framalam

Far, far, in the wastes of the north, an Uruk hears from the whispers of his tribesmen the death of his predecessor. Without weeping, he bows his head in his palms, and breathes a sob of powerlessness. "There is nothing we can do." His regent lay slain alongside his brother, and his people were leaderless, yet still, he could not leave.

Far, far, in the biting breeze of his birth-wastes, the rex’s eyes hum defiantly against the sheets of snow that fall. By his side, a lone tracker lone no more, skin swarthy, and tattered in the wraps of the enemy. “Grand virtue, in imitation of the Allfather.” he whispers to the winds, and his companion, shrugging off the cold and marching into white once more.

The Hyperborean sits on the COLD SLATE of the Lurakgoi's throne. Three taps dot his temples, over, and over, and over. "SKAH." He murmurs.

DISMANTLING OF THE SHAMAN LODGE https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=TYtdYslLY9I BY SKALVOR’s HAND 2A 218 FOREWORD The Shaman Lodge was an institution established by the Rex Grommash, now the Augur, the Prophet, the Soothsayer of Krug. It was created in an attempt to do what it never could, despite being an institution - to institutionalise the faith of the Urukim. And yet, the Shaman Lodge grew infected. Despite the inclusion, in tradition, of Honouraries into Orcish society, it has always been the intent, and the reality, of each and every Orcish state, to remain homogenous. So too was it Grommash’s, so too is it Skalvor’s, even if it may not have been Daahd’s. Even Daahd, before his crowning of Rhak, oversaw the Khanate’s splintering in two: one Elven, one Orcish. The heterogeneity lasted no longer than it had to, and it had to to muster an army capable of defeating the Ubuntu horde. There is no ill faith between Skalvor and the former brothers of the horde in Caurost, but he knows that his home is his, and their home is theirs. So too is our faith ours, and their faith theirs. The Shaman Lodge has been detached from its goal: to unify the Urukim. It has served only to divide. The gift taken by Krug has been snatched, our fire stolen by the imitatory Malinim. It has been perverted. To this, and with the support of Madoc’Lur, Mot’sham of the Shaman Lodge, and spiritual advisor to the Rex Skalvor, Skalvor decrees thus: SHAMAN LODGE IS KAPUTZ THE FOLLOWING IS DECREED: The Shaman Lodge is abolished; The Lodge is formally dissolved an institution; The Lodge shall henceforth be recognised as illegitimate, without recognition or authority, and its mantle and title shall be erased from memory as a failed endeavour; All traditions, practices, and claims to spiritual authority and legitimacy attributed to the Shaman Lodge are hereby null and void; The faith of the Urukim shall be maintained as distinct from external factors; The faith of the Urukim will not be conflated or influenced by non-Uruk ideology; The Urukim refuse all imitations of the Shaman Lodge by the Malinim; The practices of any other non-Kruggite groups, including Malinim imitations, will be refused by the Urukim under risk of ostracisation. DISSOLUTION OF THE SHAMKLAMOR THE FOLLOWING IS DECREED: All legislation regarding or derived from the Shamklamor is null and void; Krugistan will not recognise any legislation originating from the Shamklamor; Codified Shaman laws from the Shamklamor will not be spread; The Shamklamor will lose all backing from Krugistan. CONCLUSION Let us follow in the way of our ancestors. Let us follow in the way of Krug. Our faith is ours alone, not to be shared or diluted by other influences. Unity is paramount. We come together to forge a new path, one true to our heritage. Our future lies in our capacity to learn from the past, realise the mistakes of our predecessors, and better ourselves. SO SAYS SKALVOR. SKALVOR REX OF KRUGISTAN

One of many of the blood his mother had fought so valiantly to redeem, to strengthen, Lusian Halvan feels a tremble, only for a moment, through the overbearing warmth of the Taxiarch’s keep. “A martyr.” he whispers soothingly to himself, and to the departed soul, “Your blood was chosen, but never spilt…” the man further laments, before the memory fades as quickly as he remembered it.

KRUGISTAN REVITALISATION, MOBILISATION, AND RALLYING OF THE KRUGISTANI KRUGHAI https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=T1HcpunKE8I BY SKALVOR’s HAND 2A 217 FOREWORD Since the Sundering of the Ubuntus into millions of sullied splinters by the great Orcish drums of Wagh, first Vikela, then the Shire, then all after; our Krughai have stagnated. Reduced to mere raiding parties, shadows of the might of the Horde under the returned Grommash, they have further deteriorated in my period of self-introspection, reflection, and communion with the Azhfather Krug (wagh be upon him). It is my eternal mission as elected Waghtinka, and as crowned Rex of all Krug, the loadstone of Krugistan, to ensure the peoples are at a perpetual readiness for conflict. I do not stop at readiness. I do not settle for mediocrity. Skalvor settles only for efficiency. DISMANTLING OF THE NOMENKLATURA Bureaucracy is not the way of Skalvor’s people, it is not the way of Grommash’s people, it is not the way of Krug. Krug had no millions of ministers and ministers beneath them beneath him. Nor will I. Know this, all sons of Krug, that Skalvor values nothing but the making of man. So, henceforth: TIDERIPPA’RAGUK is deposed as DOMINUS, for the role to be abolished RHAK’DOM is deposed as TARGOTH, for the role to be reformed GHARAK’YAR is deposed as YAZGURTAN, for the role to be reformed SKALVOR is deposed as WAGHTINKA OF THE THAUG’MAUGRIM, for the role to be abolished REFORMATION OF FORMER MINISTERIAL OFFICES All the same, azh nation cannot be constructed around azh sole Urukim. It is not the interest, nor the capacity, of Skalvor to fill all the roles previously beneath him. So, to delegate only the role of STEWARDSHIP, and the collection of tribute from all those beneath Krugistan, Skalvor has delegated two government businesses: ZILZIBIN TAUNTTONGUE is to be appointed YAZGURTAN UZGK’GRIZH and OBS OBS’RAGUK are to be appointed GRUBGOTH Fear the new system. Let the new system never fall into the throes of the old. Let no new upper class evolve in the Horde. The Horde are one. One for all, all for one, one nation under Krug (wagh be upon him). Hold great panic in your mind, Urukim, for the day the BURJWA reappears, for its ugly head will always be reared once more. COMPARTMENTALISATION OF THE KRUGHAI In the wastes of north there is few better system than to rely on his fellow Urukim. Skalvor has led many years in the north with great success, and so he will conquer the south by will of Krug, by will of his ancestors, by will of Mauloch. Of honor, of courage, of all that is good, let AZH NATION MARCH AS AZH ARMY. BATTLE ORDER Let the Krughai be organised in such a ladder below: THE KRUGHAI: To be headed by the Hozh’Targoth and advised by the Targoth, to oversee any and all collection of the current seniormost Krughai unit. THE KRUGGOI KLOMPMOB: To be headed by a LOOTACHIEF and advised by a WAGHBRINGA, comprising two BANDMOBS. THE BANDMOB: To be headed by a WAGHBLAHA and advised by a WAGHBOSS, comprising two WAGHBANDS. THE WAGHBAND: The base unit of the Krughai to be headed by a SMASHBOSS, and advised by a KORPZBRAGGA, comprising SIX KRUGHAI. ASSIGNMENTS And so as it is reformed, does Skalvor need worthy Urukim to fill such structure, to give flesh to the skeleton, to the skeleton fur, to the maw fangs, to the wolf claws. Let such Urukim be recognised for MILITARY EXPERTISE: GRUGMAK, o’ the THAUG’MAUGRIM, as Smashboss of the 1st Waghband, 1st Bandmob, Kruggoi Klompmob OBS OBS, o’ the clan RAGUK, as Smashboss of the 2nd Waghband, 1st Bandmob, Kruggoi Klompmob Let, furthermore, such Urukim be recognised for MILITARY OVERSIGHT: SKALVOR, o’ the THAUG’MAUGRIM, as interim Hozh’Targoth GRUGMAK, o’ the THAUG’MAUGRIM, as Hozh’Waghboss and direct voice of all Runt Krughai to the Hozh’Targoth SKALVOR REX OF KRUGISTAN HOZH’TARGOTH OF THE KRUGHAI

