DancingZebra267

"Let us not forget history. It was John’s father, Alexander II, who was once sought out when he plotted to remove the High Priest from his rightful seat. A king of Balian himself, turning against the very Church he claimed to serve. And now, here we are again, watching Balian take up the defense of a blasphemer who denies GOD Himself." Vincenzo's eyes sharpened as he went on. "Alba's officer acted as a true servant of GOD should, and for that, they are condemned? No. I say to you all, the real fault lies with those who seek to protect the blasphemer, rather than uphold GOD's law. If a child speaks against GOD, then let her be taught by word or by mark. Better a scar in this life than damnation in the next."

Grimbol beamed with delight, a personal invite to the feast and festivities! He was very humble indeed.

MC Name: DancingZebra267 Discord: dancingzebra267 Image: Description of Image: Uncle Sam type of poster for the order of the Grail Dimensions: 1x2

Vincenzo would read the missive, scratching his head. "Have they thought about investing in getting some cats? Problem solved."

Vincenzo scoffed as he read the missive, before he looked up at those around him. "These so-called 'Free People of Vinovia' are nothing more than bitter souls who have let their pride turn into open rebellion. They speak of freedom, yet all they do is twist the truth to justify their own arrogance. They claim the Church rules through force, yet Ravenmire was not conquered, it was by their own free will that they chose to move to the Holy Pontifical States. They say Balian lost its crown to the Church, yet John of Balian’s coronation was blessed by the Church itself. They speak of Haense being maimed by the Church, yet where is the proof? No Haenseti has suffered at the hands of the Church. As for Hyspia, it is the Vinovians who have forged a military alliance with the orcs of Krugmarr, and yet Krugmar now seeks war against Hyspia simply because they live in the desert. Where is the freedom they claim to fight for, when all they do is spread lies to feed their own pride? The Church has never ruled as an Empire, nor has it sought power for itself. It has always been a shepherd, leading nations, protecting the faithful, and standing against those who would see it fall. And now, these traitors call for its destruction, all while pretending they serve GOD?" He paused taking in a breath before he continued. "They call His Holiness a pretender, yet offer no proof, only their own resentment. They reject the Church’s guidance, but without it, they would be lost in chaos and sin. They demand crowns and power, as if leadership is something they are owed rather than a duty granted by GOD to the worthy." Vincenzo shook his head. "No, they do not serve GOD, they serve themselves. They don’t want unity, they want division. They don’t want faith, they want a world without it. They dress their rebellion in words of freedom, hoping to lead the weak away from the truth." With that, he tore the parchment in half, letting the pieces fall to the ground. Vincenzo chuckled, nodding in approval. "Now here is a man who sees clearly."

Blessed Gerard stood at the gates of the Seven Skies. His gaze softened as he beheld Villorik’s approach. With open arms and a proud smile, he spoke, "Welcome, brother. Long have I waited, and long have I been proud to call you my battle-brother." Holy Ser Vincenzo would hear the news of Villorik's end, his expression solemn. "I am sorry we never truly spent much time together, but I take solace in knowing you now rest in a far better place- for there is no greater home than paradise." He then traced the Rhodesian cross over his chest.

After reading the missive, he'd call out to his men. "200 minas will be rewarded to who can bring this man in ALIVE."

After seeing the word of the High Priest, Holy Ser Vincenzo would send out a missive across all of Canondom.

✠ 𝔄 ℭ𝔞𝔩𝔩 𝔱𝔬 𝔄𝔯𝔪𝔰 ✠ To all faithful Canonists, noble warriors, and defenders of righteousness, The Order of the Grail of Saint Lucien calls upon the brave and devoted to join our ranks in the cause of Saint Owyn’s Flaming Sword, the purification of all that is wicked and enthralled to Iblees for the glory of GOD. It is our duty to restore the sanctifying flame granted by GOD as lord of all realms, greater than any king or prince. Principalities and Powers seek to steal the lands and enthrall them to wicked causes and lesser spirits, be it IDOLATRY or plain DEVIL-WORSHIP; through the grace and strength granted by GOD, the Order of the Grail shall carry the Temple’s holy banner and drive it deep into the heart of all lands. The Vale lies under the shadow of the corruption of nature, praising all that is unnatural among the verdure and beasts as the princes of nature. This is not the Mani’s right to rule, nor their power to shape, but instead the dominion of GOD. We shall restore the FEAR of GOD into the faithful of Malin once more. Those who hear this calling and wish to take up arms for this just cause are urged to make their way to Ard’Karden, at the Holy See, where you may find Holy Ser Vincenzo. As Chaptermaster of the Order, Holy Ser Vincenzo seeks men of faith and courage to aid in the liberation of the Vale and uphold the mission of GOD’s most beloved Church. Do you have what it takes to stand for the faithful and safeguard His flock? Will you take your place among the venerable lucienist knights and march forth for GOD’s chosen people? Make haste, for the hour of liberation draws near. Join the Order of the Grail of Saint Lucien today! Signed, Holy Ser Vincenzo Chaptermaster of the Order of the Grail of Saint Lucien

