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"HOLY! HOLY HOLY!" Cried out the Magister Artifai, Iudas Wick, parading the good news throughout the streets of Alduun after the conclusion what historians call, the easiest conclave ever!

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"Humility, humility, humility." Prayed Lord Vander.

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Father Martin utters a prayer for his ecclesiastical superior - the newly elected High Pontiff - and his wellbeing, hoping that this pontificate shall be an opportunity for understandable and transparent reform.

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Conlaed Wheathog pogchamps at Hobbit Representation! :O

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"God bless the new Pontiff." Lothar d'Amaury signed the Lorraine as he headed to his chapel to pray. 

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"HABEMUS PAPAM ! ! !"

Cardinal-Emeritus Nerium cheered as a new High Priest was named. 

 

In his hand he held a copy of the Inaugural Decree, basking in the tangible shiver of optimism flowing from it up and into the arms. It may have very well been the first time he truly felt any positive notions regarding the future of Malinor. There was room here for hoping again, not merely the hope born from delusions. Magister Nerium folded the paper and tucked it close to his heart. In a sense it was a kind of promise; the promise of a concerted effort, of which he would have a hand in.. 

to redeem his people.

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Somewhere, an old spirit felt a little more at peace knowing the temple was under the guardianship of so devout a man, so joyful a hobbit, as now High Priest Bernand. At one point, he wept for what had become of the Church. Still, he frowned at what was lost in the War he sought so desperately to stop. 

...But. 
Peace, and Blessings finally were upon the lost soul. Perhaps, he would not linger for too much longer... just enough to smile at this renewal. Not quite the renewal he had hoped for, but, he was a man of compromise. He was a man of hope.

 

"Habemus Papem. And mankind began to sing the song of the lord again.."

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"Don Quijote occupied government..." bid Ledicort in a soft prayer, both to the life that his Rebbe Callahan had lived, and the era he had brought forth. Now ended, he only hoped Avartagh didn't want to murder him anymore!

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Thunk, thunk, thunk!

 

Holy Ser Valithaël af Bene Lisse slammed her slayer steel mace against her shield. Her cheers filled the air from the wilderness of  Ildon as she spied that signature white smoke. A spark of hope enkindled within. It was a good time to be an elf of Canondom!

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"Long may he spread the gospel," said Grim, before he returned to the barracks to prepare for another TROST LEGION outing. 

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A Clownly priest honked his clown nose.

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"Habemus Papam," spoke Madelief, with no uncertain amounts of pride to be heard in the lilt of her voice. 

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Saint Gerard de Lemonhill traced the Lorraine.

 

Hans von Aesterwald cheered. "Habemus Papam!" Signing the Rhodesian.

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The joyful Raguk priest, FATHA FEAR-GAWD, danced in joy beside the Tikibar in far-away Galunga as he shouted, "HOLY! HOLY! HOLY! MAZAL TOFF!"

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