Written By Orazio
May 3, 2017, 10:14 p.m.(5/23/1006 AR)
To the Faithful Reader:
As a general note, from here unto perpetuity, let it be known that my bird is off limits for all manner of bothering, harm, or molestation. If she attempts to pull out your hair to line the rather magnificent nest she has been building, it is permissible to gently (gently!) flick her beak. Otherwise, leave her be, under pain of my most acute disapproval.
As a general note, from here unto perpetuity, let it be known that my bird is off limits for all manner of bothering, harm, or molestation. If she attempts to pull out your hair to line the rather magnificent nest she has been building, it is permissible to gently (gently!) flick her beak. Otherwise, leave her be, under pain of my most acute disapproval.
Written By Orazio
April 30, 2017, 4:43 p.m.(5/15/1006 AR)
To the Faithful Reader:
There are times when I am humbled by the beauty of the world, and the heart and kindness of its people. Under grave conditions, the men and women of Arx have risen and held themselves with courage and honor. Some have died, others have suffered, but none have broken. Yes, there have been offenses - grave and terrible offenses - committed, but they are by far the minority. Many have banded together to heal and help, to guide and guard. The bravery and compassion shown reminds me of the purpose of the Compact, and the place we stand under the gods' eyes - why we are worthy to help to protect the Dream.
For as long as I breathe, I will hope. And may we never fall to despair.
There are times when I am humbled by the beauty of the world, and the heart and kindness of its people. Under grave conditions, the men and women of Arx have risen and held themselves with courage and honor. Some have died, others have suffered, but none have broken. Yes, there have been offenses - grave and terrible offenses - committed, but they are by far the minority. Many have banded together to heal and help, to guide and guard. The bravery and compassion shown reminds me of the purpose of the Compact, and the place we stand under the gods' eyes - why we are worthy to help to protect the Dream.
For as long as I breathe, I will hope. And may we never fall to despair.
Written By Orazio
April 14, 2017, 5:05 p.m.(4/10/1006 AR)
To the Faithful Reader:
When I was a much, much younger man, I served as a soldier in the military of Southport. It was expected, certainly, but it was also a source of pride for me. The Saik and the Malvici enjoyed a cordial relationship, and it was considered an honor to train and fight alongside the warriors of the Malvici. From those brave men and women, I learned about many things. Among them, Gloria; the goddess had been a distant, barely understood figure in my youth - the Saiklands are small enough that the border skirmishes rarely touched us. But I remember Sister Grace. She was godsworn, and provided most of the spiritual guidance for my division. She had also been a soldier in her own youth, and proved that one can be devout and also swear like a tavern full of angry sailors. Grey-haired, uncompromising when it came to what mattered, but willing provide counsel when one needed it, and a clonk on the head when one needed that.
I needed both, from time to time.
But although I saw her perform many rituals, prayers, and functions over the years of my service, a sequence of events stands out in my mind, and has always been one of the ways that I came to understand Gloria. It was a far patrol, and we came upon a trading caravan that had been attacked by shavs. They had been butchered, one and all, their bodies laid out in gruesome display, corpses desecrated. The caravan had only one real guard; the rest had been simple traders and their children. The sight filled every soldier with horror...and with fury. Our Captain sent out our scouts, and we followed the trail of the shavs for days, back to their camp. We descended like the wrath of Gloria herself, young men and women filled with fire. The fighting was fierce, but the shavs were ill-trained for a real fight, and we cut their warriors down. I remember, in the midst of the fighting, a young shav girl - maybe just past her first decade - picking up a flaming branch from the bonfire and racing at one of my comrades. We both turned. We both raised our blades in the heat of the battle. And Grace, who had been fighting just as fiercely along with us, struck them aside, before kicking the branch out of the girl's hand and knocking her to the ground and out of the fight.
"But why?" we cried out, after we were victorious, and the noncombatants had been driven from Malvici lands. "They were our enemy, even the child!"
"She weren't your enemy, unless you think a child's a fair fight." She spit to one side. "What I've seen of your bladework says you got an argument, mind."
"Our cause is righteous! Look what they did to our people."
"Ayup, and that's why we fought them. But let me tell you something, from Gloria, to me, to you: Righteous ain't a thing you /are/. It's a thing you /do/. The only thing separating you boys from those shavs is that you've got the Pantheon to guide you, to demand better of you, and they got their damned heresies and blood sacrifices. The moment a soldier ain't god his or her honor, they're nothing but a butcher or a thug. Is that what you wanna be?" She was holding that great blade of hers in a way that suggested it was not a rhetorical question, so we both shook our heads. She grunted. "Then mind what you do, because black acts are black, no matter what name you hold."
Some years later, I was still in Southport, serving the Faith and remembering those words when Southport marched to war against Tor. As the reports came in from the battlefields, and as the soldiers of Southport sought out counsel, prayer, and absolution for the orders they had received under Lucien's command, I learned what it meant for a commander to believe that there was no honor in war, and that nothing mattered but stacking up enough bodies to achieve your goal.
If one believes that there is no honor in war, and thus no honor needed by warriors and commanders, then what is left?
