Written By Aureth
Nov. 6, 2016, 10:42 p.m.(1/18/1005 AR)
A new day is dawning and I draw a card for it.
I haven't looked at the card yet, but I can anticipate it, I think.
I haven't looked at the card yet, but I can anticipate it, I think.
Written By Fortunato
Nov. 6, 2016, 10:37 p.m.(1/18/1005 AR)
A dozen fires crowded on a single canvas. A bright splotch set against a simple cross of dark branches. A fire backlighting a horde of ashen trees. Three bonfires in slightly different configurations. A fireplace. A person made of fire. The rest of the fires are disinterested scribbles. In the margins, a small hand, three interlocked rings. Scattered dog teeth.
Written By Cara
Nov. 6, 2016, 10:33 p.m.(1/18/1005 AR)
Sometimes I feel as though we are at a crossroads, and in either direction, the road stretches out towards fire and ruin.
Perhaps it is time to follow the Ashford way, and to blaze a new path.
But I am afraid, for the shadows are deep and I know not what lies within them.
Perhaps it is time to follow the Ashford way, and to blaze a new path.
But I am afraid, for the shadows are deep and I know not what lies within them.
Written By Blacktongue
Nov. 6, 2016, 10:32 p.m.(1/18/1005 AR)
Relationship Note on Esera
I see so much of your mother in you, but you are your own woman in so many other ways. You have made her missions yours. Admirable, and you have my accolades, but let us consider for a moment what burdens you would shoulder were hers stripped away?
I thought my service for Velenosa and usefulness would have died along with her, but you have given me a renewed purpose and for that I thank you. I'll keep my promises.
We'll laugh, we'll smile, and they'll be none the wiser.
I thought my service for Velenosa and usefulness would have died along with her, but you have given me a renewed purpose and for that I thank you. I'll keep my promises.
We'll laugh, we'll smile, and they'll be none the wiser.
Written By Cara
Nov. 6, 2016, 10:31 p.m.(1/18/1005 AR)
Relationship Note on Dafne
Lady Dafne is a charming and very interesting young lady, well-spoken and intelligent. She has a passion for pursuing knowledge which I share, and I hope to develop our acquaintance over time.
Written By Abbas
Nov. 6, 2016, 10:09 p.m.(1/18/1005 AR)
Relationship Note on Nadia
I am not sure what I can say about her. She and I have had the chance to grow close since the summer. And I hold her in a different light than most women. It is a funny thing -- Arx. It makes you judge how you measure people; I cannot stomach full immersion in the weaker cultures. But I don't mind the taste, either. I wish to see the mountains.
Written By Abbas
Nov. 6, 2016, 10:04 p.m.(1/18/1005 AR)
nadia
Written By Abbas
Nov. 6, 2016, 10 p.m.(1/18/1005 AR)
I feel as if we are on the edge of cliff. Below us the surf hammers against the rock with no offer of mercy. The water is dark and the tide is the blood tide. The time to tithe ourselves of our blood is now. So many of my cousin and family do not hold the ways of the Salt as I do. There is definitely a change in how some Thraxian view the world. It is a shame -- the Salt is without room for error as it is a cruel mistress who will slit your throat the moment you show your soft underbelly. I implore my blood to put your delicate sensibilities aside. Sharp your axes and get ready to slaughter. Killing blows, boys. Killing blows only.
Written By Nadia
Nov. 6, 2016, 9:35 p.m.(1/18/1005 AR)
I've been distracted since summer gave way to fall; and it to winter. I don't like it very much, the yearning in his absence or the frustrations when I must go without seeing his smile. I've written more poems than I care to, and they're all the kind that father would have wrote to mother. The kind that would bring out my brightest smiles and make my chest heavy with those airy, girlish sighs of whimsy and wistful hoping of when I'd come to experience it for myself.
Now that I have, I cannot say that I'm quite fond of it in the least. There's far too much to do. Shavs to vanquish, people to meet, and a household to run. Just what would Mother say when she finds out? (Lydia, don't even think of writing to tell her. I know you will. And if you do, I'll tell her about what you've been up to.)
Now that I have, I cannot say that I'm quite fond of it in the least. There's far too much to do. Shavs to vanquish, people to meet, and a household to run. Just what would Mother say when she finds out? (Lydia, don't even think of writing to tell her. I know you will. And if you do, I'll tell her about what you've been up to.)
Written By Freja
Nov. 6, 2016, 9:28 p.m.(1/18/1005 AR)
Relationship Note on Fergus
Until the last, you and I. Where your sword goes mine will follow.
