Written By Preston
Jan. 23, 2017, 3:31 a.m.(9/25/1005 AR)
Relationship Note on Lark
I, child, wake every morning in the Barracks of the Rectory, upon a cot, owning nothing but my small-clothes and incidentals. I own a backpack, a chest, and a piece of cheese of a certain brand I am fond of. I have one vice, that of imported darkwater coffee, and I admit to indulging into it every few days.
I give the whole of my life to the service of the Faith: I train those who are weak, I speak for the poor, I help those in need. That is my life. I challenge you, little princess, to live a life as humble as I, with not so much as a bedroom of my own.
Yes, the Faith arms the Templar: and I am one of those very few chosen to guard the Dominus himself from time to time, so my arms are admirable. But I do not own them. When I give my life for the Faith, which I will do, mu armor and my sword -- if it can be recovered -- will pass to another godsworn servant of the Holy Knights of the Temple.
Does the Faith arm me? Yes! Absolutely. For I am sworn to give my life for the protection of the people.
You, silly child, try to turn the defense of Arvum and the Faithful as if it were some sort of indulgence. Lies drip from your royal lips, scion of Grayson. Spend one month within the Rectory's barracks-- after you have atoned your sins-- and know the life of the Templar, and you will know we do not live in anything like luxury, that we do not care for gold.
The Holy Knights of the Temple are the shield and sword against the darkness: we live and endure for the Faith to survive.
You are right, Princess Graydon. Receipts do not lie. They tell a specific story for me: of a man devoted to the Faith preparing to fight the darkness and supported by the Faithful to ready him to be the weapon most suited to that cause.
Your childish attempts at maligning me as one spoiled on the extravagance of the Faith is transparent and makes you look the fool: The Templar guard the Faithful and wage holy war against the darkness. And for this, we sleep in a communal room of cots lining a wall along with chests for our few privates.
We do not sleep in safe, private chambers as you do: we do not sleep among silks, wear silks, nor spend silver as if it were sand to buy the luxuries you are used to. We serve. The Templar serve.
I give the whole of my life to the service of the Faith: I train those who are weak, I speak for the poor, I help those in need. That is my life. I challenge you, little princess, to live a life as humble as I, with not so much as a bedroom of my own.
Yes, the Faith arms the Templar: and I am one of those very few chosen to guard the Dominus himself from time to time, so my arms are admirable. But I do not own them. When I give my life for the Faith, which I will do, mu armor and my sword -- if it can be recovered -- will pass to another godsworn servant of the Holy Knights of the Temple.
Does the Faith arm me? Yes! Absolutely. For I am sworn to give my life for the protection of the people.
You, silly child, try to turn the defense of Arvum and the Faithful as if it were some sort of indulgence. Lies drip from your royal lips, scion of Grayson. Spend one month within the Rectory's barracks-- after you have atoned your sins-- and know the life of the Templar, and you will know we do not live in anything like luxury, that we do not care for gold.
The Holy Knights of the Temple are the shield and sword against the darkness: we live and endure for the Faith to survive.
You are right, Princess Graydon. Receipts do not lie. They tell a specific story for me: of a man devoted to the Faith preparing to fight the darkness and supported by the Faithful to ready him to be the weapon most suited to that cause.
Your childish attempts at maligning me as one spoiled on the extravagance of the Faith is transparent and makes you look the fool: The Templar guard the Faithful and wage holy war against the darkness. And for this, we sleep in a communal room of cots lining a wall along with chests for our few privates.
We do not sleep in safe, private chambers as you do: we do not sleep among silks, wear silks, nor spend silver as if it were sand to buy the luxuries you are used to. We serve. The Templar serve.
Written By Lark
Jan. 23, 2017, 3:16 a.m.(9/25/1005 AR)
Relationship Note on Preston
Sir Preston was given half a million silver in exchange for his continued servitude to a scoundrel and villain. Receipts do not lie.
Written By Preston
Jan. 23, 2017, 2:58 a.m.(9/25/1005 AR)
The Princess Lark of House Grayson speaks out against the Voice of the Pantheon.
She, sinner, seeks to condemn the Closest to the Gods.
I have prayed for you, heathens, who have turned from light to darkness, but this is a step to far.
To all of you who have been excommunicated: attacking the judge who sees your sin and calls you upon it does not clean your soul before the gods. Turning against the father of the Faith does not provide a balm to the sickening pestilence that is the wound on your soul that you inflicted upon yourself when you chose to set aside the Laws of Limerance.