To preserve the URUKIM investment in Grub Bucket, Skalvor quickly metabeams a response. DEAR ONI, SKALVOR SEE MISCOMMUNICATION ERROR. SKALVOR MEAN, ‘ANY SHAMON WHO NOT FOLLOW CODE BE KILL’. SKALVOR TAKE NOT ATTEND AS INDICATOR OF REJECT CODE. IF AZH SHAMON OF ONI-SHAMON COME, PROBABLY ENOUGH FOR SKALVOR, BECAUSE THEN ONE SHAMON SPREAD MESSAGE OF COUNCIL. SAME APPLY (MAYBEE) TO STARLANDAS. ZORREE, SKALVOR

KRUGISTAN CONVENT OF SHAMANS ♪♫♪ NONOBLIGATORY MUSIC BY REX SKÂLVOR’S HAND 215 S.A ______________________________________________________________________________ PREAMBLE Skâlvor has seen the taint of the Immortals upon his people long before his first shaman-meet. Now, he equally recognises the inherent distrust of the TWIGGIE-SHAMAN to be willing to come to Krug. All the same, know this: The faith of Spiritualism, that is the worship of the Spirits through communion with Shamans, is UTTER HOGWAZH. We have seen time and time again, the greed of the Immortals, and that they do not value our worship anymore than they value the lack of worship. The Immortals divide. Where one Shaman, who may be a worshipper of the Spirit of Disease, KINUL may worship and build shrines to his spirit, another Shaman, who may be a worshipper of the Spirit of Health, AKEZO, will look at this Shaman, and call him stupid, and misguided. This cannot do. This is a divisive factor of our faith. There is no unifying code for what little faith we have other than the code of Krug, which itself has become diluted, and shifted again, and again, and again. Know that the code of Krug, which has been changed by every Rex ever, it so seems, will be codified as this under SKÂLVOR, and know that this is the code that this called Convent of Shamans should heed as KRUG’S, and thus by extension, the STARGUSH’STROH’s as a whole: TO BE HONORABLE TO HATE AND PURGE IBLEES TO LOVE AND RESPECT KRUG Beyond this, I know many shaman, and any of those who have heard Skâlvor, who have read of Skâlvor’s praise to Mauloch, will call him misguided. All the same, Skâlvor will be no heretic. Let Mauloch be discussed, and his divinity as SPIRIT-REX, as UNIFIER of KRUG and MALCH be evaluated, independently of the Rex, by this council of shamans. ______________________________________________________________________________ THE CONVENT LET ALL SHAMANS, regardless of RACE, AFFILIATION, WORSHIP, OTHER MAGICKS, CRIMES, and STATUS, be invited to Krugistan, and granted safe passage by this hand, Skâlvor, Rex of Krugistan. LET ALL SHAMANS convene within the desert’s peak, nearest to the ZPIRITS. LET ALL SHAMANS engage, OBLIGATOtRILY, with the practice of consuming CACTUS GREEN, so that nearness to the Stargush’Stroh can be achieved. LET ALL SHAMANS consent, to not leave the desert’s peak until A CODIFIED WILL OF THE STARGUSH’STROH is WRITTEN, TRANSCRIBED, and REPRODUCIBLE. LET ALL SHAMANS who leave before such code is created be executed. LET ALL SHAMANS who reject this invitation without proper reasoning be executed as apostate, and forsaker of the Stargush’STROH. LET ALL WORSHIPPERS OF THE STARGUSH’STROH attend, to give their opinion, and knowledge, but not vote. Arrive, shamans of all ilk, or know that the Horde will hunt you to the end of your days, and that to wander the Badlands will mean nothing but death. SIGNED, SKÂLVOR REX OF KRUGISTAN, WAGHTINKA OF THE THAUG’MAUGRIM