Written By Nadia
Nov. 6, 2016, 9:26 p.m.(1/18/1005 AR)
From the mouth of the ocean and the eye of the wave
You erupt in my being and leap from my grave;
A lover so gloomy, yet dreadfully bright
You're clothed with darkness but crowned with light.
You come in the spark, you soar with the fire
The mist is your pillow, the tornado your choir;
I will kiss you to sleep on the wild ocean crest
A sleeping volcano, an earthquake at rest.
When you feel the earth move under your feet
The sun will bathe you with her sultry heat;
Let not the stars dim the light in your eyes
Let not my passion find you unwise,
For all that you are is to be all that you can
For you are the dream, you are my man.
You erupt in my being and leap from my grave;
A lover so gloomy, yet dreadfully bright
You're clothed with darkness but crowned with light.
You come in the spark, you soar with the fire
The mist is your pillow, the tornado your choir;
I will kiss you to sleep on the wild ocean crest
A sleeping volcano, an earthquake at rest.
When you feel the earth move under your feet
The sun will bathe you with her sultry heat;
Let not the stars dim the light in your eyes
Let not my passion find you unwise,
For all that you are is to be all that you can
For you are the dream, you are my man.
Written By Nadia
Nov. 6, 2016, 9:26 p.m.(1/18/1005 AR)
From the mouth of the ocean and the eye of the wave
You erupt in my being and leap from my grave;
A lover so gloomy, yet dreadfully bright
You're clothed with darkness but crowned with light.
You come in the spark, you soar with the fire
The mist is your pillow, the tornado your choir;
I will kiss you to sleep on the wild ocean crest
A sleeping volcano, an earthquake at rest.
When you feel the earth move under your feet
The sun will bathe you with her sultry heat;
Let not the stars dim the light in your eyes
Let not my passion find you unwise,
For all that you are is to be all that you can
For you are the dream, you are my man.
You erupt in my being and leap from my grave;
A lover so gloomy, yet dreadfully bright
You're clothed with darkness but crowned with light.
You come in the spark, you soar with the fire
The mist is your pillow, the tornado your choir;
I will kiss you to sleep on the wild ocean crest
A sleeping volcano, an earthquake at rest.
When you feel the earth move under your feet
The sun will bathe you with her sultry heat;
Let not the stars dim the light in your eyes
Let not my passion find you unwise,
For all that you are is to be all that you can
For you are the dream, you are my man.
Written By Fergus
Nov. 6, 2016, 9:20 p.m.(1/18/1005 AR)
I tried retiring Demonslayer, I sheathed it and I hung it up in Farhaven, telling myself I was done with the weapon. Fighting Vercyn's wars was plenty of blood for me, the man knows how to have blood irrigate the north. Sherrod asked me to come south to Arx with him, I told him I was done fighting, I would not spill any more blood for some stupid reason like land or the fact someone was not born in one of the settled cities. And then word reached Farhaven that Sherrod was killed, along with others, and the King was in some state that he could not rule. I knew then that the Gods put a spite on me for having not been there to keep them safe. Sherrod died because I told him I was going to live some quiet existance in Farhaven. I packed up Demonslayer and I came to Arx so that I could put right what I should have in the first place. I hadn't removed the peace knot from Demonslayer until the other day as I began getting messengers from Darren and Vercyn telling me to ready myself for what may come. Demonslayer has had any tarnish removed from the blade, it has been resharpened and I stubbornly sheathed the sword and retied the peace knot to it. I do not want to believe I will draw the sword soon for vengeance, but deep down I know that only I can make right what happened with Sherrod.
Written By Jaenelle
Nov. 6, 2016, 9:18 p.m.(1/18/1005 AR)
There is something innocent about winter, how everything is blanketed in white and nothing can hide from the chill that seems to find everyone's secrets.
I had the pleasure of enjoying a lovely afternoon with Cicero, and when he left me, Jarek. While nothing was every accomplished, and there were no snowmen to be seen afterwards as I had originally planned, the afternoon was a balance of good company, amusement, and conversation.
I had the pleasure of enjoying a lovely afternoon with Cicero, and when he left me, Jarek. While nothing was every accomplished, and there were no snowmen to be seen afterwards as I had originally planned, the afternoon was a balance of good company, amusement, and conversation.
