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    fulton sheen

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  1. Behold this, yet another tremendous atrocity of our time, ABOMINATION, see that a Covenant with Edel has so kindly permitted You, Adon Olam, that your servants 'by their grace' may do as You command of them 'with their leave'. Verily, not since the time of Edel have such horrors been known among the lands of Horen, and our fathers weep for us, fore we have taken and violated our dear and sacred, the only and only true Covenant, the True Faith. Owyn Prophet preserve us!
  2. Shalom, Sandra! News has reached me that you have survived an encounter with the most virulent diabolist blood-craze and lived, with only minor major damage on your soul and 1500 accumulative years in purgatory. Let me be the first to offer you my sincere; Congratulations! I am sorry that my colleague has not been able to satisfy you in his reply, and so I have taken it upon myself to proxy for him so as to offer you the best complainer support that the Canonist Church and the Order of Saint Jude are capable of affording. The Canonist Church values your input, and is ever-committed to maintaining only the highest standards of care for those who have dabbled in the arts of HaSatan. 1. As a consequence of your blood-crazed murder mania, we were unfortunately compelled to restrain you that you may not consume the life-blood of any more infant children, elderly, wretched, drunkard, or other unfortunate bystanders, for the safety of God's Creation. 2. Unfortunately, the Canonist Church has not evaluated the ethical practices of the 'Templars' that you have mentioned, and could not possibly send you to them in good conscious, for fear of entertaining the diabolical machinations of an infernal power assuming itself as an idol of worship to lord over Man in exchange for many gifts. We are, however, prepared to offer you our finest Home Brewed Diabolist Treatment free of charge. I hope this helped! Thanks! -B.C.
  3. I want you to know that I read your posts in Bishop Sheen's voice

  4. It is unfathomable to me that a man who claims to be a priest ever so be so faithless as to discard the fruit of virtue for no other reason than that he had not seen it before upon the vine, and so it must have appeared by an act of 'spontaneous magic' befitting a fairy tale. "Owyn snapped his fingers, and every adulterous lecher and tyrant in Idunia were made right and good, and lived happily ever after," To say nothing of God, who's spirit in intervention is the meticulous architect of peace, and who could be offended in no more grave a way as to deny Him the fruit of His labor in the Human heart, it is also entirely ignorant of the work of the priests of that ill diocese, which is one of the most numerous in Canondom today, and who have since the genesis of the war toiled upon the hearts of Men, in counsel, in ministry, in rebuke, in sparing not the rod upon their own peoples, in bit-by-bit bettering them while they had made themselves fiends, and who ultimately had known success that none but those who saw them work could appreciate. It is to say nothing, also, of the good Duke Markus, who has since boyhood been, in contrast to his forbearers, the most staunch and absolute proponent of Canonism in that country, and who by his personal mission had seen to the near fifty year cultivation of the Faith in that country that was keen at one time to forsake it. To say nothing of even his spouse, his better-half, cleric, near-martyr, and partner in this venture since the days of the abdication of Heinrik Sarkozic. It is nothing short of a supreme mockery of the Faith, that a people flaunting and parading names such as 'Covenants' and 'Crusades' and invoking in them the name of God, obedience to God, to His True Faith, while seeming not to regard this God at all, but the health of their nations, the vengeance sought by their own hand. Owyn, poised to kill, stood over the fallen weeping Harren, that wretch, the flames of his blade SCREECHING in vibrant rebuke of his folly, strikes down and kills him. Atleast, for the Prophet, there was a hope for him- he was a man of great remorse, and paid dearly for his crime. I do not foresee- but that those nations of the Coalition come to the senses of their faith- that any of these nations shall pay as Owyn had paid, and enjoy instead the death-sentence set upon them by their own hands.
  5. "Following the wisdom put to you already by those before me, which have granted a greater insight into the matter than I will be able to provide, I put to you that the aim of a 'Canonist', in as much as he wishes to become 'a part of God' is more in line with the conclusion that you have come to ultimately, which is that it had ought to be the aspiration of the 'mortal' to be a 'piece in the puzzle of God'. Except, for Man, this shall never be 'the Absolute' that you speak of. I believe we may already see the place in the puzzle of Creation that man is intended to fit, and does already in some way fit, and that his own existence is not in any way at odds with his mortality, or his place in Creation. If not for this, your thinking would be very much in line with Creationist thinking, which for good reason seeks to urge man to escape his unfortunate circumstances. And escape he should, and that he must escape even you are able to recognize. It is not that that there is an inherent flaw to the world that he lives in, but evidently, there is something uncanny, a brokenness, which is further evidenced by the deceitful nature of the creatures of God, the creed of the angle, which does most certainly not only lie of God, but do also grave evil in the world and in the heavens. The source of this trouble ultimately is a terror very alien to creation, that has invaded it, infested it, and pervades throughout the whole of it. Pursuit of Paradise comes naturally to the creature that is able to understand the foul perversion of the ruins of the perfect world he was born into. Just as Man may see how all those things around him speak to that perfect master and maker, he sees also how they have been wronged. This would be a great source of despair for him, if he did not know that there was a hope for the world, and a chance that he might once again know the true and full beauty of not only his own design, but the design of all the things in and upon the earth, and into the heavens, where no-thing lies, all things work, and the alien is no more, when the discord has gone away. But this great hope is the gift of revelation, it has come to us by the word of the prophets, fore in as much as we are able to discern that there was once paradise by reason, we may not know that it shall ever be again. This is why there is such a thing as a Canon at all, wherein Horen was brought up to gaze upon the true Throne of God untarnished, that he might know that it is fully intact, even while the world around him insists it is not so, that the throne is shattered, that the Angels have seen it broken and bickered and kvetched over the remains of it. Were it not for this infusion of hope that makes up the True Faith, the Creator would be simply Truth, and we should see no Church nor Canon, but simply see it as it is. Perhaps in Paradise it shall be that way again, one day, when all the war is ended. Evidently, this is also why man ought never to take it upon himself to pervert the scriptures in accordance with the politics of the Raevir, lest he say by mistake 'and the Earth shall become Paradise', and forget of that-all, our faithful hope, and damn himself unwittingly to distraction, but I digress."
