Written By Freja
Dec. 3, 2016, 5:03 p.m.(4/14/1005 AR)
The Order of Hope.
That is this new advisory council I have been added to, a council for the crown created by Lady Regent Dawn. As the only Northern voice on it, I have to wonder how much weight and salt my opinion will be taken with.
As I run my thumb along this symbol of the new status, a medallion of sorts, I can't help but find it curious how I keep finding myself in these situations.
I was raised by the Sword of Farhaven, fashioned for military prowess and not for the political, but somehow I keep finding myself here.
I have been told it is my truths and outright refusal to sugarcoat anything, my abhorrence for weakness and tolerance of it. My lack of mercy for would be charmers and snakes in the snow.
I find it quaint that in spite of my protests others call me gentle and even kind, but I know that they have yet to see me in the midst of a frozen tempest. I haven't had the chance to show that nature.
Two heads cut off and thrown high into the tree have only the winds with which to scheme.
That is this new advisory council I have been added to, a council for the crown created by Lady Regent Dawn. As the only Northern voice on it, I have to wonder how much weight and salt my opinion will be taken with.
As I run my thumb along this symbol of the new status, a medallion of sorts, I can't help but find it curious how I keep finding myself in these situations.
I was raised by the Sword of Farhaven, fashioned for military prowess and not for the political, but somehow I keep finding myself here.
I have been told it is my truths and outright refusal to sugarcoat anything, my abhorrence for weakness and tolerance of it. My lack of mercy for would be charmers and snakes in the snow.
I find it quaint that in spite of my protests others call me gentle and even kind, but I know that they have yet to see me in the midst of a frozen tempest. I haven't had the chance to show that nature.
Two heads cut off and thrown high into the tree have only the winds with which to scheme.
Written By Freja
Nov. 27, 2016, 7:13 p.m.(3/25/1005 AR)
Relationship Note on Anze
Another older brother that makes it his duty to make me overly aware I am the 'baby' no matter how old I get. He has a fury that Fergus and I are famed for, but his is far more rare. He keeps me smiling where others may fail. I am happier for him being here, but hope he finds purpose here and does not feel as aimless as his siblings do.
Written By Freja
Nov. 25, 2016, 1:02 p.m.(3/18/1005 AR)
I had thought that once I came South from Farhaven that it would be quiet for me. There would be none to pay heed to the scout of the snows, who prefers leathers and furs to silk.
I don't know whether to be happy or annoyed that I was wrong.
I don't know whether to be happy or annoyed that I was wrong.
Written By Freja
Nov. 20, 2016, 10:32 p.m.(3/4/1005 AR)
Relationship Note on Dagon
Here is a Prince at least working against the stereotype the North has against Thrax; he didn't outright threaten to thrall me when it was suggested I cross-train and shadow some of his men on his ship. He even approached me to meet later concerning it. Though, he did say that I should stab the first man that grabs me to earn their respect? I guess he has yet to hear the rumor in Northern taverns that I have gelded a man for less. Complete rumor though, that. Completely.
Written By Freja
Nov. 20, 2016, 10:19 p.m.(3/4/1005 AR)
A letter to the dead: Years now and I still recall you.
"Night closed around the conqueror's way,
And lightnings show'd the distant hill,
Where those who lost that dreadful day
Stood few and faint, but fearless still.
The soldier's hope, the patriot's zeal,
For ever dimm'd, for ever crost --
Oh! who shall say what heroes feel,
When all but life and honour's lost?
I remember your smile so vividly I wonder still if mine will ever again be true.
"Night closed around the conqueror's way,
And lightnings show'd the distant hill,
Where those who lost that dreadful day
Stood few and faint, but fearless still.
The soldier's hope, the patriot's zeal,
For ever dimm'd, for ever crost --
Oh! who shall say what heroes feel,
When all but life and honour's lost?
I remember your smile so vividly I wonder still if mine will ever again be true.