When I was a much, much younger man, I served as a soldier in the military of Southport. It was expected, certainly, but it was also a source of pride for me. The Saik and the Malvici enjoyed a cordial relationship, and it was considered an honor to train and fight alongside the warriors of the Malvici. From those brave men and women, I learned about many things. Among them, Gloria; the goddess had been a distant, barely understood figure in my youth - the Saiklands are small enough that the border skirmishes rarely touched us. But I remember Sister Grace. She was godsworn, and provided most of the spiritual guidance for my division. She had also been a soldier in her own youth, and proved that one can be devout and also swear like a tavern full of angry sailors. Grey-haired, uncompromising when it came to what mattered, but willing provide counsel when one needed it, and a clonk on the head when one needed that.
I needed both, from time to time.
But although I saw her perform many rituals, prayers, and functions over the years of my service, a sequence of events stands out in my mind, and has always been one of the ways that I came to understand Gloria. It was a far patrol, and we came upon a trading caravan that had been attacked by shavs. They had been butchered, one and all, their bodies laid out in gruesome display, corpses desecrated. The caravan had only one real guard; the rest had been simple traders and their children. The sight filled every soldier with horror...and with fury. Our Captain sent out our scouts, and we followed the trail of the shavs for days, back to their camp. We descended like the wrath of Gloria herself, young men and women filled with fire. The fighting was fierce, but the shavs were ill-trained for a real fight, and we cut their warriors down. I remember, in the midst of the fighting, a young shav girl - maybe just past her first decade - picking up a flaming branch from the bonfire and racing at one of my comrades. We both turned. We both raised our blades in the heat of the battle. And Grace, who had been fighting just as fiercely along with us, struck them aside, before kicking the branch out of the girl's hand and knocking her to the ground and out of the fight.
"But why?" we cried out, after we were victorious, and the noncombatants had been driven from Malvici lands. "They were our enemy, even the child!"
"She weren't your enemy, unless you think a child's a fair fight." She spit to one side. "What I've seen of your bladework says you got an argument, mind."
"Our cause is righteous! Look what they did to our people."
"Ayup, and that's why we fought them. But let me tell you something, from Gloria, to me, to you: Righteous ain't a thing you /are/. It's a thing you /do/. The only thing separating you boys from those shavs is that you've got the Pantheon to guide you, to demand better of you, and they got their damned heresies and blood sacrifices. The moment a soldier ain't god his or her honor, they're nothing but a butcher or a thug. Is that what you wanna be?" She was holding that great blade of hers in a way that suggested it was not a rhetorical question, so we both shook our heads. She grunted. "Then mind what you do, because black acts are black, no matter what name you hold."
Some years later, I was still in Southport, serving the Faith and remembering those words when Southport marched to war against Tor. As the reports came in from the battlefields, and as the soldiers of Southport sought out counsel, prayer, and absolution for the orders they had received under Lucien's command, I learned what it meant for a commander to believe that there was no honor in war, and that nothing mattered but stacking up enough bodies to achieve your goal.
If one believes that there is no honor in war, and thus no honor needed by warriors and commanders, then what is left?
Written By Orazio
April 10, 2017, 11:21 p.m.(4/2/1006 AR)
To the Faithful Reader:
A long list of horrors occupies my sleepless thoughts of late, and my nightmares - ever fertile ground - have an ever-widening array of seeds from which to grow a bountiful harvest. And yet, on this night, as I study the reports in front of me, accounts of those lost, honorably and otherwise, it is not to the recent past that my mind returns.
Sometimes, it does not seem very long ago that I was a very young man in the Saiklands, a man with a large family, and parents who had in the last few years been blessed with twins, my youngest siblings. I was the second born, and I suspect that many who only know me since I joined the Faith would be surprised at that young man, before he changed completely.
You see, that was the summer plague came to the Saiklands.
It began among the workers in the vineyards, as a peculiar rash that began on the forearms. It spread quickly, and I remember how the summer heat beat down on the shelters we erected to try and quarantine the sick. My father ordered my eldest brother away; he was the heir, and the hope of the main family's continuing line. I stayed, for the rash had already appeared on my mother's arms, and my other brother was studying in Arx. The twins caught it next. They were too young to understand why their mother was too weak to hold them, or why their bodies had suddenly become prisons of agony. A toddler does not understand the concept of plague. They wish to be held by their parents. They want their big brother to take the pain away. They beg, and when begging fails, they cry. I remember that it took them almost a fortnight to die, and how they screamed from the fourth day until their throats became so swollen and bloodied that all the noise they could make was a throaty croak, rising and falling with their labored breaths. I remember how the plague pustules grew and swelled, turning purple and hard beneath their delicate skin, until it seemed like the Saikland's grapes were trying to be born from their thrashing, sweat-soaked bodies. I remember working with the house healer, making draughts of drugged wine to try and give them a few moments of peace, here and there. I remember finding their still bodies, already going rigid, and breathing a prayer to Lagoma that she, in her mercy, had finally allowed them to escape back to her side.
My parents took longer to die, being stronger and better able to care for themselves. Once their strength failed, the healer and I worked to keep them as cool as possible, to change them and bathe them, and dose them. After the healer caught the disease, I worked alone, trying to make them as comfortable as I could while I watched the light in their eyes burn and burn and burn until there was nothing left but ashes and meat, which we, the survivors, buried.
I can say, without any doubt or hesitation, that without the plague, I would not be where I am today. I certainly would not have joined the Faith; there is something about seeing injustice on such a horrific scale that makes the heart and soul yearn for light. I can also say that I would not inflict that experience on even the worst of my enemies. Not even those whose humanity is doubtful or nonexistent, and certainly not on noncombatants. Tens of thousands.