  6. HEED! HEED! By this writ, know that a LEGALLY DISTINGUISHBLE STATE OF WAR now exists between the Most Holy Sanctuary of Lemonhill the sour Marchlands of Stassion, under the following stipulations, and beholden to the following casus-belli so as to be in accordance with the principles of just and holy war; Within the understanding of the potential violations of oaths sworn in the presence of sacred artifacts of Saint Alexander of Furnestock between King-John-Steward-Aaun and Lord-Leonus-Sour-Stassion that neither one nor other shall pursue in vengeance retribution for the death of King Edmund, nor the Expulsion (1953), it is apparent to one Bishop (Emertius) Callahan Limon-in-Golus that it is increasingly untenable for the Righteous of Lemonhill to wage war under the clauses put forth by the Kingdom of Aaun in their conflict against Stassion. God's Law is clear, whom-so-ever should break an oath, shall break their neck. While it has not yet been determined, following the oath sworn in 1953, whether it is Richard-Stassion or John-Aaun that has violated their oath to seek no revenge, we fear that the consequences of waging war with the explicit intention of avenging King Edmund poses a great risk to the lives to those who fight for Lemonhill in their legally distinct conflict in the eyes of God. FOR HORRIFIC VIOLATIONS OF ARCHITECTURAL STANDARDS RESULTING IN GRAVE OFFENSE UNTO THE EYES AND SCARIFICATION OF GOD'S BRAVEOS, Let war come unto the Marchlands of Stassion to the ends of architectural rectification, satisfaction of dishonor unto the eyes, and the repair of God's Green Braevos through the restoration of the marshes and raising of tower and steeple pleasing to God, or otherwise through the sanctification of a new wagon parkinglot for the Monastery of the Sacred Heart upon Lemon Hill, in the name of Our Lady Lorina. FOR VIOLATIONS OF THE SACRED PEACE OF THE ENTITLED CHURCH-TERRITORY OF LEMONHILL BY WAY OF WANTON AGGRESSION, Let WAR come unto the Marchlands of Stassion to the ends of a satisfaction for the violations of the sacred peace of the Lemonite, which shall be so satisfied in the wake of the fully willing consumption of no less than FOUR DOZEN (40, FOURTY) LEMONHILL FRUITS, that their string may humble the Lord Stassion who has permitted this to be. Let the charge of conducting this war fall upon chiefly Holy Sir Morgan St. Caius of Angren Helvetz Innumerable, Senescallus Citrus, conducted and sworn hitherto to this service by the Lemon Priest Callahan (Bishop Limon-in-Golus), pursuant to the terms of satisfaction detailed hereby. May it please God to see that we fear His righteous judgement, and respect so dearly His law, that we may burden ourselves in this way for the mere fear of offense. May peace come quickly in resolution to this conflict that has come to be. May God break the neck of whom-so-ever has broken the oaths sworn upon His sacred things. Saint Robert intercede for us, and 'Lo, as he had said it; "Death to Freebuild." As this Saint has said it, guarded safely now in heaven, may we also join him in his footsteps and force all floating-abominations down again to Earth where they belong and cleanse this land of all scar and blemish. Callahan Bishop Emertius Formerly Citrus, on behalf of Lemon Hill and the Sanctuary thereupon.
  7. "Shalom, Davide! You have written of Virtue, and of the Holy Path of Man, and of the degeneracy of our age that we must not despair. This all, I say to you, is true, amen amen! Were it necessary to sing the praises of so refined an examination of doctrine, I would venture to do so, but as God's Truth is beloved more by God than any Man, I could not dare to say that the highest of praises afforded a true understanding such as this are within my power to bestow. Nevertheless, I applaud you! It would please me greatly, if, at some time appropriate to you, we may meet, as I would like to discuss with you the ends of Holy Empire, and the means of Godfrey within the context of the will of God, outside of the perversions of Man and Empire, and Blood and House. Many blessings!" Cellach the Priest wrote, and signed his name thusly, pleased with what he had written, which afforded him hope for the young minds that ventured into the faith.
