Written By Kiera
Sept. 25, 2021, 8:19 p.m.(4/9/1016 AR)
Relationship Note on Richard
My brother has returned to the city. We spoke briefly and he seems to be doing well. I am thrilled to have both my brothers under a single roof again the family wyvernheart is whole once more
Written By Gwenna
Sept. 25, 2021, 6:40 p.m.(4/9/1016 AR)
I wish there was more I could do right now toward the efforts in Bastion. Sometimes the sword is, actually, mightier than the pen. Being able to discern trouble or scout are mightier than a well-timed suggestion. Much as I want to be there to try to do anything to help, I'd be more burden than anything else. I was in the Cathedral that night, and sometimes I still have dreams - or nightmares - about what occurred. For now, though, I will try to go about my usual duties and pray for those who bravely make their way to Bastion.
Written By Viviana
Sept. 25, 2021, 3:10 p.m.(4/9/1016 AR)
I overindulged. Shame on me. Lesson learned for today.
Written By Raymesin
Sept. 25, 2021, 11:37 a.m.(4/8/1016 AR)
Eh? No, Scholar, I'm not off to Bastion with our brave lads and lasses.
Some of us have to work for a living, and if I upset the client who booked me months ago there won't be any more silver coming from that direction.
Some of us have to work for a living, and if I upset the client who booked me months ago there won't be any more silver coming from that direction.
Written By Titus
Sept. 25, 2021, 9:11 a.m.(4/8/1016 AR)
This week I have shown devotion to the Goddess of War, the Glowing Maiden of Glory with a Rite to Gloria at the holy encampment of the War Goddess herself. Two champions fought with fervor and excellence, and I am very proud how lord Haakon fought and took first blood against me. We are stronger for this and every time I fight with the Eswynds, I am glad.
And so after this, I will move to do a rite of cleansing in which I honour each of the gods with prayers and offerings to beseech them. This rite of cleansing I've been thinking on for some time. How heavy the veil has been draped across Arvum casting a shadow over things that should never have been forgotten and now are stolen or lost. How histories became legends, and those legends became fantastical myths and tales of vivid imaginations. How alliances simply were forgotten. How an entire people and empire became Lost, serpents slipped through the tall grass.
How bright truth will be when humanity steps out of the darkened cave and looks upon creation as if seeing a new world.
And what greater threats lurk that the veil was placed to hide minds from.
And so after this, I will move to do a rite of cleansing in which I honour each of the gods with prayers and offerings to beseech them. This rite of cleansing I've been thinking on for some time. How heavy the veil has been draped across Arvum casting a shadow over things that should never have been forgotten and now are stolen or lost. How histories became legends, and those legends became fantastical myths and tales of vivid imaginations. How alliances simply were forgotten. How an entire people and empire became Lost, serpents slipped through the tall grass.
How bright truth will be when humanity steps out of the darkened cave and looks upon creation as if seeing a new world.
And what greater threats lurk that the veil was placed to hide minds from.
Written By Lucita
Sept. 25, 2021, 8:44 a.m.(4/8/1016 AR)
I was at Bastian, at the Cathedral, trying to protect my Arch-Duchess and the new Seraph and so many others. I want to return there to help scout but know I lack the stealth and streetwise ability to be able to sneak around and gather information well. The most I could do is serve as a distraction and that has its own hazards for my daggers and short spears can not long hold off such attackers as we faced before. The sensible thing is to recognize my limitations and accept them. I should be sensible, resist temptation to go anyhow, should know I might do more harm than the good I want to do. And so, this time, will remain home and prepare for what will follow these initial scouting missions.
Written By Raymesin
Sept. 25, 2021, 7:35 a.m.(4/8/1016 AR)
The last of the snow is gone, Scholar, even in that corner of the garden the sun never sees. Praise the gods for the joys of spring, I was starting to feel as though winter would never end.
Written By Gael
Sept. 25, 2021, 3:14 a.m.(4/8/1016 AR)
Realize I ain't been around here for a while, Scholar, I think because I've been afraid to. Ever since Bastion, yes.
Writing to you, it has always been a way to let loose some, to speak my mind. To know that someday, sometime in the future where I'll be nothing more than a scattered memory, lost kin of mine may well stumble upon my musings. Learn something, maybe, from the breadth of my failings.
Lately, sadly, I haven't had anything good to write about. Nothing good to remember, full of sadness and regret I'd rather let forget, than to cope with; than to immortalize in these pristine, white sheets your followers are so fond of. I realize it is disingenuous maybe, to come to you only when the tide's on my side and the wind blows at my sails, rather than when the hour is at its darkest, but I'm not keen on putting down defeatist and bleak things. Sometimes they feel as though I'll bring them to life, for I'd rather avoid them, not think on them. If only I could forget. I think that'd be my power, if I ever got to choose. Some folk claim they'd like to fly, others to hold their breath or control the wind, some to sing in such a way they could wake the roots of a tree. I'd choose to forget.