May the gods have mercy on our souls, although sometimes I doubt that we deserve it.
A long list of horrors occupies my sleepless thoughts of late, and my nightmares - ever fertile ground - have an ever-widening array of seeds from which to grow a bountiful harvest. And yet, on this night, as I study the reports in front of me, accounts of those lost, honorably and otherwise, it is not to the recent past that my mind returns.
Sometimes, it does not seem very long ago that I was a very young man in the Saiklands, a man with a large family, and parents who had in the last few years been blessed with twins, my youngest siblings. I was the second born, and I suspect that many who only know me since I joined the Faith would be surprised at that young man, before he changed completely.
You see, that was the summer plague came to the Saiklands.
It began among the workers in the vineyards, as a peculiar rash that began on the forearms. It spread quickly, and I remember how the summer heat beat down on the shelters we erected to try and quarantine the sick. My father ordered my eldest brother away; he was the heir, and the hope of the main family's continuing line. I stayed, for the rash had already appeared on my mother's arms, and my other brother was studying in Arx. The twins caught it next. They were too young to understand why their mother was too weak to hold them, or why their bodies had suddenly become prisons of agony. A toddler does not understand the concept of plague. They wish to be held by their parents. They want their big brother to take the pain away. They beg, and when begging fails, they cry. I remember that it took them almost a fortnight to die, and how they screamed from the fourth day until their throats became so swollen and bloodied that all the noise they could make was a throaty croak, rising and falling with their labored breaths. I remember how the plague pustules grew and swelled, turning purple and hard beneath their delicate skin, until it seemed like the Saikland's grapes were trying to be born from their thrashing, sweat-soaked bodies. I remember working with the house healer, making draughts of drugged wine to try and give them a few moments of peace, here and there. I remember finding their still bodies, already going rigid, and breathing a prayer to Lagoma that she, in her mercy, had finally allowed them to escape back to her side.
My parents took longer to die, being stronger and better able to care for themselves. Once their strength failed, the healer and I worked to keep them as cool as possible, to change them and bathe them, and dose them. After the healer caught the disease, I worked alone, trying to make them as comfortable as I could while I watched the light in their eyes burn and burn and burn until there was nothing left but ashes and meat, which we, the survivors, buried.
I can say, without any doubt or hesitation, that without the plague, I would not be where I am today. I certainly would not have joined the Faith; there is something about seeing injustice on such a horrific scale that makes the heart and soul yearn for light. I can also say that I would not inflict that experience on even the worst of my enemies. Not even those whose humanity is doubtful or nonexistent, and certainly not on noncombatants. Tens of thousands.
May the gods have mercy on our souls, although sometimes I doubt that we deserve it.
Written By Orazio
March 27, 2017, 12:11 a.m.(3/1/1006 AR)
The Battle of the Seawatch Gate
Rarely have I seen such courage and bravery as I saw from the men and women of the Compact on that occasion. The Knights of Solace and the Templars, although fired to fury by the sight of their brethren risen as unholy standards above the army, never lost sight of their discipline, and under the command of Sir Armel, they hewed and cut like avenging Seraphs. But by no means was it the Faith alone that fought.
The battlements were manned by some of the finest archers I have ever seen, and they continued to fire even as the foul powers of the enemy became clear. Princess Deva struck out at the leader of the army herself, and I hear her shot was true and powerful. Captain Tobias and Lady Maude provided fantastic strategies, keeping the troops moving to fill gaps and push back against each enemy advance. The melee was a fury of fighting - I confess that my aging eyes found it hard to sort out individual battle victories there, but I know that they existed, and I am sure that those of better eyes will tell the tale for years to come.
In the end, we held the line. The enemy was forced to retreat, and now it stands around our walls, bent on our destruction. We have already proved that we will be no easy kill. Now, with the gods on our side, I know that we will triumph. I wish I could say that it would be a bloodless victory, but I know that we will lose a lot of good men and women. There will be funeral rites a-plenty to prepare. But still, we will stand. And in the end, we will triumph.
Rarely have I seen such courage and bravery as I saw from the men and women of the Compact on that occasion. The Knights of Solace and the Templars, although fired to fury by the sight of their brethren risen as unholy standards above the army, never lost sight of their discipline, and under the command of Sir Armel, they hewed and cut like avenging Seraphs. But by no means was it the Faith alone that fought.
The battlements were manned by some of the finest archers I have ever seen, and they continued to fire even as the foul powers of the enemy became clear. Princess Deva struck out at the leader of the army herself, and I hear her shot was true and powerful. Captain Tobias and Lady Maude provided fantastic strategies, keeping the troops moving to fill gaps and push back against each enemy advance. The melee was a fury of fighting - I confess that my aging eyes found it hard to sort out individual battle victories there, but I know that they existed, and I am sure that those of better eyes will tell the tale for years to come.
In the end, we held the line. The enemy was forced to retreat, and now it stands around our walls, bent on our destruction. We have already proved that we will be no easy kill. Now, with the gods on our side, I know that we will triumph. I wish I could say that it would be a bloodless victory, but I know that we will lose a lot of good men and women. There will be funeral rites a-plenty to prepare. But still, we will stand. And in the end, we will triumph.