Holy Ser Vincenzo would gaze over the missive, thinking to himself. "This is going to be interesting."

Uz-Bahku’s Final Rampage Uz-Bahku'Ungri wandered the desert, his massive frame swaying with exhaustion, until he arrived at the gates of Hyspia, a place he remembered for its food. The guards, seeing his hulking form approach, immediately tried to turn him away. But Uz-Bahku did not listen, instead with the intervention of Hera, an elf who convinced the guards to allow him in, the gates were opened. What followed was chaos, as the Olog’s hunger took over. Inside the city, Uz-Bahku’s eyes scanned for food. Spotting Hera first, he lunged for her, mistaking her for grub. She was quick, slipping out of his grasp, leaving the Olog frustrated and grumbling. His attention turned next to Holy Ser Barend, who stepped forward with his sword drawn to protect the people of Hyspia. Uz-Bahku raised his massive foot to crush the Holy knight, but the sudden distraction of potatoes being thrown at his head from a child on a rooftop broke his focus. The knight seized the moment, avoiding the attack and delivering slashes to Uz-Bahku’s side. The Olog’s thick hide took the blows, blood dripping but failing to slow him down. The fight reached its climax when Holy Ser Barend's blade drove deep into Uz-Bahku’s chest. The Olog roared in pain, but he was not finished yet. Summoning his remaining strength, he turned and swung a powerful backhand at the knight, aiming to send him flying into the wall. But Hera, seeing the knight’s danger, intervened. She threw herself between them, shoving the knight out of harm’s way. Uz-Bahku’s massive hand connected with her instead, sending her crashing into the wall with bone-breaking force. She crumpled to the ground, injured but alive. Uz-Bahku staggered, his massive form swaying as the blood loss became too much. He took a few steps forward before his strength gave out entirely. With a final crash, the mighty Olog collapsed, his massive frame falling onto the knight.

Really digging this song right now. Holy Ser Vincenzo would hear of the news, he wouldn't truly understand what was wrong, for these men were lucienist, traditionalist.

Holy Ser Vincenzo strode into the halls of the Temple of Saint Lucien, his expression weighed heavily by grief. Upon reaching the altar, he fell to his knees. With a trembling hand, he traced the Rhodesian cross over his chest. He then closed his eyes, bowing his head as he murmured aloud, “GOD Almighty, You have called back our brother, Father Harreniel, into Your eternal embrace. He was a faithful servant, a guiding light to Your flock. We thank You for his life, for the lessons he has taught us." Rising slowly, Vincenzo turned his gaze to the still form of Brother Lucien. “Brother, your service is done, but your light will not fade. Your name will echo in our prayers. Go now, to rest in GOD’s eternal peace.” Vincenzo gathered the body of the fallen brother, calling upon his fellow knights, they carried Harreniel’s body out of the temple and back to Ard'Karden. There, they would prepare his body for his funeral, and then the deliverance of his ashes to the Great Saint Lucien Temple of Jedih in Aeldin, so he may rest with the fallen Vanders of yore.

Holy Ser Vincenzo eagerly waited for the new and improved magic commission report.