Written By Niccolo
Nov. 6, 2016, 9:11 p.m.(1/18/1005 AR)
Relationship Note on Augustus
Lady Dawn has spoken of him often during our meetings. But, during the latest gala hosted by House Grayson, I finally had a chance to meet the man. He didn't disappoint, Lady Dawn thought I'd like him and at first glance, I do. The fact that he knows the Lyceum is certainly a positive. We'll see how well we actually get along after we have a drink or two.
Written By Aurora
Nov. 6, 2016, 9:10 p.m.(1/18/1005 AR)
Relationship Note on Natalia
I have only met the Princess once, though we had exchanged missives back and forth before that. I am not certain she likes me very much. I think I am ok with this, if it turns out she does not. In any case, she seems like a wonderful actress, able to look relaxed one minute and cold the next, void of any emotion. Horatio has more interaction with her than I do, she usually deals with my assistants when she comes by the shop.
Written By Calypso
Nov. 6, 2016, 9:05 p.m.(1/18/1005 AR)
Relationship Note on Eirene
Aunt Eirene. My mother's sister. No good military is served with out its medics and there is no stronger woman I can think of to head the Malvici Medics than my Aunt Eirene. She is fierce in all the ways a Raptor should be. Level headed and skilled at her craft. We'll need to keep her from speaking around anyone delicate of course, but I wouldn't have her any other way. I'm glad to have her at my side here in Arx.
Written By Eirene
Nov. 6, 2016, 9:01 p.m.(1/18/1005 AR)
Relationship Note on Calypso
Adona's daughter, the competent one. Not that her brother the serving Duke isn't competent. He just doesn't have the skills for the 'family business' his younger sister does. She's a worthy leader, but I'll still override her if it's in regards to my field. I doubt she'd question me though...
Written By Morrighan
Nov. 6, 2016, 8:58 p.m.(1/18/1005 AR)
Relationship Note on Darren
Put himself at risk to protect the Voice of Thrax. He better have had his guards with him, or even the bear. Gods help me, if he was careless I'm going to yell at him. Sherrod's children are going to give me gray hair before I'm thirty with how much they make me worry. (This means you, Darren.)
Written By Freja
Nov. 6, 2016, 8:57 p.m.(1/18/1005 AR)
My dreams have brought me not whispers this week, but memories. I recall my father honing Redrain's ancestral blade, allowing me to watch him with rapt fascination. The singing of the whetstone against the alaricite was its own euphony against the crackling of the roaring fire in the hearth, its backdrop the howling of Northern winter winds outside the window panes.
We never spoke. I only watched as if this was its own intricate storytelling we never need to verbally acknowledge. It was known between he and I that when I saw the leather wrap that held the tools and heard the blade being unsheathed that I would appear at his feet, child that I was. It was a process that took what seemed hours and as soon as it was done I would leave, or he would impart some wisdom to me.
I dreamed of a night I still bare the scars from. It was a period of when I was growing particularly daring in my adventures, vanishing for hours or even a full day in the deep dungeons or Farhaven. If the wanderlust truly took hold of me I would go outside of the safety of our walls. I was gone for a week once, only three weeks shy of my thirteenth birthday. Fergus was already gone and winning his own well-earned reputation. I thought I would test my own mettle.
They weren't too happy about that.
I returned and no one made any fuss about it and I thought I was so clever, so sly that I had made none the wiser. Father knew, everyone knew, but he had instructed them to act otherwise.
I saw him take out the tools and start the process as always and there I was, at his feet and quietly thinking that life would continue as it always had. The sharpening stopped and he looked at me, turning suddenly and offering Demonslayer to me, the whetstone in his other hand. Naturally, the sword was too cumbersome for me to heft by myself but he watched in stoic silence as I tried in vain. My pride got the best of me and I tried to work it as I must, the first slide of the whetstone slipping and my hands along with it. My palms were sliced so fast that I couldn't help but stare at them. It seemed a small eternity before the blood actually welled up and spilt over onto the carpet, slipping through my fingers.
The servants were distraught and help was called for the foolish Princess that dared to try and sharpen her father's sword, but all the while he and I looked at one another. We said nothing. We expressed nothing, even as the whiskey was poured on my hands to cleanse the wounds and the strips laid in place to act as tourniquet. I never cried out.
When it was all said and done and I was back in my room, my father came and found me and said in his usual gruff way, which I'm certain Fergus inherited, "What have we learned?" My answer was some foolish, trying too hard nonsense he saw right through. I was trying to tell him what I thought he wanted to hear, but I was wrong. He held up a single hand to silence me mid-sentence. "No. Your lesson was already learned. You did no bow, you did not bend. Even when you inflicted your own pain, you recognized not to let me see it, but more importantly none of the others. I thought you would return brandishing bravado about how you survived the elements, which is no great feat considering the countless Northmen who have done it before you." He paused pointedly there. "But, you were quiet. You took your lessons, how you tested yourself, and learnt from it. Same as the sword. You tested yourself and learned." He made me start my scout training the very next day.