Written By Freja
Nov. 20, 2016, 8:49 p.m.(3/4/1005 AR)
Relationship Note on Eirene
She can drink and she can fight. Her tolerance for bullshit is low. All in all I am impressed she proves to be a candidate for the "Northern Nights Out" as I have heard them called down here..
Written By Freja
Nov. 13, 2016, 10:05 p.m.(2/11/1005 AR)
Relationship Note on Damon
The Lord is a persistent one. He favors the quill as much as the sword, but I suspect that the steel is more out of the earlier necessity of youth to please his father. Now that he is in Arx, I see him pursuing the path of a scholar more than anything. It probably helps that his father is now six feet under and can't raise an argument against it either.
Written By Freja
Nov. 13, 2016, 9:25 p.m.(2/11/1005 AR)
Relationship Note on Aislin
A woman worth her salt, Aislen bears the tone and tongue that comes with well earned experience. She is one of the few here in the city that I believe could match my love for the wilds over the finery of marble halls - not only wistfully wish for the wilds but actively seek them out. So many sit on their ass here and let the words do all of the action. Aislin is a woman of action, not proclamation and empty verse.
I see us becoming fast friends, faster allies still. I have promised to take her to the paths North that only a few, including myself, have traveled. I do hope she holds me to that promise and soon.
I see us becoming fast friends, faster allies still. I have promised to take her to the paths North that only a few, including myself, have traveled. I do hope she holds me to that promise and soon.
Written By Freja
Nov. 11, 2016, 11:28 p.m.(2/5/1005 AR)
The North Remembers was a success by all accounts and feedback I received. We showed the spirit of the North while honoring some of my favorites with Valeria, Fyrva, Rathlander, and then Weohstan. Each had a task suited to their story. For Valeria, a rousing speech. For Fyrva, we pit them against would be charming assassins. For Rathlander, they fought some our newly blooded beserkers. And then for Weohstan they outran some of House Redrains black hounds.
It came to a tiebreaker between Hammar and Count Maximilian. Part of me thinks I was -too- cruel in my portrayal of Lady Nameless, but then again while they were trying to catch me through the field of traps at least they did not find any of the bear traps I had hidden in the snow. The worse that happened was Hammar found one of the rope traps and ended hanging upside down. Maximilian took the victory.
That social task behind me, I can now start getting together my few men and belongings needed for another trip to Farhaven. Fergus has already taken care of his and I feel like -I- am the lazy one for once rather than him.
On a different note, I dreamt of another one of father's lessons. It was an excursion out into the forests where I learned from him one of my many games of cat and mouse I employ against the Shav's up north. The game itself is best saved for another time, but I remember the aftermath and the man's head upon the pike. Apparently he was the devil upstart who started the entire conflict to begin with. As father planted and anchored the pike into the ice he gruffly opined, "A cleaved head no longer plots. " Succinct wisdom, that is.
It came to a tiebreaker between Hammar and Count Maximilian. Part of me thinks I was -too- cruel in my portrayal of Lady Nameless, but then again while they were trying to catch me through the field of traps at least they did not find any of the bear traps I had hidden in the snow. The worse that happened was Hammar found one of the rope traps and ended hanging upside down. Maximilian took the victory.
That social task behind me, I can now start getting together my few men and belongings needed for another trip to Farhaven. Fergus has already taken care of his and I feel like -I- am the lazy one for once rather than him.
On a different note, I dreamt of another one of father's lessons. It was an excursion out into the forests where I learned from him one of my many games of cat and mouse I employ against the Shav's up north. The game itself is best saved for another time, but I remember the aftermath and the man's head upon the pike. Apparently he was the devil upstart who started the entire conflict to begin with. As father planted and anchored the pike into the ice he gruffly opined, "A cleaved head no longer plots. " Succinct wisdom, that is.
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 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.
Written By Freja
Nov. 6, 2016, 7:49 p.m.(1/18/1005 AR)
Relationship Note on Serafine
She speaks openly about a past many in Arx would make every attempt to conceal. They, whoever they are, say that if you wear your weaknesses as armor than none can use it against you. There goes that chink in the chainmail. Does this woman have any weakness?