✠ 𝔅𝔯𝔢𝔞𝔨𝔦𝔫𝔤 𝔱𝔥𝔢 ℭ𝔥𝔞𝔦𝔫𝔰 𝔬𝔣 ℌ𝔢𝔯𝔢𝔰𝔶 ✠ Date: 16th of Sun’s Smile, 2010 To the Faithful of Canondom, While on patrol, we men of the Order of the Grail of Saint Lucien stumbled upon a deep opening into the earth, an ominous and foreboding passage. We ventured into its depths, only to discover three figures: an elf of Haense and a knight accompanied by his squire from Numendil. Upon questioning, they stated their business within the cave was spurred by the elf’s claim of having seen multiple shrines within the cavern system. Thus, united as one force under GOD, we delved deeper into the dark recesses of the cave. The first shrine we encountered bore no markings of its allegiance. While thinking of methods to destroy it, the knight and squire departed to retrieve bolt cutters from Numendil, claiming there was a large gate deeper within the system. Choosing to remain as one, we held off on destroying the shrine, vowing to return for it at a later time. Guided by the elf, we pressed forward and reached a waterlogged segment of the cavern. The passage forced us to abandon our plated armor for safety, and by the grace of GOD, none drowned, though there were moments of peril. Emerging on the other side, we found the second shrine, boldly inscribed with the name of the accursed Azdromoth. Without hesitation, both the Order of the Grail and the Numendain brought it to ruin. Continuing forward, we arrived at the large gate that the Numendain had spoken of. Despite our best efforts, we were unable to breach it. Undeterred, we scouted other paths, eventually parting ways with the Numendain and finding the correct passage. This led us to a vast chamber, surrounded by water and a ruined bridge. In the center stood yet another pillar-like shrine. With picks and hammers, we brought it crashing down, into the water below. To those who worship false idols: know this. Your shrines will not remain hidden. They will be uncovered and destroyed, for there is no greater than GOD Himself. His light shines far and wide, piercing the darkest corners of this world. This is your final warning. Renounce your false ideologies and embrace the true faith, for only by His light may your soul find salvation. Should you remain steadfast in your heresy, your fate will be eternal damnation in the Nether. Signed, Holy Ser Vincenzo, Chaptermaster of the Order of the Grail

✠ 𝔗𝔥𝔢 𝔏𝔦𝔤𝔥𝔱 𝔦𝔫 𝔱𝔥𝔢 𝔄𝔟𝔶𝔰𝔰 ✠ Date: 18th of The Grand Harvest, 2010 To all who seek truth and light, Today, we, the men of the Order of the Grail of Saint Lucien, returned from our long patrol. Along our journey, we came across an ancient lair, one that seemed to hark back to the times when the sun was veiled by the Hand of Horen. A small crack in the mountain led us to an ancient crypt or altar, forsaken and decayed with time. Yet, despite its desolation, the air hung thick with an unnatural unease. I commanded Initiate Leofred and Brother Cassian to descend into the woods below and gather wood. Upon their return, Holy Ser Raullin and Holy Ser Talbott set to work rekindling the long-extinguished candles, their flames illuminating the dark recesses of the lair. Light returned to the forsaken space, casting shadows that danced in retreat from GOD’s cleansing glow. Meanwhile, Brother Gamu and Brother Henri shaped the gathered logs into the symbol of the Lorraine Cross. Brother Renwick etched warnings into a nearby stone, a message to all who might dare to desecrate these lands again. When the cross was complete, we worked together as one, raising it high above their unholy altar. The symbol of GOD’s glory now stands where evil once festered, declaring that this ground is no longer theirs to corrupt. Let this stand as a warning to all who tread the path of darkness: no lair of wickedness is beyond the reach of GOD’s light. The faithful will find you. We will hunt you down, purify the ground you claim, and bring GOD’s justice to even the deepest abyss. Deus Magnus! Signed, Holy Ser Vincenzo, Chaptermaster of the Order of the Grail of Saint Lucien

Your thoughts on voidal pockets?

✠ 𝔉𝔯𝔬𝔪 𝔖𝔥𝔞𝔡𝔬𝔴 𝔱𝔬 𝔏𝔦𝔤𝔥𝔱 ✠ Date: 14th of Malin's Welcome, 2010 To All Faithful and Wayward Alike, We, the men of the Order of the Grail of Saint Lucien, were riding through the blessed lands of the Papal States, our purpose steadfast as we carried out our duties. Upon reaching the lands of Ravenmire, our vigilance was rewarded, or perhaps tested, for it was there that we found the Daemon-Lich known as Zarvoth. The foul creature crept among the lands, surely in search of its next victim, its malevolence palpable even from a distance. Recognizing the foe, we prepared for battle, for such evil could not be allowed to fester in the lands consecrated to GOD. United in faith and purpose, the brothers of the Order; Brother Henri, Brother Laurens, Holy Ser Raullin, Holy Ser Godefroy, and myself, Holy Ser Vincenzo, formed our ranks. The battle was fierce, yet, against the combined might of our brotherhood, the Daemon-Lich faltered. Each of us fought with courage and conviction, our blows guided by the grace of GOD. As the struggle reached its end, it was Brother Laurens, wielding his spear with precision, who delivered the final blow, piercing Zarvoth’s heart and casting the abomination back into the void from which it came. Let this victory serve as both a warning and a testament. To those who consort with the Lord of Deceit, to those who prey upon the innocent and faithful: there is no place for you in this world. GOD’s light shines ever-bright, and His justice is swift and unwavering. To the faithful, let this be a reminder of the strength we hold when united in His name. Together, we shall continue to defend His flock, to purge the land of darkness, and to ensure that His will is done. The Order of the Grail of Saint Lucien stands ever-vigilant, ever-faithful, and ever-ready to bring His justice to the wicked. Deus Magnus. Signed, Holy Ser Vincenzo, Chaptermaster of the Order of the Grail of Saint Lucien