  8. Three men set out from the Great Temple of the Prophets in Aaun, conducting with them to safety the Flame of the Godhead, which was known to them to be the seal by which the Covenant of the Third Son of Spirit, the Preserver, would be struck and kept. They knew not how, or why, for who- but that it had to be, and that it was, and that the prophecy made known to them was clear. Wreathed around the blade, as Owyn had once wielded it, the Flame was carried forth by those odd men into the wilderness, leading them by the light and warmth, weak though it may have been in that fickle place that had by all means the will to forsake it. An Arch-Lector, now estranged and engulfed in eastern goobledygoop, guided to the place where he had met the party, knew well the weight of the duty that he alone could bear, having the blade, and having once in his youth dedicated himself to the Spirit. A Priest, he was, a Lector, once. But those times were long ago. He had thought different things now, he had explored, and he had by his own admission strayed so far from what he had once believed so as not to carry with him anymore the name of the rite that once had known him as great champion, keeper, samaritan. But who, for any doubt could, in the presence of the Spirit, deny the charge put forth to him? To turn-head ignore the ordained vocation of a man? And so it was that the odd man, once Arch-Lector, hesitated, and contemplated, and prodded at that dormant core of his faith that was the flame within his heart. And so it was that the man was again Arch-Lector, the flame alight, the call of vocation heard by him. A Cardinal, a Lord, a father and now priest, but man of the world, that few men would dare to call a Saint, who, belonging to a wealthy and influential family that thrived and prospered off of politik, pragmatism and loyalty to cause in such a way that moved them not to any radical action for good or ill, could never have been expected to be subsumed totally by the will of God. Verily, no man could have predicted a prophet could come of him, no less the man himself. It was not until the man had come to don the mitre, perhaps, that he had become a man so worthy of the vocation thrust upon him. And so knowing that the man was not given to radical thought nor faithful trance, seeing that he had spoken to them theuopneustos, all had known at once the import of the mission set out to them by the voice of Man, but by the word of another who now operated that voice as an instrument of divine will. A mad priest, a crypto-lucienist of the Priesthood of Owyn, a rabbi, and to some, though he would himself prefer the scourge than to so much as entertain the idea, a heresiarch; joined also those gathered men, so eager in his spirit to see the will, 'Emmanuel, Emmanuel,' as to be, to most men, most certainly mad. A slave of the slaves of the servants of God, he had driven them forth with an uncanny desperation. 'Follow, follow!' was the cry. And so the call was heard, and had been heard many times before. Some had followed him, and in following him did they do as he wished of them, so pleasing, and typical, as many a man skeptical had thought. What they would not understand was that he, for himself, would not step one foot beyond where that Flame had first gone forth, not gazed where that Light had not shined, not spoke but by the stoke of that Spirit, not woke but by the drive of the One. For that, his ever-echoed commands, 'Follow, follow!' were not for the satisfaction of him, but for the will of his Master. 'Follow him, follow him!' they ought to have heard. A swordsman, a soldier, a once-brigand, now Knight, a son of Virtue, a righteous man joined and testified. It was written, he knew, that the fruit of Virtue did not rot. Whether the man had intended for it or not, those words had come to be the law by which all of his life had been defined. Nothing did he do that he did not divine to be right and good, no place did he go that he had not felt called to go- though he was a wanderer, and of a lost tribe. The measure of man who spoke no lie, fore he could not bring himself to do it, the pain of it having become known to him, in some distant past, as the most heinous of pains inflicted upon a soul. Perhaps it was in his youth- perhaps he had divined it in a dream, none but he could say, but that he told no lies was the pure and honest truth. All he saw he had transcribed, dedicating to mind the truth of events, and in that way became unto his tribe a testifier, a witness. Now, it seemed, he was to glory God with this fruit of Virtue his person had wrought, and with every divination seen, every challenge surpassed, did glorify the Almighty in his saying, 'This is the truth, here is the truth.' whether the words left him by his voice, or remained known only to him. It was true, he had seen it, it was the truth. And by every truth he glorified as it was, God, too, was glorified with him and by him. Where they had gone, no man could rightly say. It was known they were to leave, its was well recorded, and testified by good men who bore the Cross in knightly service in those lands. They must surely have wandered long- and eventually, the man, the Cardinal, had returned from their wandering in the wilderness and rejoined society, saying, 'I was never to see where they should be lead.' which was in keeping with his prophecy. It was atop some distant peak, in a land with no name, in a place forsaken by Man but known well to God, that the Flame had again made touch with the Earth. A a miracle of infinite appreciation in its own right, a man may long ponder, that God should by any sign make known his presence in so rotten a world. In an instant, as that flame, so high above the land, finding itself in the place it had wished to be, took violently and erupted. Here was secured, they had said, the Flame by which the sins of the Sons of Horen were in-held, weighed upon that spirit in pardon. Here burned the seal of the Covenant of the Third Son of Spirit, the Fourth Prophet of the True Faith as God had revealed it. Here burned the purifying flame of Owyn, to whom the presence of The Presence was made known to dwell, and who, wielded by Man, purified the world. Perhaps this, too, was a purification, of sort. Perhaps what it held would be burnt away. Perhaps it would ever remain. They knew but one thing, this Flame was the enemy of the world, and that its loss would spill upon the Earth all the sins of that fallen creed, Horen, who for so long a time had forsaken his Father. A danger it was, too, to them. A representation of the law, of the purification of spirit that they could not endure. If it were that they were clean things, they could pass through it without issue- but it had singed the flesh of Horen when Horen had dared to go forth to touch what by Horen's heart was beloved, so estranged they had become. A filth, a dirt, a stain, an unclean presence