Everything's been feeling wrong and out of place since what happened at the Crypts. The more I seek Lagoma's flame to ward off the cold, the fear, the anxious thoughts, the more it all seeps into my bones. That is what it's been: cold. I don't thaw as easy as I used to, and ever since that thing bit down on my shoulder, it's been making all sorts of queer noises when I stretch, or swing the sword. Comes out of its socket a lot easier, my throwing days are behind me. Maybe my sword days, too, if I test it too much.
The other night I went to some noble reunion. Odd invite, a friend's friend; just to drink, wanted some quiet and thought I had found it, but I didn't. Not the right place for it. Saw a lot of folk dancing, enjoying themselves, and I resented it. I didn't want to see life moving on after all that has happened, all the loss. People forgetting. Drinking. Laughing. It was too much.
Young people all around, noble and commoner alike, bringing their spontaneous good cheer down on me like a sledgehammer everywhere I go. I cannot relate. I am becoming an uncanny, unsettling, and self-absorbed thug at odds with the world, and no matter however many short-wicked joys I allow myself, his face. I cannot erase it from the forefront of my mind. It is there with me when I wake every night, and it haunts my dead-angle when I close my eyes to try and sleep. It is all in my head. Echoes of things I cannot comprehend, swirling in there, taking me for long trips that bring only dizziness and sleeplessness.
And more than that: I am sad. There is an absence inside of me, something missing that's still in the water, not floating but under the sea. Waiting. Calling, maybe.
Either way, that's it from me, Scholar. Would've fit some bits more but, been doing nothing more than rigging since three days back, and my hand's cramping up bad-like. We're going back to Bastion. Some scouting business, denizens looking for answers, and I hope we find them.
And that nothing finds us.
Writing to you, it has always been a way to let loose some, to speak my mind. To know that someday, sometime in the future where I'll be nothing more than a scattered memory, lost kin of mine may well stumble upon my musings. Learn something, maybe, from the breadth of my failings.
Lately, sadly, I haven't had anything good to write about. Nothing good to remember, full of sadness and regret I'd rather let forget, than to cope with; than to immortalize in these pristine, white sheets your followers are so fond of. I realize it is disingenuous maybe, to come to you only when the tide's on my side and the wind blows at my sails, rather than when the hour is at its darkest, but I'm not keen on putting down defeatist and bleak things. Sometimes they feel as though I'll bring them to life, for I'd rather avoid them, not think on them. If only I could forget. I think that'd be my power, if I ever got to choose. Some folk claim they'd like to fly, others to hold their breath or control the wind, some to sing in such a way they could wake the roots of a tree. I'd choose to forget.
Everything's been feeling wrong and out of place since what happened at the Crypts. The more I seek Lagoma's flame to ward off the cold, the fear, the anxious thoughts, the more it all seeps into my bones. That is what it's been: cold. I don't thaw as easy as I used to, and ever since that thing bit down on my shoulder, it's been making all sorts of queer noises when I stretch, or swing the sword. Comes out of its socket a lot easier, my throwing days are behind me. Maybe my sword days, too, if I test it too much.
The other night I went to some noble reunion. Odd invite, a friend's friend; just to drink, wanted some quiet and thought I had found it, but I didn't. Not the right place for it. Saw a lot of folk dancing, enjoying themselves, and I resented it. I didn't want to see life moving on after all that has happened, all the loss. People forgetting. Drinking. Laughing. It was too much.
Young people all around, noble and commoner alike, bringing their spontaneous good cheer down on me like a sledgehammer everywhere I go. I cannot relate. I am becoming an uncanny, unsettling, and self-absorbed thug at odds with the world, and no matter however many short-wicked joys I allow myself, his face. I cannot erase it from the forefront of my mind. It is there with me when I wake every night, and it haunts my dead-angle when I close my eyes to try and sleep. It is all in my head. Echoes of things I cannot comprehend, swirling in there, taking me for long trips that bring only dizziness and sleeplessness.
And more than that: I am sad. There is an absence inside of me, something missing that's still in the water, not floating but under the sea. Waiting. Calling, maybe.
Either way, that's it from me, Scholar. Would've fit some bits more but, been doing nothing more than rigging since three days back, and my hand's cramping up bad-like. We're going back to Bastion. Some scouting business, denizens looking for answers, and I hope we find them.
And that nothing finds us.
Written By Medeia
Sept. 25, 2021, 3:12 a.m.(4/8/1016 AR)
Relationship Note on Haakon
I have no shortage of reasons to be proud of my husband.
He truly is remarkable. I wish the whole of the Compact had witnessed the Rite of Gloria.
He truly is remarkable. I wish the whole of the Compact had witnessed the Rite of Gloria.