She has lost, as I have, but in greater capacity. Then again, who can compare human suffering?
Fuck this, I'm lapsing into poetics for a woman that would smirk at it as much as I tend to.
She eschewed her family to build her own, only to return back to her birthright. She's strong in all the right ways and I can't wait to see where her swords take her. Weapon Preference: Swords, or a barstool?
She has lost, as I have, but in greater capacity. Then again, who can compare human suffering?
Fuck this, I'm lapsing into poetics for a woman that would smirk at it as much as I tend to.
She eschewed her family to build her own, only to return back to her birthright. She's strong in all the right ways and I can't wait to see where her swords take her. Weapon Preference: Swords, or a barstool?
Written By Freja
Nov. 5, 2016, 1:08 p.m.(1/14/1005 AR)
Relationship Note on Lukas
A guard in service of Redrain, from the village of Eoid's Field. I remember the place being very small and just a ways east of Farhaven. The man doesn't have family that he spoke of and seems content with his service as a guard at the villa, but something tells me in his younger years he tried for something more - or had it already. Weapon preference: Sword.
Written By Freja
Oct. 30, 2016, 10:02 p.m.(12/25/1004 AR)
Relationship Note on Sophie
She attended my Shaman seminar, but did not speak up. It wasn't until after it had concluded that conversation was struck up and she asked to speak with me at a later date, more one on one. We are of different faiths, different walks of life, but her intellect and dedication is to be admired. I would be foolish to ignore the lessons I could learn from speaking with her further.
Written By Freja
Oct. 30, 2016, 9:56 p.m.(12/25/1004 AR)
Relationship Note on Natalia
The Grayson approached me for tea, of all things, to start of with. How she got my name or who put it in the hat for her, I do not know. What was an unexpected evening turned into a pleasant one and an oddly sparked friendship. Apparently, her list of grievances and insults incurred is to be given to me to deal with. I think some would call that the equivalent of a 'hit list', but without the gravity of death.
I think I like her because unlike most here in the South, she doesn't seem preoccupied with trying to get me in silks - or out of them for that matter. She is unapologetically herself, flawlessly. I may not be one for weaknesses, but one weakness most seem to have is putting me in the bracket of only being able to recognize martial strengths. The Princess won't be riding into battle or wielding a sword alongside me by any stretch of the imagination, but she does have her own arsenal of another sort. Not all wars are won by steel stained crimson.
I think I like her because unlike most here in the South, she doesn't seem preoccupied with trying to get me in silks - or out of them for that matter. She is unapologetically herself, flawlessly. I may not be one for weaknesses, but one weakness most seem to have is putting me in the bracket of only being able to recognize martial strengths. The Princess won't be riding into battle or wielding a sword alongside me by any stretch of the imagination, but she does have her own arsenal of another sort. Not all wars are won by steel stained crimson.
Written By Freja
Oct. 28, 2016, 10:15 p.m.(12/19/1004 AR)
Relationship Note on Ophelia
Well, scratch that. Ophelia is very much a squealing Princess. Not a prince. Not a nephew. She is his favorite -niece-. Blame it on the whiskey, or two. Or bottle. ...you don't have to record -that- *the ink is scratched here, a few ink splotches trailing down the rest of the page*
Written By Freja
Oct. 28, 2016, 10:12 p.m.(12/19/1004 AR)
Relationship Note on Ophelia
The supposed dearest nephew of Duke Niccolo. I had seen her once before, squealing much to the displeasure of my eardrums at the sight of a foal. Come to find out that apparently she is an avid hunter? Now that I did not see coming. She has expressed an interest in hunting a bear, but I am certain she means the literal animal. Any other metaphorical prey would not end well for her. Either way, I have given her my word to take her hunting either down here in the south or up north. If successful, we'll have matching headdresses. I admit that it would be rather cute. ....I mean, fierce. Fierce? Is that the fashion word Natalia used?