Vincenzo took the missive handed to him by Talbott, his sharp eyes scanning its contents with a measured seriousness. Once he finished reading, he nodded firmly, rolling up the parchment with precision. "This is something every brother must see," he stated, his voice resolute. Without hesitation, he moved to his desk, carefully crafting multiple copies of the missive. Once completed, he sealed each copy with the sigil of the Order and called for the nearest courier. "Deliver these to each of our brothers." Vincenzo commanded, handing over the stack of missives.

Upon hearing the news of Father Edmund’s passing, Vincenzo’s expression fell solemn, his usual stoic demeanor giving way to a deep, visible sadness. He clasped his hands tightly before him, his gaze lowering as if in silent prayer. After a long pause, he spoke, his voice steady but tinged with grief. "It pains me deeply to hear that he has passed, especially after we spoke of building a grand cathedral in Alba. While his body may rest, his spirit will surely linger within the faithful and in the House of the Lord he sought to enrich." Vincenzo looked to his brothers, his resolve strengthening as he spoke with greater conviction. "We must carry on his vision, for it is our duty now to see this cathedral built in his honor. Let it stand as a monument to his unwavering dedication to the faith and to GOD's eternal light. And let us remember him not in sorrow but in gratitude. May he find peace in the embrace of GOD and be reunited with those he called upon with his final breath. Rest well, Father Edmund, for your work here is done, and it was done with grace."

A Call for Justice! Grimbol trudged back to his burrow, humming happily as he approached the tree where he’d carefully crafted his cozy home. His heart lifted as he neared the entrance, expecting a peaceful, quiet evening. However, the ground around the burrow’s entrance had been disturbed. Dirt scattered, and the root that formed his doorway had been shoved aside. Something wasn’t right. Rushing in, Grimbol’s eyes grew wide with horror. His once-pristine home had been ransacked. His beloved paintings, which had adorned the walls with scenes of gnome life and nature, were ruined, smeared and torn. Books, carefully arranged on their stands, had been tossed about, their pages stepped on and dirtied. The mushrooms he’d lovingly tended to were smooshed into the floor, their once vibrant caps now flattened. His bed, his beautiful bed, was broken in half, the wooden frame shattered as though some brute had taken a sledgehammer to it. But the worst shock was yet to come. There, in the middle of his mess, lay a dead frog, a cruel reminder of the creature he had recently buried with respect. The very same frog. Grimbol’s eyes filled with fury as he stepped closer, his tiny fists trembling. And then, his gaze fell upon the wall. Written in what could only be described as the worst handwriting he’d ever seen, scraggly, uneven, and messy, was a warning, smeared in what Grimbol feared to be blood. He squinted, trying to make sense of the words, but the childish scrawl eluded him. "Aye, this looks like some child nonsense!" he muttered to himself in frustration. "Can't even read it, let alone understand who’d do such a thing!" His heart pounded in his chest as he surveyed the devastation. The air was thick with anger, and he knew that whoever was responsible for this wouldn’t get away unscathed. After a few moments of silent fury, Grimbol pulled out a small piece of parchment and quickly scribbled out a letter for all to see. I, Grimbol Grobol, came home today after a fine walk through the woods—thinking I’d be returning to a peaceful evening with me favorite banjo, maybe a little pie, and of course, a good nap. But, alas, what did I find? Someone—no doubt some fool—has lifted the root of me beloved tree and squeezed into me burrow like it was some kind of public inn! I tell ye, I nearly dropped me acorn stash right then and there! The mess was unreal—my paintings ruined, books tossed and stepped on, mushrooms smooshed into the floor! My bed—my bed!—broken in half like it was some cheap piece of timber! And then, as if that wasn’t enough, I find a dead frog in me home, the very one I just buried not a day ago. But the worst of it all was the warning written in some bloodstained nonsense on the wall. I can’t even make heads or tails of it, what with it being written like a child's handwriting! Who does such a thing? What kind of sick joke is this? The footprints—giant ones—are too big for a dwarf but too small for an Orc I reckon it’s a human, and I’d bet me last acorn they’re responsible for this disaster. This can’t be allowed to stand! If anyone knows who did this, tell ‘em they’ve got a reckoning comin’! I’ll fix me burrow, but they won’t be so lucky next time! Grimbol Grobol