Written By Medeia
Sept. 25, 2021, 3 a.m.(4/8/1016 AR)
Relationship Note on Titus
Lord Titus Vaevici has been a true friend to Eswynd, bringing his ship and crew to our aid in times of conflict. He's taken injuries on our behalf that, honestly, even I am impressed he survived - and I am the one that tended many of those wounds! I did not know, some two years ago now, that when I befriended Baroness Calla that I would find myself grateful to her cousin for his invitation to explore the jungle around the Calderra, that I'd have a rare flowering vine from those travels growing in my conservatory, or that the relationship would come to bear fruit for an alliance between our houses - mine not even being mine, at that time!
Though he was not victorious in the Rite of Gloria against my husband, he maintained dignity, fervor, and honor. His dedication is unquestionable. It is a privilege to have one such as him on your side. Someday, I hope to be able to express my gratitude in a more tangible way. What does one gift an ally?
Though he was not victorious in the Rite of Gloria against my husband, he maintained dignity, fervor, and honor. His dedication is unquestionable. It is a privilege to have one such as him on your side. Someday, I hope to be able to express my gratitude in a more tangible way. What does one gift an ally?
Written By Haakon
Sept. 25, 2021, 2:33 a.m.(4/8/1016 AR)
Recited at the Rite to Gloria, immediately before crossing swords with Titus Vaevici:
"Goddess of valor, hear us!
By your gifts our kin are fed,
By your arts we conquer dread,
For the weak we stand in stead
Whilst toward danger ever tread.
On this the eve of newest strife
Where the gallant will wager life,
Spending free their strength and pain
Fallen Bastion to regain,
Let our deeds of blood and steel
Please ye, Goddess, strong and leal,
That we valiant mortals might
Do great deeds beneath thy sight.
We praise ye, Goddess, now attend
As we to thee our steel psalm send."
"Goddess of valor, hear us!
By your gifts our kin are fed,
By your arts we conquer dread,
For the weak we stand in stead
Whilst toward danger ever tread.
On this the eve of newest strife
Where the gallant will wager life,
Spending free their strength and pain
Fallen Bastion to regain,
Let our deeds of blood and steel
Please ye, Goddess, strong and leal,
That we valiant mortals might
Do great deeds beneath thy sight.
We praise ye, Goddess, now attend
As we to thee our steel psalm send."
Written By Rosalind
Sept. 24, 2021, 8:54 p.m.(4/7/1016 AR)
I'm going to be traveling to Bastion again. I know it's probably not the smartest move I've done,, but it's important. I fee like I can help more being more there than here. Why are you looking at me like that, scholar?! I know what I'm doing! Sorta...KINDA!
Written By Rosalind
Sept. 24, 2021, 8:51 p.m.(4/7/1016 AR)
Spring is here! It's not hot yet, so I love it! It's a rebirth. You can smell the dirt, feel the squish of the mud between my toes. Soon I'll be pulling the weeds from the gardens. Planting flowers and vegetables. I'm so very excited.
Written By Thea
Sept. 24, 2021, 8:45 p.m.(4/7/1016 AR)
The reception of the Princess Jaenelle and Princes-er--Prince Noah. It was, well..I have not many words to describe it. It was unique and beautiful. Much like the Princess herself and likely Noah to be honest. The unique. Not the beautiful. Clearly. To get to reception itself, you had to get through a labyrinth, where there small gifts here and there. It was a great time, and I will honestly say, I had the best date. Thank you, Den!
Written By Viviana
Sept. 24, 2021, 8:43 p.m.(4/7/1016 AR)
( Leila's been taking to studying in the Archives lately, so I've asked her to bring my entry to the Whites. )
I am utterly drunk off Saiklands wine, good and strong and smooth with the sort of charm I would expect from a suitor because it swept me right off my feet. A good thing, especially since I will be on my side for a time and all the feather-filled pillows do nothing for the bruised backside where once dignity sat proudly -- as I seemed to have forgotten my seat on a horse, which -- oh, V, it smarts.
Quite.
I'll not be forgetting that anytime soon. After this, I will sample my protégé Lore's Squid Ink and recall that I made my escort to the Grayson-Velenosa wedding reception chase us ourselves around in circles in that labyrinth -- it was maddeningly fun. All of that running about with Aella and I still forgot about those daggers. Diamondplate's lovely -- but it's still within grasp. The whole of it. The jewelry is artful, the scents are unique, so, those will all get tucked away somewhere.Oh
(I keep my eyes open for more. For better. Not for myself, mind, but for those precious few I desperately want to spoil. Looking at you -- )
Finally. These last couple of missives are so mesmerizing, Scholar. I have read and read them over again, lost in the language of them, with fingertips tracing the loop and curl of scripted words -- like holy scripture, these thoughts -- each describes which color speaks to them. It's art. I would write to them of the midnight rainbow a raven's feathers turn, that iridescent blue that prideful green and that velvet black. Or, I can write it here and savor all of that writing all over again.
