An Oasis of Salvation

[Limonhearted 174]

Brothers and Sisters,

 

With war outstanding and its presence seared into the public consciousness—into our very souls and minds—it is all too easy to become distracted. To see the world only in tinges of darkness, to paint it in bleak strokes, and to overlook the seeds of goodness that bloom amidst the ruin.

 

Yet even in the deepest night, light persists, piercing through a twisted perception. It is in these times, above all, that we must hold our heads high. Regardless of circumstance or happenings, we must press forward, unwavering, and continue to spread the wondrous message of the Most Merciful.

 

Earlier, I was given the express privilege of welcoming another into the flock—a lost soul, one bound to the tribal customs of the desert, ensnared by the brash and abrasive nature that often dooms it. Alongside a fellow brother and preacher of the Canonist faith, I ventured deep into the heart of the harshlands, into the stronghold of the Horde of Many Tribes, where we spread the message of the Most Merciful, acting in tenderhearted faith.

 

But it is in such wicked places that the faithful must act. With unwavering devotion to the faith and a singular focus on its divine interests, we must extend an olive branch to the lost—those who wander this world blind to the light, their hearts hardened by ignorance.

 

A child—one still closest to the heart of GOD, untainted by the corruption of this world—stood among them. An Uruk, no less. And yet, this young one listened. He spoke of his uncleanliness, of how the world had dimmed his appreciation for something greater. Against the tide of his culture, he yearned for renewal. It was only right that we offer him baptism, that he might cast away the stains of his past and profess his soul anew in the faith of Canon.

 

Deo Gratias.

 

[!] A Sketch of the desert baptism is provided

 

 

Each day is a battle—some physical, others spiritual—but even in dire times, goodness prevails. If we meet every day with grace, then surely the spirit will grow.

 

 

[Vilebranch 410]

Fathur FEAR-GAWD sat in solitude in a cave of the Holy MT. TYLOS, clutching the missive of the Limonhearted monk. "GAWD ISH GREATESHT! HOW BLESHED WE ARE TU BRING FORTH A NEW CHILD TU OUR FLOCK!"