KRUGISTAN MARCH OF THE AZHAL https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=akFZtK0GVU4 (SONG IS OBLIGATORY TO READ POST) BY REX SKALVOR’S HAND KRUG’S YEAR 2011 LURAK IS KAPUTZ. And with this, let Skalvor make his first proclamation: ALL URUKIM ARE TO RETURN TO THE GOI. With the return of Grommash and his naming, alongside Kretz’Ox, as Azhal, that is envoy to all Urukim, that is welcomer of all Urukim to return to the goi, that is as GREAT UNIFIER. Let all Azhal, let all Urukim usher in a new age of our people under Skalvor-Me. Let all Urukim find a home in the goi, whether they blah the Blah, whether they blah the Common, whether their HIGHER SPIRITS find themselves somewhere else. I, Skalvor, say so: ALL URUKIM ARE TO COME. ALL URUKIM WILL BE HEARD IN KLAMOR. It is not your home, it is not your upbringing, it is not your faith, but it is your blood. It is the blood of Krug that should bring all Urukim home to Skalvor, and home to goi. So I call to the exile, because Skalvor once was exile, so I call to the nomad, because Skalvor once was nomad, so I call to the clanless, because Skalvor is clanless, so I call to the apostate, because Skalvor was once apostate: come home. Long has our people’s diaspora weakened our resolve, and let us stray from the code of Krug that should so bind us as it binds our blood. Long have we forgotten the ways of our ANCESTAZ, long have we forgotten the rite of communion with the spirits in Stargush, the domain of KRUG-MAULOCH. Long, brothers all, have we forgotten what it means to be Kruggite. Skalvor has killed Voidalist. Skalvor will kill freako. Skalvor will collect all that is Krug’s will to collect, and Skalvor will unite our people. Watch, brothers, how far from the Badlands they snicker and jeer at you. They call you dull-minded for how you speak, they call you hideous for how you look, the bearing of the mark of Krug upon your face, they call you uncouth for our very physiognomy. (artist depiction of dead voidalist after kicked into pit) Let the URUKIM live as ONE NATION UNDER KRUG. AZH NATION UNDER KRUG. WITNESS, FREAKOREXES, on how the sons of Krug assemble. Kruggites, know that the Pinkies, know that the Dwed, know that the Twiggie all fear you. They fear you, because in you, they see a son of Krug larger than them, a son of Krug stronger than them, a son of Krug more zealous than them, a son of Krug more adept than them, and in all of that, they have nothing more to say than to deem you lesser. In the lands not of Krug you will forever be subject to discrimination. In the lands not of Krug you will never be seen as equal. Give praise to the Oni, for their FIGHT for EQUALITY, that they have so vigilantly risen and stood as equal, as KRUGGITE among OTHERS. Yet, know too, that the ONI do not forsake the way of Krug. They do not forsake our traditions, they do not forsake our practices, they do not forsake Krug altogether. These traditions, that have so long lain dormant as the goi remain dormant, will verifiably, and justly, be re-awoken under the hand of Skalvor. Let the hunter return, let the warforger return, let the preacher of the Stargush’Zoh return, let ALL OF YOU RETURN. Let the knight return, let the smith return, let the architect return, let the shepherd return, let ALL URUKIM RETURN. Under Skalvor, will no Uruk be treated preferentially. Under Skalvor, let your ACTION make your NAME, not your BLOOD, not your CLAN, not your AGE. Let all Urukim be EQUAL UNDER KRUG, Olog, Uruk, Gobbo, all be equal, and let ALL URUKIM RETURN. To be a KRUGGITE is to be above. Know that our bodies are of better stock, for our father was the strongest of his brothers. Know that our minds are as keen as any other, for our father was keen enough to heed the Spirits and strike down Iblees. Know that our bodies are resilient, that our fabrics are incorruptible. It is our father that first was blessed with the word of the Spirits, with his code of Krug. Of all descendants, let none best us in body, let none best us in mind, and now, let none best us in community. LET ALL URUKIM RETURN. There is a place for all, there is a place for all strong and courageous and honorable, so let all Urukim return. Let your exile be done. Let the goi be resplendent again. Return to the Bled, return from your exile, return to the Badlands. Let all of you speak in Klamor, to advise our people, to heed the code, to live, as one. Grommash will visit you. The Azhal will visit you. I will visit you. Krug will visit you. HEED OUR CALL. AZH NATION UNDER KRUG. SKALVOR REX OF KRUGISTAN WAGHTINKA OF THE THAUG’MAUGRIM

“Wub da skah.” Skalvor quips. “Skalvor just met this guy.”

Jörg Keen is immensely surprised by Raev ingenuity. He eyes the missive denouncing his cousin (instead of his constituents), and to the bottom of each he saw, does he draw a smiley face before the words of the VERITABLE DEFENDER. “I wish I had thought of making laws, and then charging people who broke those laws before they were made. Truly ingenious tyranny.”

In DEEP RED FONT, does the REX SKALVOR pen his reply: Dear SHIREMAN, Your UBUNTU-HOSTING home has been razed. Much love, SKALVOR, Waghtinka of Mauloch, Rex of LURAKISTAN

tSTRENGTH THROUGH ADVERSITY; HONOR THE FROST AND FLAME; UNITY IS SURVIVAL; THE HUNT IS SACRED; DEATH IS THE FINAL GIFT; HEED THE SPIRITS; CLAIM WHAT YOU CAN KEEP DA AWAKENING A CALL ECHOES across Aevos, a gelid breeze accompanying every sound, of every horn, of every Thrag. SKALVOR, WAGHTINKA of the Thaug’Maugrim, has been touched by the SPIRIT-REX, a blessing bestowed by MAULOCH HIMSELF. The Sacred Hunt has blazed the path of each Thrag forward, a vision of unity and strength bestowed upon the Uruks of the north. Let the frost test our mettle, let the flame burn bright in our souls. Join the BAND OF SKALVOR, blessed by the Spiritrex. Let the thundering of drums awaken your spirit. Embrace the strength from unity. Let us become the UNYIELDING ICE, and the UNQUENCHABLE FLAME, to sweep across the Southron fields. SKALVOR, blessed by Mauloch with the spirit of the hunt, has seen this destiny in the flames of the Hearth of Mauloch. He has heard the whispers of the ancestors, calling for a return to the old ways, the ways of strength, honor, and survival. TO THE OLD WAYS. HEED THE CALL, SISTUZ AND BRUDDAZ. GLORY AND HONOR TO ALL THOSE WHO JOIN THE ETERNAL HUNT. https://discord.gg/UEdeVYA5rb https://docs.google.com/document/d/17-eBvA1KB2eypxaTv6vZrkElh5NFYMdzr5wuQ7rROH4/edit?usp=sharing