I think I will.
Where's the Ink?
I am utterly drunk off Saiklands wine, good and strong and smooth with the sort of charm I would expect from a suitor because it swept me right off my feet. A good thing, especially since I will be on my side for a time and all the feather-filled pillows do nothing for the bruised backside where once dignity sat proudly -- as I seemed to have forgotten my seat on a horse, which -- oh, V, it smarts.
Quite.
I'll not be forgetting that anytime soon. After this, I will sample my protégé Lore's Squid Ink and recall that I made my escort to the Grayson-Velenosa wedding reception chase us ourselves around in circles in that labyrinth -- it was maddeningly fun. All of that running about with Aella and I still forgot about those daggers. Diamondplate's lovely -- but it's still within grasp. The whole of it. The jewelry is artful, the scents are unique, so, those will all get tucked away somewhere.Oh
(I keep my eyes open for more. For better. Not for myself, mind, but for those precious few I desperately want to spoil. Looking at you -- )
Finally. These last couple of missives are so mesmerizing, Scholar. I have read and read them over again, lost in the language of them, with fingertips tracing the loop and curl of scripted words -- like holy scripture, these thoughts -- each describes which color speaks to them. It's art. I would write to them of the midnight rainbow a raven's feathers turn, that iridescent blue that prideful green and that velvet black. Or, I can write it here and savor all of that writing all over again.
I think I will.
Where's the Ink?
Written By Raven
Sept. 24, 2021, 7:35 p.m.(4/7/1016 AR)
Cause what destruction you can but I See you. Perhaps history will remember only the power it took to lay to waste what fell. I See You. All things are ruled by their nature. You will fail because it is your nature. Enjoy futility turning your victory to ash. I certainly will.
Written By Oswyn
Sept. 24, 2021, 2:16 p.m.(4/7/1016 AR)
So I'm going to scout at Bastion. I am perhaps not the most likely person to go, but my intent is to take care of those more robust than myself as a physician. Usually I try to keep out of the way in a fight. I hope I'm not a detriment to my team. Time to bring out the leathers again --- and a bandana? I look strange in a bandana but I'm sure I would look stranger with no head at all.
Written By Lark
Sept. 24, 2021, 2:03 p.m.(4/6/1016 AR)
If only there were a way to express my ever-growing gratitude to brave and honorable strangers.
Written By Piccola
Sept. 24, 2021, 10:11 a.m.(4/6/1016 AR)
We live in a world of walls, my friend, and those walls are defended by people who have accepted that, at any time, they could be sent to their deaths. We generals have the responsibility to send them to their ends. Sometimes we have the responsibility of sending ourselves to the same. And we do this because we believe in something greater than ourselves.
Sometimes, our choices seem dangerous and reckless. But we are entrusted with that grave responsibility: to make the decisions which shall be questioned because such decisions purchase such luxury. And while we may seem grotesque or incomprehensible, this does not obviate our duties to our Houses, our soldiers, and our people.
The truth is that when a monster is needed, we are asked to be that monster. We train to cut out our hearts when we face our enemies for they are trained the same. We have been beaten and bloodied, but we accept this because of words like honor, code, and loyalty. These form the backbone of every company sent to keep those walls.
Marquessa Sabine restored my honor for one purpose. There was a price for it. I accepted that price. As I have written before, we but pay back debt for our lives in one way or another, and it is ill of us to question the reasons why, at times, that debt is called. As I have written before, I have accepted my death, and now truly live. Now is the time.
Sometimes, our choices seem dangerous and reckless. But we are entrusted with that grave responsibility: to make the decisions which shall be questioned because such decisions purchase such luxury. And while we may seem grotesque or incomprehensible, this does not obviate our duties to our Houses, our soldiers, and our people.
The truth is that when a monster is needed, we are asked to be that monster. We train to cut out our hearts when we face our enemies for they are trained the same. We have been beaten and bloodied, but we accept this because of words like honor, code, and loyalty. These form the backbone of every company sent to keep those walls.
Marquessa Sabine restored my honor for one purpose. There was a price for it. I accepted that price. As I have written before, we but pay back debt for our lives in one way or another, and it is ill of us to question the reasons why, at times, that debt is called. As I have written before, I have accepted my death, and now truly live. Now is the time.
Written By Isabeau
Sept. 24, 2021, 12:05 a.m.(4/5/1016 AR)
I heard a curious whisper of a name follow me about the city today as I was collecting up some new fabrics for playing with. I'm honored and a little bewildered at it. And a bit charmed. I've done a lot this past year between the fabrics, the Knight Games, and... well. I have devoted time to my people and my family and I don't intend to stop.
Please note that the scholars may take some time preparing your journal for others to read.