, and go down fighting? I do love a good last stand.
Do you think it's as lovely an atmosphere as I do? Everyone is so very tense, they're all in such need of a joke, and I'm more than willing to deliver those jokes. Sometimes, after all, even I just want to make people laugh. But I digress - things are tense, and that's when the best business is done. And for those of you who are reading this: Yes, the Few are for hire. We are trained to kill nightmares, and we're good at it. We have specialists in nearly everything, and we meet it with a laugh and a drink. What's the point in living, after all, if you can't look the end of the world in the face, laugh, throw an insult, and go down fighting? I do love a good last stand.
Written By Inigo
Jan. 26, 2017, 3:11 a.m.(10/6/1005 AR)
The gathering storm is on the horizon and we're beginning to sense it's ominous power...
Written By Max
Jan. 26, 2017, 3:07 a.m.(10/6/1005 AR)
Don't insult a man.
Then ask for his help with your business ventures.
It's not good business.
Then ask for his help with your business ventures.
It's not good business.
Written By Larissa
Jan. 25, 2017, 11:55 p.m.(10/6/1005 AR)
Tonight we hosted our first fashion show and I was so happy with the outcome. I could not have been more proud of my House in that moment. The Whispers were beautiful and alluring in every gown they showed off and the dresses were each a true inspiration of Jayus. Each designer made a beautiful dress especially for the show and Guildmaster Joscelin worked in a piece of jewelry for each, despite feeling under the weather. I am so honored to have been a part of such a beautiful collaboration of minds and bodies and artistry. Praise Jayus!
Written By Percephon
Jan. 25, 2017, 11:30 p.m.(10/6/1005 AR)
To help create a diversion for myself among items that are of far more serious consequence, I've taken to experimenting with alchemy in the creation of perfumes. I thought it wise to document a few of my findings from my test subject, who shall remain nameless, mostly because I enjoy not being full of dagger holes.
Extreme care must be taken in the preparation of the mixtures: one wrong element or stray oil on your materials can lead to severe consequences. It did not take long for the rash to appear upon her wrists. I'm really not certain why she was so irate about this fact, as I did warn her that it was a possibility. Given that the more severe possibility I posed was her throat swelling shut, truly, I'd thought she would have been relieved. Still, I am glad to report that based upon this feedback, my methods of preparation have been improved, and a subsequent result of this type has not been experienced.
The other observation of note is that, at least with this test subject, one must read between the lines. She said she'd be happy to take something for the rash if it wouldn't smell bad. What I gave her, if I might say, smelled divine. I then received a note with a... colorful description of her feelings about why her skin was now a bright pink, swearing anyone with eyes could see her from a distance in even the darkest of nights. She didn't say it had to look good, after all!
Still... I eagerly await to see what happens with the next batch.
Extreme care must be taken in the preparation of the mixtures: one wrong element or stray oil on your materials can lead to severe consequences. It did not take long for the rash to appear upon her wrists. I'm really not certain why she was so irate about this fact, as I did warn her that it was a possibility. Given that the more severe possibility I posed was her throat swelling shut, truly, I'd thought she would have been relieved. Still, I am glad to report that based upon this feedback, my methods of preparation have been improved, and a subsequent result of this type has not been experienced.
The other observation of note is that, at least with this test subject, one must read between the lines. She said she'd be happy to take something for the rash if it wouldn't smell bad. What I gave her, if I might say, smelled divine. I then received a note with a... colorful description of her feelings about why her skin was now a bright pink, swearing anyone with eyes could see her from a distance in even the darkest of nights. She didn't say it had to look good, after all!
Still... I eagerly await to see what happens with the next batch.
Written By Ainsley
Jan. 25, 2017, 11:30 p.m.(10/6/1005 AR)
I almost find myself missing the apples, now that they have stopped appearing...
Written By Ainsley
Jan. 25, 2017, 11:27 p.m.(10/6/1005 AR)
More training. I need to keep training.
Written By Lianne
Jan. 25, 2017, 11:02 p.m.(10/6/1005 AR)
Archscholar,
I completed my service with the Silent Reflections at the Shrine of the Thirteenth some weeks ago. The lesson was plain enough, a clear demonstration of the very real consequences of breaking this particular oath. Yet, I have hesitated to inform you. The task has felt unresolved, as if there were more I was not quite seeing.