DEATH BY POLITICK It was said many times unto Ildriunn, son of Aldric, that it was unbecoming of a Numenedan to die of old age. And so, from so so young, did Aldric the Harrenite bestow onto his young boy the flepirly light, that untainted seedling of the Ruach HaKodesh to bring about the tzimtzum. To be so carelessly loyal, devout, unwilling to accept wrongness, and eager to learn. To be flepirly, content to stand in a guard post, all day, each day. All the same, it was not enough. It was said many times unto Ildriunn too, to be untrusting of the ‘macecatcher’, of the ‘knife-ear’, ‘treehugger’, ‘twiggie’. And so, from so so young, did Aldric the Harrenite bestow onto his young boy his ambition, to be grander, to be Horenite. It was said many times unto Ildriunn, the code of Uther Pendragon. And so, from so young, did Aldric the Harrenite bestow onto his young boy the VANDER-HARRENITE dream. To serve his Tar, and redeem his race, whether he knew it or not, and to do so with honor, with courage, with that which all goodly knights had before him. It was said many times unto Ildriunn, the Radiant Guardsman, that he mustn’t discriminate, that he must abandon his pride, abandon his inflammatory nature, that he must abandon that which his father made him. But so too did his father make him a servant of the House Arthalionath, so why would he stop in one, and not the other? Why did the good Canonius come before him, teaching him different? Oh Tiberias, why did you leave him so? Why must you have politicked!? Tiberias, why! It was said many times unto Lucien, the orderman, that he should be humble. And so he was humbled, when he lashed out in the same pride and anger that had begrudgingly had him plunge himself into battle by the side of the Numenedain, the same that had had him stripped of his post as guardsman, castigated from his people. But he would not listen, for his father surely knew better. To be goodly, to be honorable, to be courageous, to finish every endeavour, to say everything you say with conviction. And so Lucien said with conviction, ‘This is no justice!’, and so the prince dove at him, and so he swung, and so he kicked when the princess drew her sword, and so he fell when the crowd fell on him. It was said many times unto Lucien, the exile, that he should be loving. And so he was loving, when his wife cradled him to Kretzen, when his uncle had him speak before Gelimar and Saint Tylos, and genuflect, somehow, atop a saddle as he tugged on his horse of miasma more than flesh, and listen, ‘You have come at an impasse, Lucien, where you must choose between your people, and your faith’, and all man that would be loving would say, ‘My people, my wife, my family!’. But he would not listen, for Canonius surely knew better, for Callahan knew better, for the Church knew better. It was said many times unto Lukas, the Apsinthion, that he should be dutiful and diligent and steer clear from all sin. And so he was dutiful, and diligent, when Barend left, when Lug left, when there were none to steer the Judites but he. And so he was dutiful and diligent, when he lassoed the knights-of-benevolently-pink-yechidah, whose flepirhood he smelled on the air, as he smelled the lemon tarts of his mother, as he bore her feather in his helm. And so, as he investigated, and investigated, he was diligent and so dutiful and so well-tested and resolute. But he would not stay such, for the An-Gho knew better, for he, Lukas, surely knew better. For surely, he cannot look upon a being has been taught to kill, one that should despise him, and be accepted, rather than cut down? For surely, they are redeemable. It was said many times unto Slawomir, the Leper, that he should be noble, and prudent, and never lie. And so he was noble, and prudent, and honest, when he forged his story from lies and spun it, and so he was noble, and prudent, and honest, when he hunted down Stein and cleaved his head from his shoulders alongside the very Orc who had kicked him to his knees so many years prior. But he knew, looking to the eyes of Raguel, of Caius-Brandt, and of Callahan, that he was not noble, nor prudent, nor honest, nor penitent. He was not penitent, for surely he did no wrong. But he is sinful!, but he would not say such, for surely he, Slawomir, disciple of Bogomil, knew better. It was said many times unto Lukas, the flepirknight, that he should come and hold discourse. And so he did, and he came, and he talked with the Father Callahan, and he talked with the Father Brandt, and all he knew was all he had known, that they were arrogant, that he was arrogant, that they would not listen, that they would not see the goodliness, that they could not love like he could. For as he cut down every beast, every lich, every demon, so too did he, in the throes of their wallowing tragedy and torment, so too did he see, within almost all, humanity. But, if they had fallen, and they were once human, why would they not be accepted as penitent? Why can they not be penitent? Why are they not penitent? He brought no change, and he grew haughty, angry, arrogant, that he, and none else, could ever be right. It was said many times unto Lucien Aldricson, the goleh, that he was a blasphemer. And so he was lashed, and so he was starved, and so he was chilled, and so he grew infected. He festered. But more than he, the shard of Ein Sof, of the shattering of the Ruach HaKodesh in their golus, so much alike to HIS golus, it had embedded itself within him. And so he saw the FOUR KINGDOMS of DANIEL, and so he saw the heretic in Silasia, and so he rebuked them, again, and again, and again, for Raguel was true. For he had seen Raguel, again, and again! Everytime he slept, he saw Raguel, he saw the angels, he saw the Lord, and he saw the palaces. He saw the palaces, and in his stupor, he walked them, and the Light whispered to him, ‘You will not die, for it is not your time. You will not die, for it is not your time, for you have the hard case of Sin to shatter on the hearts of men’, the seraphim whispered all at once in unison to his ears as he gazed upon the moss as his hand grew steady as his hand grew unsteady and wrote and wrote and wrote and never ceased again. But he was not free. It was said many times unto Harreniel, the kohen, that he must make them flepirly. And so he tried, and tried, and tried, but never enough. Never enough, for his father left him, and his father succumbed, and succumbed, to the illnesses of his hermitage and pilgrimage, to the illnesses of the politick that the Godwinite so evilly whispered into his ear. And so he tried, and tried, but never enough, for his king had left him, and his people had followed and left their king to stay and infect themselves with the lies of Druii. And so he tried, and tried, but just enough to turn the Ivori-Oren-Shills loving. He tried, and he tried, but it was never enough. And so in all his stress, in all his writing, in all his works, he tried. Why are they not penitent? Why are they not penitent? He asked, again, and again, to icons, to himself, to icons, to saints, to visions, ‘Why does the boy see, but I no longer?’, he asks, ‘Why am I not enough for the Collegium?’, he asks, so poopslave they call him, so noob, they call him. But he was noobly, and he was a poopslave, and he was, at his heart, the same flepir he once was. But despite all he had seen, all He had shown him, all blinding emanations of His light, the merkevah shot across the sky of Kretzen, he could not change them. It was said many times unto Harreniel, the shepherd, that he must keep his father from the politick. And so he tried, and tried, but never enough. He never could keep the taint of the tinge of Sin of Ibliz from rotting the lemon groves, from seeping into the oils of his anointment, and so he was never enough. And so he passed it unto his acolytes, all six, and so he hoped, and he prayed, that as they were loving and flepirs-of-of-benevolently-pink-yechidah, that they would do so after him. That they would love, that the Great Rift be mended, that Villorik may die knowing that all that Caius-Brandt had fought for was not in vain. That Horen may look down at his peoples, and say, to himself, to his Lord, ‘Lord, look, they are one again!’. And so he fought, and fought, and fought, and threw himself to every fight and every debate and every resolution and every baptism and every penance and every penitent and every heathen and every little tinge of the Corruptor he could ever find, merely to find, he was not enough. So they said a final time unto Harenniel, ‘You cannot die, father, you cannot die!’, and so he heard his child’s cries within the door. And so as he seized, before the icon of the Blessed Caius-Brandt, and as the sneering Crabspawn said, ‘We have no free will! We have no free will! Let my husband into the Collegium, let him in! He must be in!’, he froze. It was all too much, as he saw, no matter how much he fought, no matter how much he preached, no matter how much was burnt into his skin, no matter how many limbs or eyes the Lord gave him back to fight anew, no matter how many sermons he gave, no matter how many slop-theses he threw out to Candonom, no matter how much he fought, and fought, and sobbed, and fought, Lucien Aldricson was not enough. So, the Keen said a final time unto Harreniel, ‘The Lord welcomes you with a smile father,’ so the vile Petrine delayed her healing, so the Ivori bickered between themselves of how to best treat their priest, and so he knew, in his heart of hearts, that his time had come. He knew, that no matter how much he had done, that the Crabspawn, that any sinner or Saulican that can hide behind the mask that Adrian of Ascalon had once done, could do so, again, and again, and again, and forevermore. He knew, and he saw, that that mask of the Crabspawn, was too the mitre of the Cardinal, and he knew that there was no use any longer. Poison, fate, a clot. It did not matter how it happened, for the keen said a final time unto Harreniel, ‘He welcomes you with a smile. It is your time.’, and the priest, in his heart of hearts, knew it was true. But he did not pass quietly. He would be accepted as penitent, and so in one last cry, he said nothing of note at all. A true noob. But in his heart of hearts, he knew what he wished to cry out, ‘YOU MAY GIVE UP YOUR PURPOSE BUT MINE IS ASSIGNED TO ME BY HEAVEN, AND I DARE NOT!’ Far in the heavens, a kohen falls in line alongside a man who had blown his legs off with grapeshot, a man who deemed him his greatest failure, and the Black Swordsman between them all. So Lucien Aldricson, with his soul devoured, was denied his eternal rest, to join the hyperwar he so valiantly fought to bring peace, and an end to. Let the Raev rip the Orenian to shreds, and the Renatan kill his grandson, and the Raev his grandson after him, and the Marnan his grandson, and the Raev his grandson, and the Veletzer his grandson, and the Raev his grandson, and the Holylander his grandson after him. This land is mine. Let hyperwar be here, let my failure haunt me forever. Let Siegmund peck on carrion forever. Let Owyn purge him forever. REQUIESCAT IN PACE, LUCIEN. ☺ [!] Missives would be sent from Gottenthal to the last known addresses of the noob's acquaintances:

STRENGTH THROUGH ADVERSITY; HONOR THE FROST AND FLAME; UNITY IS SURVIVAL; THE HUNT IS SACRED; DEATH IS THE FINAL GIFT; HEED THE SPIRITS; CLAIM WHAT YOU CAN KEEP The THAUG’MAUGRIM are an Orcish peoples defined, historically, by their isolation to the far north of Aevos. Exiled from the Horde, or from the Oni, (or merely vagabonds all the same) it is along the wastes of Ailmere and the battered frozen coasts that the forsworn, be they oathbreakers, traitors, and apostates find refuge. Holding dear to their hearts and their blades is their dogma: their philosophy and series of tenets founded on the necessities of living in desolation. On the shattering of the Harrower, the thrusting of Ailmere into wider conflict with further raids on Lumbridge, and northward expansion of the southrons as a whole, the Thaug’Maugrim have been thrust south, out from seclusion. Dominated by a caste system, the Thaug’Maugrim are shepherded by their kratocratic elite, second by their shamans, and third by an undermined working class. The individual Thrag must prove themselves mighty to take their place, and to be recognised so that any authority had, is authority earned. Conversely, strength is honored in a multifaceted approach: a statesman who may have less use than a soldier on the battlefield may be more highly valued simply by virtue of his utility. It is the contribution of an Orc to his tribe that is valued, and viewed as strength, rather than that Orc’s ability to crush a skull - these are simply usually synonymous. An Orc’s place within society is determined not by birth but by their deeds, their strength, and their contribution to the tribe. An Orc might rise from a humble warrior to a respected warlord, or a shaman might rise to the rank of spiritual leader, based on their ability to prove themselves. The Thaug’Maugrim, though more through necessity than codified law, operate within a triumvirate: the ruling class, holding both military and political power; the shamans, who serve as spiritual leaders, wise men, interpreters of the spirits, and shepherds; and the vargok, the hunters, ironworkers, and architects who work in protection and production for the tribe. The class mobility upon which their kratocratic/meritocratic society is pieced upon revolves chiefly around proving rites and sacraments, the most renowned of which being their Sacred Hunt. Born of necessity to teach further generations and new arrivals from the Kingsroad how to look after oneself, but also the tribe, the Sacred Hunt consists rather simply of an assignment of a target, and presenting that target to an elder, dead or alive. Extending off this barebones rite, it is traditional for this elder to consist of a shaman, who would then assign a bountiful target in order to both please the Spirits, as well as serve as an indicator for the lifepath of the Orc. The difficulty, success, and result of an Orc’s Sacred Hunt holds great value among the Thaug’Maugrim, serving, again, doubly as one of their most well kept records, and as one of their tried and tested claims to fame, being their tradition of greatest renown. Though without a proper name, originating from common keepsakes given from hunter to hunter, tidbits of advice, the Creed can, at its core, be reduced to 7 core tenets whose values are held closer than their words. STRENGTH THROUGH ADVERSITY; “Frost does not forgive the weak.” Hardship is the ultimate forge. Through enduring and overcoming the harshest winters, the strongest pines grow taller. Strength is both a collective virtue and a collective necessity to ensure the survival of the tribe. HONOR THE FROST AND FLAME; “Ice our crucible; flame our spirit.” Reverence of the flame centers largely around the same reverence of Mauloch, Archspirit. The Thraug’Maugrim revere the cold as the force that tests them, welcoming it, and fire as the symbol of their unyielding COURAGE AND BRAVERY against the frost: sacred, complementary. To blaspheme them is to be exiled. UNITY IS SURVIVAL; “One snowfall is blown off by the wind; together, they harden to ice.” The tribe’s survival depends wholly on its integrity and unity. Betrayal, deceit, and selfishness are all met with universal shame. Every Thrag has a role, and every role its purpose: the survival of all, the preservation of life. THE HUNT IS SACRED; “The land gives, and we take; we give, and the land takes.” The Thaug’Maugrim grant a certain worship to the land, and world as a whole. It was in the First’s ritualistic suicide and act of selflessness that all was born. Each kill is a gift, and to waste such respect is a grave offense. As they take, they must give, and ensure their son’s sons may eat after them. DEATH IS THE FINAL GIFT; “To face finality unflinching is the mark of the brave.” As reverents of the Archspirit Mauloch, to fear death is viewed as a dishonor to the land that birthed an Orc. A warrior’s death is the highest honor, and to die in protection of the tribe ensures eternal remembrance. HEED THE SPIRITS; “The clouds whisper, and the wise listen.” Each of the Thaug’Maugrim believe in the guidance of the spirits as shepherds. Rites of sacrifice, acts of courage, and various rituals in honor of the spirits are commonplace as acts of appeasement in hope of advice, boons, and in the most extreme of cases, intervention. CLAIM WHAT YOU CAN DEFEND “Nothing is given freely. Beware excess, lest you expose yourself.” The habitat of the waste gives little care for the unattentive. It is the responsibility of each Thrag, no matter how the spirits favor him, to be his own master: all that he can keep is his to claim, and rightfully so. The Pact of Mauloch serves as an unreformed exilic detachment from the traditional hierarchies of Shamanism, following an ancestralist tradition and a typical Shamanist pantheon, but differing greatly in the incorporation of certain aspects of the aenguldaemonica as ‘greater’ or ‘lesser’. Chief among these: Mauloch, the deified progenitor Krug combined with Malchediel as king of the heavens. It is his dominion over fire, strength, along with the bravery and courage necessary to overcome the wastes that leaves the Thaug’Maugrim so utterly admiring, despite his persistent call against worship. Named so as a literal pledge to Mauloch, the Thaug’Maugrim pay allegiance to their tenets, seeking to uphold them and seek his guidance, and that of the spirits they believe him superior to. Though not an extensive list, the faith itself being passed through oral and kept tradition, there are several more established rites that Thrag wisemen regularly perform. THE HEARTH OF MAULOCH The heart of the tribe, and the Thaug’Maugrim altogether, Mauloch’s Hearth serves both as a focal point of both mysticist congregation and the community as a whole. Symbolically a marker of the tribe’s location, spirit, and resilience against the gelid freeze, the flame burns bright, and eternal, just as the flame of Mauloch. Fed by the contributions of each member, to let the flame die is to invite the indifference of cold into their heart, to extinguish the strength of tribe. The warmth of spirit, and the warmth of the fire, are integral to life in the wastes. It is by the hearth that so much of Thaug’Maugrim life revolves around. By the hearth are yukar sung: rhythmicised sagas of feats of the divine or of ancestors. RITE OF THE SNOWSEER A tradition of guidance during times of hardship and uncertainty, the rite of the Snowseer relies wholly on a Shaman’s synchronised interpretations of both ancestral spirits and Creation. Whether reading off of thermokarsts, snowfalls, patterned ground, bird flight, or a more traditional direct communion with the spirits, it is the responsibility of the Shaman to guide, to act as messenger. RITE