within them forbade it. Perhaps it was forbidden by their own souls, and that the fire itsself never did burn them, but the guilt. They knew well the guilt, today. They knew well that one must keep the flame by which they shall, God willing, be burned, some day. They knew the world would never have it, that it would be taken away from them. Perhaps one among them knew the truth of it- there was no taking away, only a sending away. Horen would out God from his camp as Julia had cast out that man they called Saul, who should more accurately have been known as Sigismund, they thought. What they could not have known, save for the one who had both sent them upon this quest and left them to complete it and returned, was what had befallen the world in the wake of their absence. As a consequence of their absence? Certainly not, they could not think so- fore none of them were men who, removed from society, would cause so quickly its utter and abject collapse. All of those men had been forsaken men, Horenites of a creed that had for five hundred years been known only to distant enclaves and to dark caves, caverns, and sanctuaries wherein they would not be know the persecution that had befallen them in the wake of that greater collapse, what was remembered now as 'the founding of our Church', that had for some reason required re-forging after the Prophets themselves had done the job, but was more accurately known to them as 'the Schism'. It was in that time, Horen had called, 'God, begone now from us, you have set upon us a burden we do not wish to bear! Begone, begone!' And through the spilling of blood, sealed the wound upon that covenant, which now in Horen's blood was written the cry of his avoidant will. Man did not wish to see redemption. It was for this reason they rejected The Redeemer, Emperor, when they could, Prophet Godfrey, in this schism war. They would speak his name, utter it, yes, but what of his Covenant? They knew it not. The enjoyed the liberty of weightlessness, and fashioned for themselves a crown of ignorance, that was to them a great comfort. "I need only rule the Earth." said Man, Horen, "And Paradise shall come to me!" said Saul, the Sigismund. A far cry from what God had asked of them, and promised of them, when he had raised from them Redeemer. The will of Iblis had come then and glanced the Earth In an instant, it was lost. The soul, the thinking mind, some had surmised. In an instant it was fire, bloodshed, it was brother against brother. It had begun first in the House of Horen, as Horen had plunged the dirk into his own belly. That chosen people descended upon one another with maddened fervor, a total craze. Before the Archenemy had required deception to illicit, from Man, this manner of bloodshed. It had taken greed, avarice, promises of a glory unattainable, promises of revenge for crimes only imagined, promises for justice that were not justice but fiction, and promise for pleasure where pleasure was not due. It was not so in those hours, on that day, in what Man had once hoped to call the Year of their Lord, nineteen-fifty-five, but was more, in truth, the five hundred and eighth year of the long heresy, the age they now-in dwelled, Ehr Sigmunda. None at first could speak, their senses dulled. Then had come the voice, 'As you please,' in confident assurance. How willing Man had gone into the embrace of their father-adoptive, the enemy. They knew not how much he despised them, how much their sin repulsed him, how much he so simply wished them gone. They did not think to dwell on those things, anymore; they did not much think at all. Horen, who was at one moment 'Man', was now 'man', animal. Eradication was the word. It was always the word of their father, though he had well hidden it, inveigled it in nicer, finer clothing. Never before had he been able to present it naked to them, before now. The rivers ran red with blood, and in those hours all the Earth was in warfare, for no end and no master but for war and war and yet more war, and war with no resource or reprieve, waged with what was on hand, and what was from other hands pried as Julia had cast stone over the head of Horen, and Horen dirked still Julia, and no peace to be found in any place. It was a parody, perhaps, of the divine plan, in that by God's Chosen, Horen-Man, Horen's brothers would be one day saved. This was the aim of Empire, as Man had long elected to forget. And so as Man descended into madness, the fate of Malin, Krug and Urguan was too sealed, and the curse spread, before long, also to them. This was the fate of the Earth that Man had once said, in his folly, 'shall be my Paradise!' Then, darkness, his 'Paradise'. All had gone black unto that dark world. What began first as Man's inability to speak, and evolved then into Man's thirst for blood, had ended finally in Man's blindness. It was tranquil, there. It was tranquil, then, throughout all the land- though they had not deserved it. From atop that mountain ablaze, where the Presence rested, all was bright. They could see, yonder still, the darkness that had engulfed the world, that contrasted poorly with the greater-than-day light cast upon them otherworldly. Could it be that the flame had taken it all? Could it be that the weight of all of Horen's sin rested nullified within that Flame, now? Justice should have seen all the world in that moment away, eclipsed, smothered, the animating fire of it all swept out by the parental hand. And yet, it had not. For all the guilt known to those men, three, upon the hill, and for all the tears that they had spilled, they still knew only of the burden of the past before them. They could not know of this new weight, this added weight of all the world's sin somehow withheld from the court, for now, that would testify against them. The trouble for that time was over, light again poured into the world. The raging flame retreated from that great inferno it had borne into when first it touched the brush, quieting in peace before the men. A simple presence it then again appeared to them, a flame. It seemed almost exhausted, perhaps it was- perhaps the pain of it all had weighed upon it. But on this mount it was in peace, and that quest had seemed fulfilled. 'The Hyperwar' was over, Man again awoke, and Malin, and Krug and Dorf with him. In accordance with the prophecy revealed unto them, the seal of the Covenant of the Third Son of Spirit, the Preserver, was made and safekept. א
  9. The Bishop, suffering from the onset of a worsening flu, gazed vacantly into the pyres of his temple. The spirit of the law was again far from the land. Temple after temple, priest after priest, and the great injustice of Horen's tribe grew all the more potent and dangerous. Lethal, and self destructive. He lit another candle, another flame to keep alive. But without the law, for how long could the great flame remain with them? "God help us, God help us."