The Great Frog Massacre Grimbol Grobol had just finished digging up his new burrow on the small river island outside Solgaard. His little home, tucked away in the earth, was the perfect spot to settle down after a long day of adventuring. With the sun shining, the air fresh, and his burrow all set up, Grimbol figured it was time to stretch his legs and explore the surrounding area. What he didn’t expect was that the frogs of the nearby marsh had other plans. As he stepped out of his burrow, the peaceful sounds of the river and the rustling reeds were soon interrupted by the croaks of frogs. A small group had gathered outside his home, watching him with beady eyes, as if waiting for him to make the first move. Grimbol, never one to back down from a challenge, grabbed his trusty twig cane and stood firm, ready for whatever these frogs had in store. The frogs, seeming to think they could overpower a small gnome, lunged at him, their sticky tongues snapping and legs flailing. But Grimbol was quick and relentless. He swung his twig with surprising precision, swatting frogs from the air and sending them tumbling into the muck. With each strike, he shouted, "Take that, ye slimy lot!" as if the very sound of his voice would send them running. The battle raged on in front of his burrow, the frogs hopping at him from every direction. But Grimbol’s spirit was unbreakable. With one final swing of his cane, the last of the frogs fell, leaving the small island in eerie silence. Grimbol stood tall, breathing heavily, and surveyed the battlefield. His burrow was safe once more, the frogs’ reign of terror at an end. He grinned, wiped the sweat from his brow, and muttered to himself, "That’s one way to defend a home." With his foes vanquished, Grimbol returned to his burrow, his little slice of paradise now free from the threat of any more frog invasions. The Great Frog Massacre was over, and Grimbol Grobol had proven once again that no creature, no matter how big or small, could take his home from him.