OF THE ASHBRAND Symbolically an embracing of the flame and all Creation beneath it, the rite of the Ashbrand is as much an endurance of pain, as it is a show of faith. From the constantly cleared soot of the Hearth of Mauloch, it is the duty of certain shamans to embroider the spirit of the tribe into an Orc: a Tufuga. With the use of a comb, usually of ivory, and the soot rendered into an ink-like mixture with water, or other liquids, in recognition of great feats, or great tragedies, the Tufuga inscribes whatever they see fit upon the body of the willing Orc. MAULOCH’S EMBRACE As reverents and great respectors of Mauloch, holding the firm belief that there is no greater honor than a warrior’s death, cremation is the preferred method of the Thaug’Maugrim to deal with the dead. Traditions vary, especially when those handling the cadaver differ: a family may cremate them more ceremoniously than a warband, but that the warrior is cremated remains true. As an additive to the ancestralist tribute a Thrag may pay, it is seen respectable to either bake an urn of the ash, or conceal the ash within a clay urn. All the same, this icon serves as just that: a religious icon with which to remember those who died for the tribe. THE SACRED HUNT The central tradition of the Pact of Mauloch, of any Thrag, and of the Thaug’Maugrim as a whole, the hunt relies on shamans of the Pact of Mauloch. Communion with the spirits, the rite of the Snowseer, and other mystical traditions often precede the ceremonial quarry, The Thaug'Maugrim, shaped by the whispers of spirits, death and cold on the biting wind, bear a cultural blood woven thricefold from threads of survival, resilience, and deep connection to the land of the ancestors. It is through their rites, through their faith, but keenly their way of life that they are held up from the icy maws of death so long, even beneath the Harrower’s shade. SACRED WATERS Surrounded by so much of it that water in all its forms obfuscates the nature beneath, the Thaug’Maugrim place immense value unto waterways. Be they frozen streams, rivers, glaciers, corrie lakes, or anything of the like, water is recognised as the lifeblood: the crucible to which flame is their spirit. It is along these waterways, notable monuments among shifting snow and blinding blizzards that the Thaug’Maugrim so often make their homes. Recognisable, useful, nurturing: integral to all life in the frost. ANCESTRALISM Reverence of the ancestral spirits goes beyond recognising their capacity to intervene on the mortal plane. In honoring their memory, so too is the tribe itself honored for the ancestors embody the strength, resilience, and values that have ensured their survival. So too, as you praise the feats of a grand Orc, do the Orcling Thrags looking at his urn do think to be like him, still remembered, still praised by the flame of Mauloch after so long. Almost worship, the spirits and ancestors are viewed side by side, and simultaneous to the present: there is nothing to separate them from Eos beyond a shaman. Guidance, and continuity, are persistent across generations, through the flames, through the spirits, through the ancestors. HOLY CRAFTS Each tool and weapon forged by the Thaug’Maugrim is more than a simple instrument. Crafted within the Hearth of Mauloch’s flame, and blessed by the tribe’s shamans, these items become more than mundane objects. They are extensions of the spirit, of their ancestors, and of Mauloch himself. An axe, more than an axe, becomes a vessel with which to enact Mauloch’s will, just as a smith’s hammer echoes with each swing the creation of the world. There is no separation between a Thrag, and what they create. The frost may claim their bodies, but through these crafts their spirit lives on. LAND AS KIN The Thaug'Maugrim believe that the land itself is an extension of their ancestors, the greatest shard of Creation that there is. They see themselves as caretakers of the land, responsible for its preservation. The frozen tundra, the icy rivers, and the towering mountains are not merely a backdrop to their existence; they are a living, breathing entity that they are inextricably bound to. Each step taken upon the frozen ground is a prayer to the spirits, a recognition of their shared history, and a pledge to protect the land for future generations. To harm the land is to harm themselves, for they are one and the same; all Creation, all shards of the First. Taking without giving will do nothing but harm the hunt, and harm the tribe altogether. SCHOOLING Schooling for the Thaug’Maugrim is a trial by fire, a crucible where young Orclings are forged into strong and capable members of the tribe. It is a harsh and unforgiving education, mirroring the unforgiving landscape they inhabit. Survival in the frozen wastes demands resilience, cunning, and an unbreakable spirit, and the Thaug’Maugrim ensure their youth are instilled with these qualities from their earliest days. The Sacred Hunt is not revered more than any rite for no reason; the Sacred Hunt is revered for it proves, literally, the capacity of any Orcling to prove their mettle and use to society. If you fail at your hunt, fail to muster your brothers, fail to supply yourselves, what good are you to the tribe that needs you to hunt? Elders guide the young, be it through mountain passes where frigid gales batter bones with not enough meat on them, or atop glaciers, where crevasses loom at every false-step, concealed by the snow. They learn the ways of war, honing their skills with axe and spear, preparing to defend their tribe and their sacred land, in absence of any formal schooling. The Orcling learns through knowledge passed down across generations, through sagas told by Mauloch’s hearth, through observation, intuition, and experience. It is the yukar by the Hearth of Mauloch, the rhythmic thrum of their ancestor’s song that embeds each and every word, with each and every tune, into an Orcling’s head, to strengthen. Weakness is not tolerated; each Orcling must prove their worth, their ability to contribute to the tribe’s survival. Those who falter are left behind, for the harsh reality of their existence allows for no sentimentality. Only the strong survive, and only the strongest earn a place among the Thaug’Maugrim. EARNED RIGHT The Thaug’Maugrim have a deep-seated belief that leadership and status must be earned through acts of courage, skill, and dedication. To assume a mantle of leadership amongst the Thaug’Maugrim is not a birthright, nor is it granted by blood. It is a trial of strength, a gauntlet of challenges designed to weed out the weak, the unworthy, and the unproven. Those who rise to these challenges do not claim leadership through force, intimidation or deceit. The Thaug’Maugrim respect strength in all its forms, recognising that true leadership requires more than brute force. Through earned respect of their peers and brothers, demonstration of one’s ability to lead, inspire, and unite, is any semblance of a leader chosen. In truth, there is little hierarchy beyond the castes of the Thaug’Maugrim. In desolation, adaptability is indivisible from survival. Both the will and recognition of each and every Thrag, but so too of the spirits and ancestors through communion alongside Shamans decide he-who-would-be most fit among the Thaug’Maugrim to serve as leader in any given circumstance. Ultimately, the decision of who leads the Thaug’Maugrim rests with the tribe itself. It is a collective judgment, a consensus reached through open discourse by the pyre. Leadership is not a position of privilege: it is a mantle that must be burdened by those who have proven their worth, and who are willing to sacrifice all for the betterment of their people.