Written By Orazio
March 25, 2017, 5:13 p.m.(2/26/1006 AR)
Relationship Note on Aleksei
For all that I might tease him (for he is so VERY tease-worthy, in the way the young often are), it fills my heart with pleasure and with pride to see him step into the Faith, and commit himself to the service of the gods. I know it frightens him. But to stand and face one's fears because one feels that something must be done? That is the courage that the gods themselves love.
Welcome home, Brother Aleksei.
Welcome home, Brother Aleksei.
Written By Orazio
March 24, 2017, 7:24 p.m.(2/24/1006 AR)
Relationship Note on Selene
The Compact exists as it does today because of the work of the Whispers. Many see them only in their brightest public guise - entertainers and trendsetters who fascinate all with their grace and composure. But those of us who are students of history recognize how often it has been the smile of a Whisper that has averted war, and the word of a Whisper that has created an enduring alliance. Sadly, underutilized in these recent days when they have been needed most, the Whisper House, and its Radiant, still shine.
Written By Orazio
March 17, 2017, 11:38 p.m.(2/11/1006 AR)
Relationship Note on Fairen
Intelligent, well-mannered, and pleasant company. A most welcome new acquaintance.
Written By Orazio
March 17, 2017, 10:15 p.m.(2/10/1006 AR)
To the Faithful Reader:
Many among those who worship in the Compact wonder under what circumstances it is righteous to take a life. The most well-meaning among them might say that we should strive never to kill, even our enemies. That the gods do not desire bloodshed, nor the death of others, whatever evils they might have committed. That every dead shav or pirate is just as much a tragedy as a dead man or woman of the Compact.
I fear I must disagree, in part. Every human soul has, at birth, the same inherent worth, it is true. But throughout our lives we make choices. We choose to stand for righteousness, or to become predators on our fellows. We choose to bend our knee to the true Gods, or to embrace heresies. And we choose to defend the Compact, or to raise blade against it. We prove loyal to our vows of fealty, or we betray those who count on our service.
With these choices come consequences. Justice, true justice, is not without mercy to the repentant and those who seek redemption. But it also demands that transgressors receive their dues for their crimes. To spare an unrepentant murderer is not mercy. It is not just to torment such a twisted soul, nor to make of his or her death a spectacle. They receive their right to combat as anyone might. But to fail to execute an unrepentant murderer is injustice, itself. Likewise, when an enemy raises a blade against the Compact, in the absence of their surrender, there is no shame and no sin in killing them before they kill you, or your fellow warriors, or the innocent you protect. To hesitate is the crime, for it enables the enemy to kill more of the Compact's people - perhaps including yourself, but certainly including your fellow soldiers and those whose bodies and lives you shield with your steel.
Take no joy in the blood spilt, or the life taken. But take joy in your skill. Take joy in knowing that you stand between the Compact and that which would destroy it. Righteous war is the province of Gloria, and not something to be ashamed of. Fight with honor, treat your enemies with honor, and if they will not yield, deliver them to the judgement of the gods.
Many among those who worship in the Compact wonder under what circumstances it is righteous to take a life. The most well-meaning among them might say that we should strive never to kill, even our enemies. That the gods do not desire bloodshed, nor the death of others, whatever evils they might have committed. That every dead shav or pirate is just as much a tragedy as a dead man or woman of the Compact.
I fear I must disagree, in part. Every human soul has, at birth, the same inherent worth, it is true. But throughout our lives we make choices. We choose to stand for righteousness, or to become predators on our fellows. We choose to bend our knee to the true Gods, or to embrace heresies. And we choose to defend the Compact, or to raise blade against it. We prove loyal to our vows of fealty, or we betray those who count on our service.
With these choices come consequences. Justice, true justice, is not without mercy to the repentant and those who seek redemption. But it also demands that transgressors receive their dues for their crimes. To spare an unrepentant murderer is not mercy. It is not just to torment such a twisted soul, nor to make of his or her death a spectacle. They receive their right to combat as anyone might. But to fail to execute an unrepentant murderer is injustice, itself. Likewise, when an enemy raises a blade against the Compact, in the absence of their surrender, there is no shame and no sin in killing them before they kill you, or your fellow warriors, or the innocent you protect. To hesitate is the crime, for it enables the enemy to kill more of the Compact's people - perhaps including yourself, but certainly including your fellow soldiers and those whose bodies and lives you shield with your steel.
Take no joy in the blood spilt, or the life taken. But take joy in your skill. Take joy in knowing that you stand between the Compact and that which would destroy it. Righteous war is the province of Gloria, and not something to be ashamed of. Fight with honor, treat your enemies with honor, and if they will not yield, deliver them to the judgement of the gods.
Written By Orazio
March 15, 2017, 10:53 a.m.(2/5/1006 AR)
To the Faithful Reader:
Please be aware that, although devotion is appreciated by the gods, the shrines of the Pantheon are not meant to substitute for inns, bedrooms, or hospices. Please do not sleep in the shrines.
Please be aware that, although devotion is appreciated by the gods, the shrines of the Pantheon are not meant to substitute for inns, bedrooms, or hospices. Please do not sleep in the shrines.