Your corruption is laid bare for all to see: you seek to clothe it in silk and show it as virtue, a hard decision -- but if a man or woman has to do a hard decision beneath the gods, they would in righteousness do so while *accepting the chastisement of their sin*. They would stand before the Faith and say: I sinned and I wish to seek atonement. And, upon seeking atonement, they would accept chastisement and recognize their sin.
The excommunicated chose to embrace blood sacrifice and the foulest of dark sorcery, this in absolute violation of the Laws of Limerance, that law which establishes the very fidelity between gods and men. They broke the very foundational covenant that established the bond between us and the gods.
When the Most Holy challenged them, did they turn and say? I accept responsibility-- I thought it best but I regret-- what penance may I pay to cleanse myself. No. They, in pure arrogance, took his challenge and turned it as an attack against him: and by attacking him, they attacked the Faith.
I would see us united as one: I know there are hard decisions, but taking responsibility for those decisions is what it means to *make* those decisions.
I am but a man, born of no family, born of on station. I am no one. I am only what I make of myself. You can discard my words and cast aside my opinion. Very well. I am a servant of two masters: the Crown and the Faith, and in the form of both, I am but a godsworn servant of the gods.
I am no one, but I am every son and daughter of the Compact who holds true with the Faith: we are no one, but together, we are the children of the gods.
Who are you, Princess Lark? What do you answer to? What power to do you submit to?
You clearly do not submit to the authority of the gods.
She, sinner, seeks to condemn the Closest to the Gods.
I have prayed for you, heathens, who have turned from light to darkness, but this is a step to far.
To all of you who have been excommunicated: attacking the judge who sees your sin and calls you upon it does not clean your soul before the gods. Turning against the father of the Faith does not provide a balm to the sickening pestilence that is the wound on your soul that you inflicted upon yourself when you chose to set aside the Laws of Limerance.
Your corruption is laid bare for all to see: you seek to clothe it in silk and show it as virtue, a hard decision -- but if a man or woman has to do a hard decision beneath the gods, they would in righteousness do so while *accepting the chastisement of their sin*. They would stand before the Faith and say: I sinned and I wish to seek atonement. And, upon seeking atonement, they would accept chastisement and recognize their sin.
The excommunicated chose to embrace blood sacrifice and the foulest of dark sorcery, this in absolute violation of the Laws of Limerance, that law which establishes the very fidelity between gods and men. They broke the very foundational covenant that established the bond between us and the gods.
When the Most Holy challenged them, did they turn and say? I accept responsibility-- I thought it best but I regret-- what penance may I pay to cleanse myself. No. They, in pure arrogance, took his challenge and turned it as an attack against him: and by attacking him, they attacked the Faith.
I would see us united as one: I know there are hard decisions, but taking responsibility for those decisions is what it means to *make* those decisions.
I am but a man, born of no family, born of on station. I am no one. I am only what I make of myself. You can discard my words and cast aside my opinion. Very well. I am a servant of two masters: the Crown and the Faith, and in the form of both, I am but a godsworn servant of the gods.
I am no one, but I am every son and daughter of the Compact who holds true with the Faith: we are no one, but together, we are the children of the gods.
Who are you, Princess Lark? What do you answer to? What power to do you submit to?
You clearly do not submit to the authority of the gods.
Written By Silas
Jan. 23, 2017, 2:48 a.m.(9/25/1005 AR)
Relationship Note on Chanse
All of my hate...
Written By Felix
Jan. 23, 2017, 2:45 a.m.(9/25/1005 AR)
I think lately people have been getting the words 'evidence' and 'accusation' mixed up. As a reminder for those that don't know, evidence is physical or named eyewitness account that can indeed be used to support an accusation. An accusation is a claim that someone has done something. I hope this bit of information from Arx's very own friendly weaponsmith has been helpful and enlightening.
Written By Calandra
Jan. 23, 2017, 1:44 a.m.(9/25/1005 AR)
Relationship Note on Ida
Ms. Ida has given to the festival a voucher for one steel weapon or hair pin, crafted by her in a manner that suits the taste of the winner. There are limits to what can be asked for (i.e. not a ton of expensive gems on the pommel and etc). This is great! We need as much swords in the Boroughs as possible. The Bringers might come there as well.
Written By Marius
Jan. 23, 2017, 1:20 a.m.(9/25/1005 AR)
Relationship Note on Neve
Cousins. Neve is adopted, though she was adopted from infancy and raised by Marius' uncle Muiryn. She is an innocent free spirit who grew up talking about the spirit of the Greenwood even though she is not a Shaman.
Written By Neve
Jan. 23, 2017, 1:20 a.m.(9/25/1005 AR)
Relationship Note on Muiryn
My shelter in the storm, my guiding light, my path home and always the tallest man in the world.