  10. NOT LIKE THIS not like this... Callahan had woken determined that day. Fore that day was an auspicious day. Leaping out of bed, and marching forth at once to his Owynist temple, as it were the day of services, there was great energy about the air. There was a spectacular attribute to the spirit of a priest. It was a power unlike any other, a potency of the soul, a force that set forth the man like a spring unto the world. He understood this to be the unique charism of the ordained minister, the true and devoted servant of God, and he knew no other field, no passion, no craft, no whim or whimsy nor even any curse or plight or addiction or any other manner of things that blessed or befouled man that was equal to it in its poignancy. The man, the minister, each and all, knew unto himself that he was called, ordained, divined to do the will of his master, at any hour, at any given day. Such was the lot of their lives, and their joy, and their great passion. Today was by no means an exception. Nor, even, was it an exemplary day; it was, like any other, rich with work. There was a distant cindering, an upset. He could detect it in much the same way that a man can detect with his nose the beginnings of a fire within his walls. This was not alarming, it was very familiar. It was that oft-heard call to arms of spiritual warfare, and somewhere, somehow, he knew not where or how, today he had to fight. Concluding his services, he set out to do so. "Why, I should cut you down!" cried an Aaunishman in his human rage. The priest had perked, his head high, a brow raised. "What do you do, ever, but complain?" cried another, in symphony with them. Now, the priest had come to grin. An uncanny look from a man befouled by his company, even called to death! It begged a knowing, as though he understood the folly of their ways- more likely, as though he were so pompous as to invite it. But neither of these were true. "What are you doing, man, that is a priest!" called an Aaunish knight, and all was again well. In an instant, a room of turmoil had dissipated. The priest's nigh pleased expression retreated, again priestly, again dispassionate, in as much as a man of passion is able to be. Such was the nature of the priest that the man, in his totality, faults and all were at the disposal of God. The knowing he had experienced was not of their folly, but of his purpose before them, fore he had possessed a very special charism; he was exceptionally annoying. Sanctifingly annoying. And that, exactly, was his purpose, then and there, in that time and at that place. And though he was accosted- he was pleased! The battle was won, and his poor 'victims' had, again, been truly sanctified. Fore they had seen, as all men ought to see, that the priest, while alike to every man in his person, is unlike all men in his ways. Today, he had again proved the great mercy of man, his obedience, that foolish creature that stood as God's authority on Earth. If they could obey him, they could obey Him. If they could respect the sanctity of his person, they could respect the sanctity of His person. Again, he was pleased, and left thinking the day's battle was won. If they had but known it- all they had to do was leave the priest alone. Cut him down? Who would think it! Their nation would sooner turn to ash. One crack in that defense, one breach in the wall, one vengeful idiot and all the iniquity of man could again seep out into the world through the blood of the men who had, by their life's ordained purpose, contained and disposed peaceably of it. But who would do such a thing? Not anyone this priest could fathom. But this was not his thinking when he woke- the people of Aaun were good people, and still he tested them. Why would he lower his guard, now? The great sin of sloth had struck him, and he did not go where God had stationed him. The wise teachers have spoken of mortal sin. The poor creature could not fathom the extent of the weapons of Human concupiscence. The razor edge on that small, small blade. But who would kill a priest?