Then, last week, I betrayed the trust of a friend. I violated a promise I made, believing the circumstances exceptional. It is a pattern I have seen repeated in recent months, in breaches of trust among friends and lovers, in breaches of faith among those who would protect us. Wherever there is a rule, we think ourselves wise enough to judge what merits exception. Yet, no matter the exceptional cirumstances, no matter our best intentions, oaths stand broken, trust remains betrayed.
This, for me, seems the more relevant lesson. It is one thing to know the consequences and another to understand that they will always apply, that no matter intentions or conditions: a breach of oath is a breach of oath. This is what I will carry with me.
Lady Lianne Pravus
I completed my service with the Silent Reflections at the Shrine of the Thirteenth some weeks ago. The lesson was plain enough, a clear demonstration of the very real consequences of breaking this particular oath. Yet, I have hesitated to inform you. The task has felt unresolved, as if there were more I was not quite seeing.
Then, last week, I betrayed the trust of a friend. I violated a promise I made, believing the circumstances exceptional. It is a pattern I have seen repeated in recent months, in breaches of trust among friends and lovers, in breaches of faith among those who would protect us. Wherever there is a rule, we think ourselves wise enough to judge what merits exception. Yet, no matter the exceptional cirumstances, no matter our best intentions, oaths stand broken, trust remains betrayed.
This, for me, seems the more relevant lesson. It is one thing to know the consequences and another to understand that they will always apply, that no matter intentions or conditions: a breach of oath is a breach of oath. This is what I will carry with me.
Lady Lianne Pravus
Written By Ainsley
Jan. 25, 2017, 10:53 p.m.(10/6/1005 AR)
Relationship Note on Lark
No one scares me or makes me prouder to be a Grayson than Princess Lark. I'm always humbled by her strength.
Written By Serafine
Jan. 25, 2017, 8:53 p.m.(10/5/1005 AR)
Post Script: Jiacamo is here to stay! Yes! Oh, the trouble he used to save me from-
....-right head, ow.
....-right head, ow.
Written By Serafine
Jan. 25, 2017, 8:52 p.m.(10/5/1005 AR)
Valery the Miracle Worker sent me something for my head. It helped. Oh it did.
Also note to self: I need more dresses.
-don't look at me like that, whippersnapper, I've made bowel movements bigger than you. -TODAY-.
Serafine Velenosa has a right to wear silky frippery as much as the next princess, thank you. These days my only problem is keeping them away from my sister, dresses disappear when she's around, and not in the fun way.
...yes, I'm going to go lay down again.
Also note to self: I need more dresses.
-don't look at me like that, whippersnapper, I've made bowel movements bigger than you. -TODAY-.
Serafine Velenosa has a right to wear silky frippery as much as the next princess, thank you. These days my only problem is keeping them away from my sister, dresses disappear when she's around, and not in the fun way.
...yes, I'm going to go lay down again.
Written By Mydas
Jan. 25, 2017, 8:45 p.m.(10/5/1005 AR)
As war draws near, many would focus their every effort in military feats of arms, in focus of strategies and tactics of the battlefield, and dismiss other preoccupations such as trade and economy. To do so is a grave mistake. I do not put such efforts in keeping trade flowing strong because I do not care of the war's outcome. That would simply be foolish. I, like many like-minded individuals, see that if we are to win this war, our economy must not falter. For how else are we to arm our soldiers? How else can we equip them with strong armour? How else can we give them healthy horses? How else can we feed, clothe and keep them healthy? All these things have costs, often great. A nation who lets its economy fall on the wayside would be able to afford none of these things, and would therefore be annihilated.
This is why we must still talk of trade. This is why we must still innovate and invest. For without the wealth we now pour in ensuring our survival, we would be facing our enemies armed with sticks and stones. Let us not forget that merchants, diplomats, thinkers and scholars, are just as important in protecting us from the coming threat, as the brave soldiers who'll be holding the line. For indeed, if we do our job properly, there'll be a lot less soldiers dying needlessly.