Written By Orazio
March 12, 2017, 2:14 p.m.(1/28/1006 AR)
To the Faithful Reader:
For those reading this in the future, assuming that there are any (readers, or future), know this: On 1/28/1006 AR, the city of Arx received a visitation from one of the gods of the Pantheon. As Legate of Concepts, I believe and hold that this visitation was true, and divine in origin. This visitation was in the form of a dream, shared by many - perhaps all - of the faithful. It warned us of the terrible threat facing the city from the hordes of shav tribes marching on the city. A threat that goes beyond the merely physical threat of being conquered and killed, but which speaks to the possibility of unleashing an apocalyptic terror known as the Silence on the world. Once before, the Silence threatened, and was resisted by the cooperation of Compact and Nox'Alfar. Since then, of course, that ancient treaty has been thrown away, and those responsible for doing so have characterized the Teind as useless, and slandered the Nox'Alfar by saying that they never intended delivering on their part of the treaty. Through divine intervention, we now know beyond all doubt that the ritual aided the survival of the Compact. And although the Nox'Alfar are no longer bound by treaty, alaricite weapons have been distributed by their kindness, without asking anything in return, to warriors among us, so that they may raise blades against the darkness that threatens.
We do not stand unready. Many people and organizations, from the Lower Burroughs all the way up to the High Lords, have worked to organize the defenses. Our soldiers are well-trained. The Faith has recalled its holy Templars and Knights of Solace from around the Compact to defend the realm against those who would raise blades against the gods themselves. The Crown, the Faith, and even private organizations such as Black Mountain have gathered food and supplies to keep our people fed and warm throughout the siege, if that siege happens. Mercies and healers stand by to aid the wounded and the lost. Refugees are being housed across the city. We are not helpless. We are the men and women who stand blessed by courage, by hope, by faith, and we stand on the side of justice and righteousness. To every man and woman of Arx, even the many who will never read this, I lay this charge: raise your hands in aid to your brother, your sister, and your lords. Volunteer to build defenses, to make bandages and poultices. Speak kindly to your fellows, and do not listen to those who may urge betrayal and cowardice. Make it clear to all our enemies that we are not easily bent, nor broken.
As the enemy approaches, the Compact will stand. And, with the grace of the gods and the work of our own hands, we will win.
For those reading this in the future, assuming that there are any (readers, or future), know this: On 1/28/1006 AR, the city of Arx received a visitation from one of the gods of the Pantheon. As Legate of Concepts, I believe and hold that this visitation was true, and divine in origin. This visitation was in the form of a dream, shared by many - perhaps all - of the faithful. It warned us of the terrible threat facing the city from the hordes of shav tribes marching on the city. A threat that goes beyond the merely physical threat of being conquered and killed, but which speaks to the possibility of unleashing an apocalyptic terror known as the Silence on the world. Once before, the Silence threatened, and was resisted by the cooperation of Compact and Nox'Alfar. Since then, of course, that ancient treaty has been thrown away, and those responsible for doing so have characterized the Teind as useless, and slandered the Nox'Alfar by saying that they never intended delivering on their part of the treaty. Through divine intervention, we now know beyond all doubt that the ritual aided the survival of the Compact. And although the Nox'Alfar are no longer bound by treaty, alaricite weapons have been distributed by their kindness, without asking anything in return, to warriors among us, so that they may raise blades against the darkness that threatens.
We do not stand unready. Many people and organizations, from the Lower Burroughs all the way up to the High Lords, have worked to organize the defenses. Our soldiers are well-trained. The Faith has recalled its holy Templars and Knights of Solace from around the Compact to defend the realm against those who would raise blades against the gods themselves. The Crown, the Faith, and even private organizations such as Black Mountain have gathered food and supplies to keep our people fed and warm throughout the siege, if that siege happens. Mercies and healers stand by to aid the wounded and the lost. Refugees are being housed across the city. We are not helpless. We are the men and women who stand blessed by courage, by hope, by faith, and we stand on the side of justice and righteousness. To every man and woman of Arx, even the many who will never read this, I lay this charge: raise your hands in aid to your brother, your sister, and your lords. Volunteer to build defenses, to make bandages and poultices. Speak kindly to your fellows, and do not listen to those who may urge betrayal and cowardice. Make it clear to all our enemies that we are not easily bent, nor broken.
As the enemy approaches, the Compact will stand. And, with the grace of the gods and the work of our own hands, we will win.
Written By Orazio
March 11, 2017, 4:56 p.m.(1/26/1006 AR)
Relationship Note on Castiel
An unusual sort of Thrax - the blade this one wields most openly is his mind, with his tongue being a fine offhand weapon.
Written By Orazio
March 10, 2017, 5:19 p.m.(1/24/1006 AR)
To the Faithful Reader:
I am more often, in these days, beginning to hear people speak of their Faith in the singular - as a worshiper of a particular god, rather than the Pantheon. Certainly, I can understand the impulse; of the gods, certain concepts might call to you more deeply than others. I, myself, dedicated myself to the Sentinel, for the concepts of justice and redemption are close to my heart and soul. However, I am not a priest of only the Sentinel. I serve the Pantheon, and all gods within it. Why? Well, there are both the practical reasons and the theological. The practical reasons are not particularly entertaining, and thus I will sum them up with: there are not enough godsworn to have each of us simply decide that we will learn the rites and duties of one god, and not the rest. Those who are willing to truly devote themselves to the Faith above all others are small in number, although great in heart. That every god receives its due, and that ever member of the faithful is able to find priestly counsel and aid, we serve all.