  11. The True Faith. The Holy, Holy Church. The Light, the Pyre, the Stronghold of God. The way of our Lord the God of Horen. None could say this was an easy path to take, and never had it been an easy road to follow. Long has the House of Horen been trapped in the perpetual captivity of Iblis. Long has it survived the chafing bonds, and long has its adherents absorbed the bruise, the sword, the battery of the club, the false rod of ‘good justice’ that does fall upon the head of the righteous. Every tabernacle flame burning, every candle flickering, every temple raised and prayer uttered, all to the ends of the stronghold of God. Our weapons of defense in this, our long captivity, the ball of our cannons, the steel of our swords. By the keeping of these things have we endured, from cave to cave, from land to land, from temple to temple on the long road of our atonement. Such has been the state of affairs for hundreds upon hundreds of years. For many hundreds more before it, too, the war of Iblis has gone raging on and on from the time of our Fathers, through the great schisms, through the persecutions, and into this, our day. Ever has it been the duty of Man, the sons of Horen, in keeping his covenant, to cast out the agents of the dark, hold to virtue, and do battle with the enemies of God, of the faith, wherever they should appear. This war on Man that is perpetrated by the Evil One, it has known no boundaries, no lines or divisions between Horen and his sons. It has known only Man, Horen, enemy. Similarly, it does not understand Oren, nor Haense, nor Adria. It knows only Man, Horen, enemy. In knowing this we understand that, likewise, and measure by measure, we must do battle with evil in accordance with the presence of evil. It has ever been Man’s great temptation, great driving thirst to attain temporal victory. This, we must not permit, as it is the will of Iblis, and certainly his will shall see us in the company of Iblis as we wage war upon Man. To the ends of the defeat of Iblis? No, no man is so foolish as to think it! But for the victory of this tribe or that, this crown or another. This terrible, evil heresy of pragmatism is perhaps the most dangerous of all sins present in the be-deviled heart of Mankind. And so, I call unto those who heed the words of Virtue, who shall keep the covenant of Horen, of Owyn, and of Godfrey each, to do battle with evil measure by measure. Where the enemy hides, go forth and battle him at once! He who does not cast the stone upon the spawn of Iblis has forsaken God, his King, and Horen, his father! Let no alliance harbor the enemies of God. II. The Folly of the Godwinites. !! EXCOMUNICATION !! Heed, ye, who has led so many astray! We write now our condemnation of the man, patriarch Stassion, Frederick Aurelian. You have heard of the regicide of King Edmund of Aaun at the hands of the forces of stassion, and you have read also of the merciful verdict of Father John Aaun-Steward and Priest, who has waived from the head of the Lord Stassion Richard, feudal lord, and master of that host that has committed the grave crime and sin of regicide. And rejoice, as this is very just! For in as much as this man had thought to hold the rod by which the forces of Stassion have been commanded to evil, the great and terrible fault of this crime, the root of it, was not born in the heart of that man and lord. No, it was born in the heart of Frederick Aurelian, his father! This man Frederick, a forsaken priest, has thought it within his power to walk away from the Priesthood of Owyn, going so far as to bar from his son’s Stassion the preacher and the priest, furious even at the sight of them, furious at the invasion of his exile by the word of God. And so it was that, to now, Stassion has fled the communion of its Bishop and Church, insular in its ways, and keeping only to the teachings of its elders of rotted soul and false, twisted teaching. The fruits of this damnable labor may be seen plainly in the attitude of the unfortunate, ignorant soldiery of Stassion, who have so been misled to the hatred of the priest, while thinking themselves right and proper still in the eyes of God. This is the consequence of the heresy of the Godwinites, as spoken of in rebuke by Owyn, to which their teacher and people have succumbed. The worship of the Lord and King over the Lord God, the heeding of the ministry of the blade before the ministry of the kohen, the exaltation of the prince as priest. All are cautioned never to fall as they have fallen, do not follow in the footsteps of the sons of Godwin! What is holy in the blood of a nobleman? What is sacred in the ancient banner of a nation put to death by the will of God? Such things have these Godwinites-heretical taken upon themselves as idols in veneration . Oren, Oren, they cry! This is our legacy and birthright! This is the house of the Lord! But this house has fallen. “Hail Aurelius the Preserver!” shouts the heretic. But what has this man preserved? Wherefore is his Empire? Do not hail false men, fore you shall quickly forget the coming of the third son, who may yet rescue you! The same may be said, it is known, of Sigismund. Whatfore has he preserved? This argument had ought to be known well to a people who have claimed to follow the rite of Owyn- in truth, this is inveigled heresy, and the exaltation of a false man as prophet, his deeds no greater than the deeds of any prince, his prophecy the prophecy of the nations, his works the work of the vain, the labor that has cast us time and time again from the lands of God. Frederick Aurelian, by your own will have you severed yourself from the Church, from the lead of your Bishop, and by your own will have you shirked the duties of your oath-sworn vocation, the Priesthood. Do not permit yourself to succumb to this sin, you may yet reconcile! Soften your heart, again, to the ministry of Owyn’s priesthood. Satisfy the honor of your Bishop whom you have set upon like a dog! Once sworn into the service of the Priesthood set out by Owyn, one’s soul is forever shackled to God in obedience and servitude. The charisms of this calling can not be extinguished, and only by your stubborn will have they been turned into the instrument of Shaitan. Return to us! Surrender yourself in humility into the custody of your Bishop in Citrea, and in humility you will be received. The sanctuary afforded to the servants of the temple shall be extended onto you, and through the keeping of the pyre may your sins be burnt away. Such are the terms of your reconciliation. III. The Wickedness of the Magi From the shadows of that holy, holy land of Petra has risen a foul and terrible, tumorous heresy. The convents of the Magi have gone so long unchecked that in their decadence, they have come to, at last, reveal their true unrepentant colors. Even now do they publish, article after article, piece after piece, the