This is why we must still talk of trade. This is why we must still innovate and invest. For without the wealth we now pour in ensuring our survival, we would be facing our enemies armed with sticks and stones. Let us not forget that merchants, diplomats, thinkers and scholars, are just as important in protecting us from the coming threat, as the brave soldiers who'll be holding the line. For indeed, if we do our job properly, there'll be a lot less soldiers dying needlessly.
Written By Eirene
Jan. 25, 2017, 5:03 p.m.(10/5/1005 AR)
I always get worried when I send my ladies and lads out on a real assignment; above and beyond the standard -make sure nobody's dying- mission. The kind where there are hostile Shavs, or bandits, or pirates.. the kind where I might have to write a 'It is with deepest sorrow and regret that I must inform you'. I'm the kind of person who will personally write out the letters to the family of the dead. I hate doing it. That is why I will do everything in my power to prevent those kind of letters from being written. That is why I became a medic in the first place.
If any of my ladies or lads gets turned into a Bringer, I'll lay them low myself and say the damn prayers to set them at peace; hopefully someone will listen.
If any of my ladies or lads gets turned into a Bringer, I'll lay them low myself and say the damn prayers to set them at peace; hopefully someone will listen.
Written By Bethany
Jan. 25, 2017, 4 p.m.(10/5/1005 AR)
Now that I have started to dabble in other botanical studies completely unrelated to tea and perfume --
I need to start a better organizational system in the shop.
Or someone is going to get terribly ill.
I need to start a better organizational system in the shop.
Or someone is going to get terribly ill.
Written By Serafine
Jan. 25, 2017, 2:36 p.m.(10/5/1005 AR)
what the fucking fuck was in that stuff we drank oh my good fucking gods and why is the sun so loud and what the fuck does my mouth taste like cherry-flavored Bringer butthole-
Written By Harald
Jan. 25, 2017, 1:55 p.m.(10/5/1005 AR)
It seems the Bringers south of Arx are moving to join their strength with the northern host near Pridehall, relieving pressure on the Ashford borders. A pity, foes divided make easier marks. Instead, we may have one of these great set-piece battles the mainland knights so love.
All speak with great reverence for this Gabriel Bisland, Duke of Pridehall and general of the Compact. I expect he is a master of knightly warfare, of flanks, charges, and logistics; of moving pieces as if on the chessboard.
I wonder if he is more than that. I look forward to seeing his quality.
Great battles make for pretty stories and famous songs, but there is little middle ground in a lost battle. To hazard all on a single clash of arms is brave, but dangerous.
There are few knights and fewer cavaliers in the Mourning Isles. Our way of war is not a cult of chivalry, but a cult of victory. Whether the foe is broken in single combat or by starvation after his fields were burnt matters little. When the clearest path to victory is a charge, there is no blood-mad berserk or gallant knight who will howl into the melee with more spirit than we. There is no fear of death in battle among us, but woe to he that spends his strength poorly.
The knight's lance, the reaver's torch, the traitor's knife: all are weapons that will be cast at the unwary. Still, I haven't grown so old that all of the luster has faded from the direct honesty of a headlong, howling charge to sieze victory with a bloody fist.
Gods favor the brave.
All speak with great reverence for this Gabriel Bisland, Duke of Pridehall and general of the Compact. I expect he is a master of knightly warfare, of flanks, charges, and logistics; of moving pieces as if on the chessboard.
I wonder if he is more than that. I look forward to seeing his quality.
Great battles make for pretty stories and famous songs, but there is little middle ground in a lost battle. To hazard all on a single clash of arms is brave, but dangerous.
There are few knights and fewer cavaliers in the Mourning Isles. Our way of war is not a cult of chivalry, but a cult of victory. Whether the foe is broken in single combat or by starvation after his fields were burnt matters little. When the clearest path to victory is a charge, there is no blood-mad berserk or gallant knight who will howl into the melee with more spirit than we. There is no fear of death in battle among us, but woe to he that spends his strength poorly.
The knight's lance, the reaver's torch, the traitor's knife: all are weapons that will be cast at the unwary. Still, I haven't grown so old that all of the luster has faded from the direct honesty of a headlong, howling charge to sieze victory with a bloody fist.
Gods favor the brave.
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