But, more than that, it is a matter of theology. No one god is raised above the rest in the Pantheon, and there is a reason for that. The gods are the highest ideals that we, as humans, may aspire to. While we might be called to justice, say, we may not pursue justice at the cost of charity, or honor, or courage. We cannot be stewards of the land, while abusing the seas. To acknowledge one god's greater weight on your heart is one thing, but I urge you to look beyond the easy choice, and understand and appreciate the virtues that each god of the Pantheon offers to we mortals. If you are a devotee of Gild, I urge you to contemplate the beauty of the sea, or the creation of new life in the womb of the earth. If Petrichor has always called to you, walk the streets of your city or your village and open your heart to the beauties of civilization. If you have always felt most at home when pursuing Vellichor's knowledge, take some time to speak and learn from a soldier about the courage on the battlefield, and the knowledge of blade and staff.
It does every one of us good to embrace the virtues of each of the gods, not just the one we are closest to.
I am more often, in these days, beginning to hear people speak of their Faith in the singular - as a worshiper of a particular god, rather than the Pantheon. Certainly, I can understand the impulse; of the gods, certain concepts might call to you more deeply than others. I, myself, dedicated myself to the Sentinel, for the concepts of justice and redemption are close to my heart and soul. However, I am not a priest of only the Sentinel. I serve the Pantheon, and all gods within it. Why? Well, there are both the practical reasons and the theological. The practical reasons are not particularly entertaining, and thus I will sum them up with: there are not enough godsworn to have each of us simply decide that we will learn the rites and duties of one god, and not the rest. Those who are willing to truly devote themselves to the Faith above all others are small in number, although great in heart. That every god receives its due, and that ever member of the faithful is able to find priestly counsel and aid, we serve all.
But, more than that, it is a matter of theology. No one god is raised above the rest in the Pantheon, and there is a reason for that. The gods are the highest ideals that we, as humans, may aspire to. While we might be called to justice, say, we may not pursue justice at the cost of charity, or honor, or courage. We cannot be stewards of the land, while abusing the seas. To acknowledge one god's greater weight on your heart is one thing, but I urge you to look beyond the easy choice, and understand and appreciate the virtues that each god of the Pantheon offers to we mortals. If you are a devotee of Gild, I urge you to contemplate the beauty of the sea, or the creation of new life in the womb of the earth. If Petrichor has always called to you, walk the streets of your city or your village and open your heart to the beauties of civilization. If you have always felt most at home when pursuing Vellichor's knowledge, take some time to speak and learn from a soldier about the courage on the battlefield, and the knowledge of blade and staff.
It does every one of us good to embrace the virtues of each of the gods, not just the one we are closest to.
Written By Orazio
Feb. 28, 2017, 12:01 a.m.(1/3/1006 AR)
The livid lightnings flashed in the clouds;
The leaden thunders crashed.
A worshipper raised his arm.
"Hearken! Hearken! The voice of the gods!"
"Not so," said a man.
"The voices of the gods whisper in the heart
So softly
That the soul pauses,
Making no noise,
And strives for these melodies,
Distant, sighing, like faintest breath,
And all the being is still to hear."
Not my own work, alas, but found in a poet's white journal from three generations ago. One of my favorite poets, as it happens; his is the journal of a man who has struggled with faith, and with the Faith, and I honor those struggles whenever I re-read his work, even when it can be a touch too bitter for my taste. But then, the greatest struggles, the gravest contemplations, often ARE bitter, at least in part. Because they challenge us in a way that no honorable blade can ever reach. The trick is to respect the bitterness, but never give into it. It is the scar that reflects a hard battle, not the blow that cripples a limb past any Mercy's art.
The leaden thunders crashed.
A worshipper raised his arm.
"Hearken! Hearken! The voice of the gods!"
"Not so," said a man.
"The voices of the gods whisper in the heart
So softly
That the soul pauses,
Making no noise,
And strives for these melodies,
Distant, sighing, like faintest breath,
And all the being is still to hear."
Not my own work, alas, but found in a poet's white journal from three generations ago. One of my favorite poets, as it happens; his is the journal of a man who has struggled with faith, and with the Faith, and I honor those struggles whenever I re-read his work, even when it can be a touch too bitter for my taste. But then, the greatest struggles, the gravest contemplations, often ARE bitter, at least in part. Because they challenge us in a way that no honorable blade can ever reach. The trick is to respect the bitterness, but never give into it. It is the scar that reflects a hard battle, not the blow that cripples a limb past any Mercy's art.
Written By Orazio
Feb. 26, 2017, 8:47 p.m.(12/28/1005 AR)
Relationship Note on Victus
I have made no particular secret of my disapproval of the way Prince Victus ascended to the position of High Lord. Such a bloody violation of the laws of fealty cannot be approve of by Limerance, or those of us who represent him. That opinion has not changed.
However, I also cannot refuse to give credit where credit is due. While the gender segregation of the Isles is not the deepest and most persistent injustice inflicted there, to address any injustice must be recognized. So, to Prince Victus, I must say well done. And to all the vassal houses who choose to follow him in this righteous actions, well done as well.
However, I also cannot refuse to give credit where credit is due. While the gender segregation of the Isles is not the deepest and most persistent injustice inflicted there, to address any injustice must be recognized. So, to Prince Victus, I must say well done. And to all the vassal houses who choose to follow him in this righteous actions, well done as well.
Written By Orazio
Feb. 26, 2017, 7:32 p.m.(12/28/1005 AR)
To the Faithful Reader:
Many of my duties over the last year have been sad ones, or hard ones, and ones which have caused anger and sorrow more than joy. I am not entirely unaccustomed to this - the appearance of a priest sworn to the Sentinel does not often engender happiness, and our judgements are rarely pleasing to all parties involved, however rooted in justice or the law they might be. It is what my duty is, and I accept and embrace that.