[!] A REPLY IS SENT HELLO FELLOW SIR KNIGHT NYGEL. I AM HOLY SER LUCIEN ALDRICSON, KNIGHT OF THE GRAIL, SOLDIER OF THE RADIANT PATH, VANDER-HARRENITE, KNIGHT OF THE HOLY MOTHER CHURCH, KNIGHT OF THE ORDER OF THE WHITE ELEPHANT, GRANDMASTER OF THE DRAKEGUARD OF THE BLESSED BASIL, KNIGHT OF THE ORDER OF THE ETERNAL CRUSADE OF THE MIDLANDS, FORMER KNIGHT OF THE ORDER OF SAINT JUDE. I AM MOST KNIGHTLY, AND MOST TEMPLARIC. MICHAEL'S FLAME BURNS BRIGHT! I AM, DOUBLY, A RENOWNED SPELUNKER!! ASK THE DEMON MARLON... SOMETHING. I SPELUNKED HIM TO DEATH! PLEASE DO CONSIDER ME FOR THIS SPELUNKING EXPEDITION, GOOD SER OF THE FRIARLANDS, LUCIEN

if you could force a full reset on any MA or FA, community, or culture in general, which would it be, why, and what direction would you rather it took?

| Joust Participation | Name: HARRENIEL Nationality: Pontifical States Do you possess a horse? - (Yes/No) Yes [IGN: (nopateoamateo)] | Melee Participation | Name: HARRENIEL Nationality: Pontifical States [IGN: (Insert)] nopateoamateo