foul declarations of a people captivated by idolatry. They have taken the void, succumbed to the temptation of Iblees, and they have raised it as an idol of their worship! We of the Faith have not heard Owyn’s Epistle to the Magi. We have ignored it, we have not heeded the words, not acted upon them. It is no wonder that they have grown so flagrant, so very brazen in their ways. The reverence of this sick power prevails all layers of society- even in crypts, where in a right and honest nation the dead are honored, one finds instead the token gratitudes of the font of power. The void-addicted Magi has risen up an army, a city. The so-called Honkmat. No happy honking to be found here, no Caiusian virtues, no clowns, it is certain. So too have they joined forces, now, with the temporal authorities as soldiers, weapons of mass-destruction, bought with loyalty and coin and all manner of favor- but loyal, in turn, to none but their power, the whispers of their ear, the commands of the unseen commandants that perpetuate their seemingly un-impeded march to Sheol, their own damnation their own ends. To all good, true souls of the Faith, do not brook this subtle war upon your faith and Blessed Lord. Fear not the slaying of the Lurinite, nor his sick brother the Honkmati, fore both Magi have taken the Void for an idol before the True God, both have now joined forces with the enemy. Be they sponsored by Petra, harbored by Haense, concealed in Veletz, hidden in Adria, it all is irrelevant! If the means of the Magi is to conceal himself under the banner of the righteous nations of the Kingdom of God, then they shall find quickly that the nations find no meaning to any of the Faith who wields a blade, and casts a stone. No man of God can be held accountable for the doing of his duty by faith. Do not brook the tyranny of the Magi, the power-addicted Maliniim, the twisted fallen Horenite. Let any man who casts a stone upon them know the great praise of the Church, just as he knows the great love of God, who guards those who guard his realm. Callahan of Mont Lemon
  12. My dear sister, Still keenly do I remember, solidified forever in my mind, the great impact of your spirit upon the world around you, conjured forth from a heart and mind unwaveringly dedicated and wholly unified in purpose, in deed, and in all the ability revealed to be in your mastery. Such a spirit is rare even among clerics, among the most dutiful of the priests of the parish, and verily unheard of in the halls of the assembly. It is a spirit becoming more of a prophet than of a priest or servant, or monastic, or holy warrior- the latter both you certainly presumed to be. And this spirit you bore, this weight you had carried, this incredible and blinding power that marched alongside you, it could be sensed, was not entirely of your person alone. No, this spirit, it was a spirit holy, not born of impeccable discipline, nor of great wisdom, nor inherited a charismatic gift of the person, and existing only by invitation into the heart of the servant. That is to say, you are one who walked undoubtedly with the Holy Spirit, the Spirit of God, and who had made yourself a vessel of His will, the perfect servant, the prophet, the one who walks with God. And so familiar was it, it could be sensed. Looking upon you I had seen a parallel in the service, and one attuned to the will of that most mysterious thing, and set upon the road ordered of them. A tool- a great, great tool, a pawn upon the board of God's great game, the manifestation of providence at the price of submission of the self, of the subsuming of the will of the self to the will of the One. This experience has been the great joy of my life, the fulfillment of my passion, the great love known to me. It is for this reason that I have long presumed to be your compatriot, and your equal, and your companion in the service. And it is for this reason also that I have found you to be a great inspiration. The inspiration of a footsoldier, who, flanking him by his shoulders march beside him and ever forward his poor brothers and sisters of the militant, struck in his heart with the power of the raised weapons of his faith to the end of the annihilation of human concupiscence, inspiration. To see the fighters onward, hope undying. More, to see, in place of the banner, a greater honor. The spectacular light, the burning flame of passion bestowing its glory upon each and every soldier of the formation, and flying high above them in radiant glory, speaking of victory, of final peace, of the security of the body and the fulfillment of the soul in its mission. Surely, this, you must also have sensed, my kinswoman. You must surely have known. Standing together we must have been seen two squinting, gazing elders, looking upon things that others could not see, would not see, would not care to sense at all. To us, it was all in calculation, to see the folly of the world, and the paths of righteousness laid out meticulously by the senses, so attuned with the spirit of command as to know by second nature the way that must be tread, and knowing in our hearts our divine prerogative, to take them through the clouds of the profane, and herd the flock onto that narrow path of safety. . . . But now we are old, and there is an aching. There is a sorrow, and a despair, and a helplessness. While it can be said that we had both been gifted of the spirit, your senses were the greater of ours. While I could feel the light, and feel vaguely the gaze of the watchers, know by some otherworldly direction the presence of greatness and too the closeness of the enemy- for you, it was more, it must have been. I come to understand, now, your suspicious glares, the twitches of your eye, the fury that abounded you. You must have known.. must have seen, yes, to truly see them. You had locked eyes with the watchers, seen true the banner on high, bore witness to the devastation of the world. It is for this reason you have been tormented. It is those who walk the prophet's path that suffer the most the wrath of the enemy, of the traitors, of the deceiver and his hosts, of the rebel hosts of great multitudes from here to the highest Heavens. I have begun to understand, now, the weight of the sorrow of our affairs. We are told the war is all but won, that the Lord of Hosts shall prevail against the lot of them, that they will be brought to heel and his boot will be upon their neck. But do we see the hallmarks of our victory? Not in our world, we do not see it. The banners do not flutter, the Empire does not reign, the hosts of Heaven do not march upon the Earth. The senses are accosted, on the daily, by the gravity of human concupiscence. These things, we, of the faith, have grown accustomed to. We have known that we live in a land of occupation, we have known our realm to be infested. This, we all have learned to live with. But to gaze upon