Still, there is a great joy in - for once - delivering only good news and seeing happiness bloom in the souls you speak to. It is enough to make one wish to take up crafting and swear oneself to Jayus. I urge any of the readers of this journal to look at the people in their lives, and choose for at least one of them a heartfelt gift. There is little to compare to it.
Many of my duties over the last year have been sad ones, or hard ones, and ones which have caused anger and sorrow more than joy. I am not entirely unaccustomed to this - the appearance of a priest sworn to the Sentinel does not often engender happiness, and our judgements are rarely pleasing to all parties involved, however rooted in justice or the law they might be. It is what my duty is, and I accept and embrace that.
Still, there is a great joy in - for once - delivering only good news and seeing happiness bloom in the souls you speak to. It is enough to make one wish to take up crafting and swear oneself to Jayus. I urge any of the readers of this journal to look at the people in their lives, and choose for at least one of them a heartfelt gift. There is little to compare to it.
Written By Orazio
Feb. 19, 2017, 3:55 p.m.(12/14/1005 AR)
Relationship Note on Arcelia
A niece from the branch family. It is good to have another Saik in the city, and I feel certain that she will be fine company for Kima. And, hopefully, a chance to make a marriage alliance for the family - the Saiks have experienced far too much loss, and I hope that the gods see fit to grant them abundance in the next generations. Of the lady herself, I have nothing but praise. She is young, and looking for a purpose; I think she will find one in her own time, and we will all be the better for it. She strikes me as kind and soft-spoken. I hope to spend more time with her in the future.
Written By Orazio
Feb. 19, 2017, 12:40 p.m.(12/14/1005 AR)
To the Faithful Reader:
It is difficult to find the right words to express certain things about faith, and devotion to the Pantheon. Understand that when I speak, I come from the perspective of a man who gave up a noble title, and all hope of marriage to advance my family's needs, or children to raise and love as my own. A man who has served the gods for over twenty years, and has seen many come to, and leave, the devotion of the Faith. I do not regret this sacrifice. I did what my heart led me to do, and I do not condemn others for not following my footsteps. Duty to one's family, to one's name, is important. One serves Limerance as well in a marriage, as a parent, or a stalwart vassal or liege, as one does a priest. We are all called to our paths.
However, it disturbs me - offends me, if I must be honest - to see the gods approached as a means to an end, rather than as those who we follow in faith and trust. To see the blessings offered not as gifts to be humbly accepted and celebrated, but as tools to be used, mere mechanics to be followed simply for the effects that they might have. To see the Faith mocked and scorned with one hand, its authority disdained, while blessings are pleaded for with the other. More, to see people turn to any tradition that might give them the effects that they seek - caring not whether it is the Faith of the Pantheon, or shamanism. I wonder if the shamans feel any of the same concern that I do, to see so many of the nobility turn to talk of spirits and old gods not because they have any desire to worship or respect those traditions, but because those things might be useful. Because it is not faith that motivates such demands, but desire for power. Ah, but I know some will say, power is needed. We face a dire threat, one with power of its own in warriors and other resources. We must use every available resource to its fullest extent, or we shall lose.
I say, in return, that the gods of the Pantheon are not a resource to be used. Prayer is not simply mouthing the right words, making the right gestures, and getting the effect that you asked for in return. It had been my hope, as times began to grow dark, that we might see a revitalization of worship, a return to faith for those who had so long simply paid tithe, attended the occasional service, and mouthed the gods names at the right times. Instead, we are in danger of moving from apathy to idolatry, a desire to use the gods through the trappings of the Faith without asking of the gods, "What is your desire for me? What can I do to show you my devotion?"
But, Father, I may hear someone say, does this mean it is an offense to ask for the blessings of the gods? To ask for lands to be consecrated, the sick to be healed, and to pray for miracles? Of course not. The Faith has always provided blessings to the faithful. We have always consecrated lands and made them holy. We have always asked for the sick to be blessed by Lagoma...and then we have dispatched Mercies to do the work with our own hands, as well. The Faith has never ceased in these activities, even if they have gone unregarded and unremarked when the perceived 'need' is not as great. I only ask that before one asks a favor of the gods, one also asks, "What would the gods have of me?" and commits to seeing that through, whether the gods choose to grant your request or not.
It is difficult to find the right words to express certain things about faith, and devotion to the Pantheon. Understand that when I speak, I come from the perspective of a man who gave up a noble title, and all hope of marriage to advance my family's needs, or children to raise and love as my own. A man who has served the gods for over twenty years, and has seen many come to, and leave, the devotion of the Faith. I do not regret this sacrifice. I did what my heart led me to do, and I do not condemn others for not following my footsteps. Duty to one's family, to one's name, is important. One serves Limerance as well in a marriage, as a parent, or a stalwart vassal or liege, as one does a priest. We are all called to our paths.