Written By Marius
Jan. 23, 2017, 1:10 a.m.(9/25/1005 AR)
Relationship Note on Rowan
Cousin
Written By Marius
Jan. 23, 2017, 1:10 a.m.(9/25/1005 AR)
Relationship Note on Neve
Cousin
Written By Marius
Jan. 23, 2017, 1:10 a.m.(9/25/1005 AR)
Relationship Note on Niamh
Cousin
Written By Marius
Jan. 23, 2017, 1:10 a.m.(9/25/1005 AR)
Relationship Note on Eirlys
Cousin
Written By Marius
Jan. 23, 2017, 1:10 a.m.(9/25/1005 AR)
Relationship Note on Fiachra
Cousin
Written By Marius
Jan. 23, 2017, 1:08 a.m.(9/25/1005 AR)
Relationship Note on Muiryn
Voice. Uncle (Marcel's brother).
Written By Marius
Jan. 23, 2017, 1:07 a.m.(9/25/1005 AR)
Relationship Note on Marian
Eldest sister. Married to Valen Valardin.
Written By Marius
Jan. 23, 2017, 1:06 a.m.(9/25/1005 AR)
Relationship Note on Monique
Youngest sister. Unmarried so far. Might be married soon, to a former outlaw
Written By Nadia
Jan. 22, 2017, 11:53 p.m.(9/25/1005 AR)
Relationship Note on Belladonna
Duchess of Setarco, and now my sister-in-law. I've heard nothing but good things about her, but I cannot wait to learn of the mysterious Belladonna for myself.
Written By Tristan
Jan. 22, 2017, 11:27 p.m.(9/25/1005 AR)
There are direwolves and leopards and mountain lions stalking this city. Don't ask what I think of people keeping animals that belong in the wild. My language probably wouldn't be fit for this journal. There are exceptions, but--
And yet noblewomen come to the Palace Stables to play with Patches.
Let me tell you about Patches.
He was maybe five weeks when I found him, too young to leave his mother, but I can't help but think his mum and siblings were lost to some horrible fate. He fell into the hands of some lowlifes who were running a betting game behind some tavern Alaric and I stopped at when the king was slumming. The game? A nest of vicious rats vs a five week old puppy. Place your money on who you thought would live.
I thrashed the lowlifes, dispatched the rats humanely, and saved the puppy. Carried him home inside my shirt, a tiny whimpering bundle more blood than fur.
I didn't think he'd make it. He'd lost most of one ear to the rats already, and the rat bites festered, foul and infected. There was no saving the one leg all the rats had latched onto, and a military healer who'd seen worse on the battlefield took it off to save the rest of him.
To my surprise, he lived. It's hard to kill tough little guttersnipes, after all. He clung on--and he flourished. Despite what was done to him, he wags his tail, and greets people with the dog equivalent of a grin.
I tell this story to give two lessons:
One, people are shit.
Two, Patches has always been a good dog.
And yet noblewomen come to the Palace Stables to play with Patches.
Let me tell you about Patches.
He was maybe five weeks when I found him, too young to leave his mother, but I can't help but think his mum and siblings were lost to some horrible fate. He fell into the hands of some lowlifes who were running a betting game behind some tavern Alaric and I stopped at when the king was slumming. The game? A nest of vicious rats vs a five week old puppy. Place your money on who you thought would live.
I thrashed the lowlifes, dispatched the rats humanely, and saved the puppy. Carried him home inside my shirt, a tiny whimpering bundle more blood than fur.
I didn't think he'd make it. He'd lost most of one ear to the rats already, and the rat bites festered, foul and infected. There was no saving the one leg all the rats had latched onto, and a military healer who'd seen worse on the battlefield took it off to save the rest of him.
To my surprise, he lived. It's hard to kill tough little guttersnipes, after all. He clung on--and he flourished. Despite what was done to him, he wags his tail, and greets people with the dog equivalent of a grin.
I tell this story to give two lessons:
One, people are shit.
Two, Patches has always been a good dog.
Written By Lazarus
Jan. 22, 2017, 11:20 p.m.(9/25/1005 AR)
I am comfortable in my tower even when I am a prisoner of my own mind. If you need me, talk to the guards I placed outside my door.
Written By Tristan
Jan. 22, 2017, 11:14 p.m.(9/25/1005 AR)
I've decided that in my next life, whatever deep life-spanning friendships will be with simple people.
Like stable lads and costermongerers. Not kings. One king, love him like a brother or not, is enough trouble for one reincarnation cycle.
Like stable lads and costermongerers. Not kings. One king, love him like a brother or not, is enough trouble for one reincarnation cycle.
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