Written By Freja
Oct. 23, 2016, 11:08 p.m.(12/4/1004 AR)
This has been a week of happenstances that I have either orchestrated myself or stumbled into.
First, the Shaman 'meet and greet' (I am stealing the term from Princess Natalia). It was just as I had expected to unfold. Some people came to see the show, while others came to challenge, and a choice few came to learn. All left learning though, which I was adamant in making clear, that Shamanism is not some Shav religion where we write runes in blood upon the altars or some other such nonsense. Where they get the image of 'pagan savage orgies' I will never understand. Have they never tried to stand stark naked in a Northern blizzard before? There are some things even bottles of whiskey can't cure, that cold being one of them. The two to pose the most questions were Duchess Nadia and Princess Donella, the latter being the more thought out curious of the two. Her questions were posed to deliver insight on both parts rather than challenge. A fine woman, though one that requires caution.
Then there was Princess Natalia...and I have now Southern Social Warfare at it's finest. I somehow got swept into not only attending a 'fashion meet and greet', but speaking at it as well. Luckily, I know enough of our wares in the North that I think I was able to sell them on the practicality of wearing furs...the approaching colder season was a blessing of time on my part.
I think Lady Calista was scandalized by the thought of having to cover up. Well, Fergus did say I would shake things up a bit.
I think I made a friend. This..Lady Calypso of the South. If she weren't shorter than I with darker hair and lighter eyes, I would almost call her twin.
First, the Shaman 'meet and greet' (I am stealing the term from Princess Natalia). It was just as I had expected to unfold. Some people came to see the show, while others came to challenge, and a choice few came to learn. All left learning though, which I was adamant in making clear, that Shamanism is not some Shav religion where we write runes in blood upon the altars or some other such nonsense. Where they get the image of 'pagan savage orgies' I will never understand. Have they never tried to stand stark naked in a Northern blizzard before? There are some things even bottles of whiskey can't cure, that cold being one of them. The two to pose the most questions were Duchess Nadia and Princess Donella, the latter being the more thought out curious of the two. Her questions were posed to deliver insight on both parts rather than challenge. A fine woman, though one that requires caution.
Then there was Princess Natalia...and I have now Southern Social Warfare at it's finest. I somehow got swept into not only attending a 'fashion meet and greet', but speaking at it as well. Luckily, I know enough of our wares in the North that I think I was able to sell them on the practicality of wearing furs...the approaching colder season was a blessing of time on my part.
I think Lady Calista was scandalized by the thought of having to cover up. Well, Fergus did say I would shake things up a bit.
I think I made a friend. This..Lady Calypso of the South. If she weren't shorter than I with darker hair and lighter eyes, I would almost call her twin.
Written By Freja
Oct. 23, 2016, 10:55 p.m.(12/4/1004 AR)
Relationship Note on Donella
Darren speaks well of her but she seems more than capable of speaking well for herself at any turn. She is the Voice of Thrax, after all. She attended my Shaman seminar and was keen to ask questions that came across as curiosity rather than inquisition, for which I am thankful. She keeps interesting company, I must say, and while I find her witty insights appealing, I am not about to let down my guard. Not a woman of masks, but a woman of veils; there is something there that gets a faint silhouette, forever hinted at but not yet revealed.
Written By Freja
Oct. 23, 2016, 10:51 p.m.(12/4/1004 AR)
Relationship Note on Calypso
I met this Lady of War at a chance passing by through the training center. It came to be that we were both invited to Princess Natalia's fashion..meet..and..something. I was happy to have someone to sit beside that shares my same fashion of war, or lack thereof.
She has a quick mind and it makes me wonder if her blades are just as quick. The Lady looks like she could be my Southern counterpart, and I will be surprised if we become anything but fast friends.
She has a quick mind and it makes me wonder if her blades are just as quick. The Lady looks like she could be my Southern counterpart, and I will be surprised if we become anything but fast friends.
Please note that the scholars may take some time preparing your journal for others to read.