the beauty of the watchers, of the Angel, and to see the great goodness of their being in every essence of their being, in their glory, but a fragment of the glory of their maker- but with a twisted visage, angry, warped- this is a wound unto the senses, the breaking of the heart. To see in such things the heart of evil, of such good things, and to see that they are everywhere, and the extent of their incredible malice, burning, chastising despise. How could it come to be!? They look upon us with revile, now. They have seen all our error. They have seen the trust placed in us, and have thought it squandered. It is pure and simple hatred, covetous glances, intermixed with disgust, and laden with a bitter pride betokened of the keen knowledge of better weighed against inferior. This, all, you must have known, must have at some point learned. You searched for them, our Angels in the world. You have known our allies few among the vastness of the hosts. We are the ignorant prisoners of a world sentenced to death. I beseech you, now, a peer, do not forget the glimpses into our victory that our resistance betokened. It was by the flame and the light that our marching column was afforded the hope to advance, and assured of the final victory of the militant. Yes, we are old, and the world has not changed, not budged even slightly in its stubborn ignorance. But there is more that we need still do, hope, still, for the salvation of our people, for the survival of our race, and for the annihilation of our error, for the forgiveness of our sin. Yes, the lords of the nations remain firmly in the hands of the enemy, complicit in our genocide, and the banners do not flutter atop the castles and the keeps, and yes, the church and the steeple still do remain in the shadow of their evil, but had we before known that our only hope was in the trampling of them? THIS is what we have been made to see! This, more than anything before, has been our call to arms, a glimpse into the extent of our peril, of our own evil, of the great great evil that has set us here, that it is so strong as to set all the universe against us, and still we should remain the hope of our Master, our Maker, who suffers this all to be for us not only to remain, but to succeed, and to join him in victory against all that has done error in the world, and in the Heavens, and in all places, and live exalted beside the Living God in Paradise eternal. It is by the invocation of HIS presence shall we make a stronghold of our world, and the world it is our duty to conquer for Him. For this reason you must remain, must keep your hope, must keep your strength, my sister! You must not leave us, not now, not while the world cries out in the throes of sickness, knowing that its death draws near quickly. What rest can we be afforded while our people have profaned Him? We must not despair, not for the breaking of our covenants, not for the folly of our demesne, not for any of the war, not while our God reigns supreme pantokrator. Come down from your tower, do not let us slip away. Fight for the King of Heaven's iron grip on Earth to the failing of your knees, for but a few years more. For a hundred years more, if the torment you can permit, fight with us, sister! Enter into the upheaval, the chaos I now know, that is the partisan rising of us who may yet be saved. Come again to us, sister, and we shall see to your health, to your armor, to all that must be afforded the ones who see our ends and fear our wretched path! We beg you, while still you live, fight, fight, fight! By GOD, we must preserve our hope and faith, the holy covenant! Bishop Callaghan, in call to arms, for the preservation of our spirit. Your friend and colleague, Fleeper.
  13. Friends, It has been known in our times that a spirit looms dreadfully over the nations of God's people, waiting, plotting, and most sorrowfully manifesting in such a way as to split nations in twine, set brother against brother, to sow division and forsake all of one's duties and loyalties. It is a spirit born of the most vile of politics, where the realm reign supreme over the duties of the realmholder, the King, who is but steward in the Kingdom of God of the lands that he is, by His grace, LEASED. We have seen it in Adria, where the spirit of the nations had set Duke against King, and robbed of God's Church a people in their defiance. Again, in those most modern times, we had seen it in Veletz, that made pact with the heathenry of Norland in a most unholy pact- that we may be thankful has not led to the bloodshed of any of God's people. But again, we lament, such a spirit is seen, now in the most unbecoming of places- that is, the realm that has stood against such things (to now) in defense of God and His Kingdom, the United Kingdom of Aaun. This nation, now, has taken to the side of a land of defilers, of heathenry and of heresy when in such cases these snake-formed 'men' do flaunt a cross and proclaim a 'Canonist' name, in fork-tongued hiss-ed lie. We ask, in accordance with what Canon are priests and nuns set to death for the open repudiation of the worship of the void-unclean? In what scripture is it written that all the world doth bend and bow in 'balance' to this most slandered and beloved Elder Child of God, Eshtael? The United Kingdom of Aaun has made its bed, we say again in great distress, with the forces of evil that are manifest within the nation of Lurin, baring the spirit of Sutica, and coated head-to-toe in lie and half-truth. They have persecuted the clergy of the Faith, complicit in the wounding and torture of priest upon priest and bishop upon bishop, not sparing even the nuns, it is known. Will this, the land of Godwin, stand shamefully in defense of such a place, where the Void is worshipped above all? Will this, the land of Godwin be made slave and tyrannizer for such a realm, where Canonist man, proclaiming God divine, is in breach of law and enemy of 'the peace'? You have sworn now, Land of Godwin, not only to defend this place, but to persecute all who may do harm against it domestically. You have promised, more, that any who shall be in breach of the law there be surrendered to them in chains, dragg-ed before the false courts of the diabolists, where again the very mouthing of God's word is CRIMINAL. By this rebukation we pray that this nation, holy in its core, and in his deeds and history, be brought back into the fold, and fall not into the temptations of earthly and material power that the spirit of the nations doth compel them to seek and to indulge, lest they fall from the Grace of God and suffer yet more tragedy in the absence of him. Pray for them. Come proclamato da il Cancelliere della Sacra Corona di San Roberto, Don delle Colline di Limone (As proclaimed by the Chancellor of the Sacred Crown of Saint Robert, Father of Lemon hill)
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