He was always a man of unexpected lessons and morality, unorthodox ones at that.
Some say, Fergus particularly, that I take my lessons from him far too seriously. But we do not bend, we do not break. Redrain remains until the last. The North is unforgiving and why should I not take the wisdom from my greatest teacher? If you cannot find the courage and strength to pull yourself up from your knees, then stay there. If you want to stay in your bed bundled with your trite tears and worries, your grief, then die there for all I care.
But greater is the poor sod that has pride and does not know the strength of his hand, its limits. You have to test yourself, challenge yourself to face the pains of this world and not show your fear. Know the reach of your sword and the keenness of its bite. Strength is not an absence of weakness, it is the outright refusal to accept it.
And to those that would deem it wise to test me for weaknesses by brandishing their own "strengths"? Well, I only advise, darlings:
If you cannot bite, never show your teeth.
We never spoke. I only watched as if this was its own intricate storytelling we never need to verbally acknowledge. It was known between he and I that when I saw the leather wrap that held the tools and heard the blade being unsheathed that I would appear at his feet, child that I was. It was a process that took what seemed hours and as soon as it was done I would leave, or he would impart some wisdom to me.
I dreamed of a night I still bare the scars from. It was a period of when I was growing particularly daring in my adventures, vanishing for hours or even a full day in the deep dungeons or Farhaven. If the wanderlust truly took hold of me I would go outside of the safety of our walls. I was gone for a week once, only three weeks shy of my thirteenth birthday. Fergus was already gone and winning his own well-earned reputation. I thought I would test my own mettle.
They weren't too happy about that.
I returned and no one made any fuss about it and I thought I was so clever, so sly that I had made none the wiser. Father knew, everyone knew, but he had instructed them to act otherwise.
I saw him take out the tools and start the process as always and there I was, at his feet and quietly thinking that life would continue as it always had. The sharpening stopped and he looked at me, turning suddenly and offering Demonslayer to me, the whetstone in his other hand. Naturally, the sword was too cumbersome for me to heft by myself but he watched in stoic silence as I tried in vain. My pride got the best of me and I tried to work it as I must, the first slide of the whetstone slipping and my hands along with it. My palms were sliced so fast that I couldn't help but stare at them. It seemed a small eternity before the blood actually welled up and spilt over onto the carpet, slipping through my fingers.
The servants were distraught and help was called for the foolish Princess that dared to try and sharpen her father's sword, but all the while he and I looked at one another. We said nothing. We expressed nothing, even as the whiskey was poured on my hands to cleanse the wounds and the strips laid in place to act as tourniquet. I never cried out.
When it was all said and done and I was back in my room, my father came and found me and said in his usual gruff way, which I'm certain Fergus inherited, "What have we learned?" My answer was some foolish, trying too hard nonsense he saw right through. I was trying to tell him what I thought he wanted to hear, but I was wrong. He held up a single hand to silence me mid-sentence. "No. Your lesson was already learned. You did no bow, you did not bend. Even when you inflicted your own pain, you recognized not to let me see it, but more importantly none of the others. I thought you would return brandishing bravado about how you survived the elements, which is no great feat considering the countless Northmen who have done it before you." He paused pointedly there. "But, you were quiet. You took your lessons, how you tested yourself, and learnt from it. Same as the sword. You tested yourself and learned." He made me start my scout training the very next day.
He was always a man of unexpected lessons and morality, unorthodox ones at that.
Some say, Fergus particularly, that I take my lessons from him far too seriously. But we do not bend, we do not break. Redrain remains until the last. The North is unforgiving and why should I not take the wisdom from my greatest teacher? If you cannot find the courage and strength to pull yourself up from your knees, then stay there. If you want to stay in your bed bundled with your trite tears and worries, your grief, then die there for all I care.
But greater is the poor sod that has pride and does not know the strength of his hand, its limits. You have to test yourself, challenge yourself to face the pains of this world and not show your fear. Know the reach of your sword and the keenness of its bite. Strength is not an absence of weakness, it is the outright refusal to accept it.
And to those that would deem it wise to test me for weaknesses by brandishing their own "strengths"? Well, I only advise, darlings:
If you cannot bite, never show your teeth.
Please note that the scholars may take some time preparing your journal for others to read.