𝔄 ℭ𝔥𝔞𝔭𝔱𝔢𝔯𝔪𝔞𝔰𝔱𝔢𝔯'𝔰 𝔖𝔬𝔩𝔦𝔱𝔲𝔡𝔢 The sun's golden rays painted the rugged cliffside in hues of amber and crimson as a lone figure ascended its treacherous paths. This was Vincenzo Caparelli, a monk of the Order of the Grail, clad in humble robes, his armor left behind in Ivoria. His weathered boots crunched against the dry earth, each step deliberate as he climbed higher into the heavens. In his hand, Vincenzo carried not a staff but his rosary, its beads worn smooth from countless prayers. His breath was steady but heavy, and though his body strained against the steep incline, his spirit burned with an unwavering resolve. This was no mere climb, it was a pilgrimage to Mount Tylos, the very journey once undertaken by Blessed Caius Primus, the Pontiff whose faith had consecrated this land as holy. As he ascended, his mind drifted to the past, to the streets of Balian where his life began as a lonesome orphan. He recalled the cold nights spent curled in alleyways, the pangs of hunger gnawing at his stomach, and the distant sound of cathedral bells that filled his young heart with wonder. It was in those streets, amidst the dust and despair, that the seeds of his faith were sown. His thoughts turned to the Robertstine Crusades, a whirlwind of fire and steel that tested his faith and resolve. Those days of bloodshed had left their mark, but they also solidified his belief in the purpose of serving GOD. Now, here he stood, no longer the orphan of Balian but a Chaptermaster of the Order of the Grail. And yet, the weight of his responsibilities bore down upon him. The duel ahead loomed large in his mind. Vincenzo paused, his gaze drawn to the horizon. There, amidst the rugged beauty of the peaks, his thoughts turned to his brother under GOD, Waldo Rovin. Waldo, taken far too early, a man of unwavering conviction and heart. What would he think of Vincenzo now? Would he see a man worthy of the mantle of Chaptermaster, or would he see a soul still searching for its path? The climb grew steeper, yet Vincenzo pressed on, his resolve fueled by the knowledge that this pilgrimage mirrored that of Blessed Caius Primus. To walk in the footsteps of such a holy man was both humbling and inspiring. Finally, he reached the summit, the wind howling around him as if to carry his prayers skyward. The view stretched endlessly before him, a vast expanse of untouched beauty. Vincenzo knelt, the rosary held tightly in his hand, and raised his eyes to the heavens. "O GOD Almighty, Creator of all things holy and true, I come before You now as Your humble servant, unworthy yet faithful, seeking Your mercy and strength. Grant me the courage to face what lies ahead, to wield my blade not for vengeance or pride, but for Your glory and in defense of Your truth. You, who know all hearts, see the purity of my intent and the burden I carry." He paused, his voice softening, though still carried by the wind. "If I am to fall in what is to come, do not hold blame against the pagan who stands before me. He is a lost soul, deceived by the lies of Iblees, and I beg You to welcome him into Your embrace with open arms. Forgive him, O Lord, for he knows not the depth of his error. Show him the mercy that only You can provide and guide him to Your eternal light." Vincenzo’s voice grew steadier as he continued, his hands tightening on the rosary. "Grant peace upon all Your people, GOD. Bless my brothers in arms, Brother Raullin, Brother Lucien, Brother Daniel, Brother Godefroy, Brother Ahki, Brother John, Brother Xavier, Brother Levi, Brother Renwick, Brother Henri, and Brother Delbert. Strengthen them as they walk the path of faith, guarding Your flock and fighting for Your truth. May their resolve remain steadfast, their hearts pure, and their actions always guided by Your will." His gaze lifted higher, his tone filled with both reverence and hope. "Bless also Your Vicar, Harrentzedek, who leads us with wisdom and devotion. Grant him the clarity to guide Your Church through these turbulent times, and may his steps never falter in the face of adversity." Vincenzo’s voice lowered slightly, trembling with emotion as he concluded. "O GOD, grant us Your mercy, Your strength, and Your peace. Let Your light shine through us, dispelling the darkness that seeks to consume Your flock. Guide my blade, guide my heart, and guide my soul, for all I do, I do in Your name, Amen." He bowed his head deeply, the weight of his prayer settling upon him as he remained knelt, the wind carrying his final words into the vast expanse of the mountaintop.

ℭ𝔥𝔞𝔩𝔩𝔢𝔫𝔤𝔢 𝔄𝔠𝔠𝔢𝔭𝔱𝔢𝔡 To the Author of the Accusations, Your words are a poison laced with deceit and wrapped in self-righteous fury. It is evident that you have been deceived by the lies of Iblees, for your accusations are baseless, misguided, and wholly untrue. Allow me to address your claims, for it is not fear of steel that troubles me, but the stain such falsehoods bring upon the truth. I have not stalked nor manipulated anyone, let alone your wife or daughter. My interactions with Cardinal Clover after her disappearance were brief and focused solely on the spreading of the faith. I spoke to your daughter but once, when she dared to cry out heathenous words in Haense. As a servant of GOD, it is my duty to debate and oppose any who endanger His flock spiritually, but to declare my actions as malicious stalking is a fabrication born of ignorance or, worse, malice. You claim righteousness yet twist words and intentions to fit your narrative. Such falsehoods do not serve GOD but Iblees, who delights in sowing discord among the faithful. Despite this, I will not shy away from your challenge. I am a Vander, a son of honor and faith, and I will not turn my back on any foe who calls for a reckoning. I accept your holmgang, for GOD knows the truth of my actions. If I cannot vindicate myself here on earth, then let the skies and His eternal judgment weigh my soul. Know this: I do not fight for pride or vengeance but for the truth and for GOD’s glory. However, I ask you this, Thegn Conan: Are you man enough to meet me in combat with mundane steel and armor, the tools of men and the righteous, as is proper for a warrior of honor? Leave behind any accursed tricks or unnatural aids that the likes of Iblees would delight in. Let our contest be one of true skill and faith, not a demonstration of foul sorceries or enchanted contrivances. Sharpen your steel, for you will face not only my blade but the light of GOD that guides it. Prepare your soul, for the judgment of the heavens is near. May the Archaengul, Saint Raguel, watch over this duel and ensure that justice prevails. To you, I say: Repent and seek the truth, for you have been deceived. I hold no malice, only pity, for a soul so misguided. Deus Magnus, Holy Ser Vincenzo Caparelli Chaptermaster of the Order of the Grail