However, it disturbs me - offends me, if I must be honest - to see the gods approached as a means to an end, rather than as those who we follow in faith and trust. To see the blessings offered not as gifts to be humbly accepted and celebrated, but as tools to be used, mere mechanics to be followed simply for the effects that they might have. To see the Faith mocked and scorned with one hand, its authority disdained, while blessings are pleaded for with the other. More, to see people turn to any tradition that might give them the effects that they seek - caring not whether it is the Faith of the Pantheon, or shamanism. I wonder if the shamans feel any of the same concern that I do, to see so many of the nobility turn to talk of spirits and old gods not because they have any desire to worship or respect those traditions, but because those things might be useful. Because it is not faith that motivates such demands, but desire for power. Ah, but I know some will say, power is needed. We face a dire threat, one with power of its own in warriors and other resources. We must use every available resource to its fullest extent, or we shall lose.
I say, in return, that the gods of the Pantheon are not a resource to be used. Prayer is not simply mouthing the right words, making the right gestures, and getting the effect that you asked for in return. It had been my hope, as times began to grow dark, that we might see a revitalization of worship, a return to faith for those who had so long simply paid tithe, attended the occasional service, and mouthed the gods names at the right times. Instead, we are in danger of moving from apathy to idolatry, a desire to use the gods through the trappings of the Faith without asking of the gods, "What is your desire for me? What can I do to show you my devotion?"
But, Father, I may hear someone say, does this mean it is an offense to ask for the blessings of the gods? To ask for lands to be consecrated, the sick to be healed, and to pray for miracles? Of course not. The Faith has always provided blessings to the faithful. We have always consecrated lands and made them holy. We have always asked for the sick to be blessed by Lagoma...and then we have dispatched Mercies to do the work with our own hands, as well. The Faith has never ceased in these activities, even if they have gone unregarded and unremarked when the perceived 'need' is not as great. I only ask that before one asks a favor of the gods, one also asks, "What would the gods have of me?" and commits to seeing that through, whether the gods choose to grant your request or not.
Written By Orazio
Feb. 6, 2017, 10:24 a.m.(11/12/1005 AR)
Relationship Note on Aldwin
To the Faithful Reader:
I have known Aldwin for many years. Ever since I was reassigned to Arx, as a freshly-minted Archlector, getting lost in the halls of the Rectory and complaining about the cold. In a world where even the pious can sometimes regard their new peers as rivals, the then-Archscholar stood out for his warm welcome, and his kind assistance in ensuring that I knew what I needed to know, in order to best serve the Sentinel and the Faith.
Since then, this first impression has has only been reinforced. Our new Dominus is a man of uncommon wisdom, as one might expect from one who served so long as the Voice of Vellichor. But more, he is a man who exemplifies the virtues of the Pantheon that we all strive to fulfill. I can think of no better choice to lead the Faith, and the Faithful, in these times of confusion and conflict.
May the gods bless Dominus Aldwin, Voice of the Pantheon, Closest to the Gods.
I have known Aldwin for many years. Ever since I was reassigned to Arx, as a freshly-minted Archlector, getting lost in the halls of the Rectory and complaining about the cold. In a world where even the pious can sometimes regard their new peers as rivals, the then-Archscholar stood out for his warm welcome, and his kind assistance in ensuring that I knew what I needed to know, in order to best serve the Sentinel and the Faith.
Since then, this first impression has has only been reinforced. Our new Dominus is a man of uncommon wisdom, as one might expect from one who served so long as the Voice of Vellichor. But more, he is a man who exemplifies the virtues of the Pantheon that we all strive to fulfill. I can think of no better choice to lead the Faith, and the Faithful, in these times of confusion and conflict.
May the gods bless Dominus Aldwin, Voice of the Pantheon, Closest to the Gods.
Written By Orazio
Feb. 2, 2017, 4:24 p.m.(11/1/1005 AR)
To the Faithful Reader:
It is in the extremes that one grows to understand the strength of one's connections and the truth of one's friendships. Sometimes, it is simply in the kindnesses shown, be it a selection of exquisite teas, the impromptu rearrangement of one's sleeping quarters, or any number of cherished messages sent by those close to my heart. We are a strong and passionate people, the Arvani. Often, this very strength and passion can lead us into impasse and conflict, torn apart by competing duties or desires; as a man, I have often tried to moderate and disperse this passion, to replace it (or at least to channel it) with the cooler, harder substances of reason and intellect.
But it is good to be reminded, once in a while, that it is our passions which urge people close, and hold the bonds between us fast even when reason and intellect might suggest we should pull away. Never be ashamed of your regard and affection for another, faithful readers, even though the world may tell you it is foolish. Do not allow it to tempt you into dishonor or away from the gods' path, but do not be ashamed. Limerance is, after all, the god of Love and Fidelity.
It is in the extremes that one grows to understand the strength of one's connections and the truth of one's friendships. Sometimes, it is simply in the kindnesses shown, be it a selection of exquisite teas, the impromptu rearrangement of one's sleeping quarters, or any number of cherished messages sent by those close to my heart. We are a strong and passionate people, the Arvani. Often, this very strength and passion can lead us into impasse and conflict, torn apart by competing duties or desires; as a man, I have often tried to moderate and disperse this passion, to replace it (or at least to channel it) with the cooler, harder substances of reason and intellect.
But it is good to be reminded, once in a while, that it is our passions which urge people close, and hold the bonds between us fast even when reason and intellect might suggest we should pull away. Never be ashamed of your regard and affection for another, faithful readers, even though the world may tell you it is foolish. Do not allow it to tempt you into dishonor or away from the gods' path, but do not be ashamed. Limerance is, after all, the god of Love and Fidelity.
Please note that the scholars may take some time preparing your journal for others to read.