Dearest Father Vanderwink of the recently conquered Weirdolands, you are equally quick to pin his kith as wantonly prejudiced as the humble Bon’Ox is to accuse ours. Please forgive my metatransmission beam to translate this message into your higher soul. It is most natural for man to dislike those unlike himself. Perhaps such instinct was instilled by the Lord to prevent the sin of Harreny, to keep the tribes strong, and distinct, but in His infinite wisdom I would rather attribute it rather to an unfortunate fortuitous instrument of the Deceiver: it is in division that the Most Deceiving more easily festers. Skulduggery is the way of Saul, and there is little less honest than to see someone goodly, and wish them, then see them dead; skulduggery is the way of Saul, and Saul was trampled to an unrecognisable husk by his own crowd! To the wicked, let the legions of the Lord strike them down, for these venerable legions should know that if they speak falsehoods, then the Lord, then their own brethren would strike them down! To answer this question then, ‘Why do Uruks of the True Faith so often perish?’, it is due to pride. Pride that shackles Horenite, Malinite, Urguanite, Kruggite all the same. For the Kruggite, who have so redeemed themselves in the prophecy of Horen and Krug’s fulfilment, and overcome their insatiable bloodlust, this was the linchpin upon which murder was made somehow reasonable in their mind: pride. One truth you must doubly observe, however, is that most of these good, passed on Uruks, who have so expelled themselves from the Stargush, have died, to the best of my knowledge, prior to the resumption of virtue of Krug. Of course, there will be a Krugger and many after him to die after, but let this son of Krug die knowing that it matters not who killed him, for in his heart of hearts he knows precisely who: Ibliz. It is The Most Deceiving who would so drive a knight to take life, life most sacred, life most virtuous, life most ridden with strife, who would drive this ser to refuse a son of Krug to near himself to the Lord. It is not by virtue of Man’s carelessness, nor of Krug’s bloodlust which he has so recently overcome by Robertine avenues that Canonist Kruggers fall, but by virtue, or sin rather, of the fallen son of the Lord! You label this piece a Canonist thesis, yet you present your case through a radically inverted lens! You blether of a plethora of different possibilities as to why your kin perish, but favor heathenous worship as first among them. Why? Do the Spirits not favor the Kruggite who converts? If this is so, why would the spirits not levy their wrath onto all Descendantkind who does not feed into their prode? What of the Kruggite who simultaneously pays homage to the Lord and the Spirits, in knowledge of the latter’s ego? In their middling touch on the world, good Krugger, it is not the Spirits that would disfavor these fallen sons of Krug, but the instruments of the Stargush’s will instead. In the same way a holy knight could wield the flame of Owyn so brightly that it burns his eyes of all virtue, and all he knows of the heretic before him is to kill! kill! kill!, it is the uruk who is so guided, who is raised by his people, instructed by his spirits to raise spear and sword on the proselyte Krugger. So too though is it the fault of the Horenson and all those around him! For you have seen the spoils of the Iron’Uzg, you have seen the raid of Caius Primus by this ingrate Klog’Akaal who was at once a herald, voidalist, king, warrior, heathen, and you have seen all this and so you would instruct your sons ‘fear the Krugger!’, and you would not be wrong to be! Yes, fear the Krugger, but fear him infinitely less than which you love him. In overwhelming love you may never feel fear. Look upon Kretzen, where the Ser Varik has been taken as Waldenian, as Reinmaren, and ask yourself, son of Horen: Has he contributed to the degradation of Saint Daniel’s legacy? Of that of the Vander, of that of Aesterwald, of Waldenia? Or look upon Nerium Bishop Idunia, or Father Yellavah, and ask yourself, son of Horen: Has he not served the Church, led by man, and almost only men, with all his spirit maintained piously to save his ilk too? So why would you look upon the Ruthron any different? Did he not die valiantly?! Simultaneous to my response to your question, Bon’Ox, would I issue a harsh admonishment to your Petrine countrymen or wherever this knight that killed your goblinite imp brother hailed from, and any who would stand by and ever permit a society where such action could be thought up without the shame of a million Dewpers suddenly manifesting within one’s mercyflame-lit heart. Hopefully this font is more agreeable with your eyes. I care more for the content of my response than its format. I am, after all, naught but a lowly fleeper priest.

its the third era please use the term 'red tag' or 'red oni'

The knight's father, and the wife's brother, falls to his knees before a rosary of saints. Men more pious, men more virtuous, men more renowned - men who would not have let such a thing to pass. His flock, politicking, sending jeering comments towards the heathen, rather than the mercyflame he had so tried to endow. "Forgive me, Lucien, for all I have done, and all I have yet to do." he murmurs quietly to himself, as he did for so long in Kretzen. Beside him: plate, steel, sword, scripture.

[!] Nailed on Gottenthal, Lemon Hill, and any churches of the True Faith, lay a sprawling scroll for any to read: CHADASHIM A series of personal outlines and commentary on contemporary Lucienism. UPON THE TOPICS OF LUCIENISM, FLAMENISM, THE SACRAMENTS OF THE CHURCH, AND ALL THAT WAS IMPARTED ONTO ME BY MY FATHER, WRITTEN UNDER ENCOURAGEMENT FROM MY FLOCK. FATHER HARRENIEL, SHEPHERD OF THE IVORI, CARETAKER OF THE BLESSED TEMPLE OF SAINT LUCIEN, PRIEST OF THE LINE OF KOHEN FORGIVENESS ‘How can you embody a Lord, who loves and cherishes all of Creation, when you draw for your sword and search for blood before you impart the Lord’s love and wisdom? How can you slay a man which you have not forgiven before? Nay, brethren. As men, it is not our charge to proffer judgment, for the time of judgment comes through the breath of the Lord upon death.’ BLESSED PONTIFEX CAIUS-BRANDT I am no stranger to the sword of Owyn, and how the prophet’s flame may enlighten your heart, embolden you, just as the Saint Archangel Michael may. I remind all of my flock, and all of my brothers beneath the grail of Saint Lucien, that as I serve my order now, I served my order then. It is a grand privilege, to serve, and to die for the Lord. There are many times where I thought I would, but He thought it different. Of course, when He is so present in all that is within your life, when you have no wife, no child to take heed of, no flock to tend to, no home to return to, no bed to sleep in, no pillow to lay your head on, and all you have is the blade in your hand and the saracen before you, I am not astonished by your prevalence to violence, or rather, our, for it is a fault that I too succumb to. Upon my first arrival along the King’s Road, when I erred so heavily, and upbraided royals, and thought my pride served as the Lord did, to shield and protect me, for surely I could not be wrong! and all those that doubted me, of course, were merely wrong themselves, I had, promptly, fallen into a duel with a knight of grand regard. A knight, that even now, holds an urn of our Blessed remembered’s remains, as Cardinal Ailred Druzstra once did. So, I remember, that one faithful Lucienist, one so faithful that he sook to restore the order not through chapter, but through name proper in the Midlands - mine first order - took to lashing himself. He appealed to the lord, thus: ‘Forgive him, father! Forgive him, for he knows not better!’ LAYMAN CANONIUS May the Lord guide you, wherever you may be, brother-once. Then promptly lashed himself, again, and again, and again. It is, of course, virtuous, to offer oneself as another: it is the greatest generosity we can offer. But what good does it do? Should the Lord look upon the youth who blaspheme, swear, utter all vile utterances there are to utter, and think, in all His mercy, that it is fair, then, for the elderly priestly man to lash himself? Should the Lord forgive them moreso, even though He already has, for he is all-loving and all-merciful, because I leave these wounds in mine own skin? I would think not. My father, too, would think not, for upon the conclusion of my golus and that encroachment of my Sin-tainted soul unto the Ruach Ha’Kodesh, that tainted tincture that I did prickle onto the mercyflame, I thought to do the same. I wandered, an acolyte, still, of course, and a churchly man, for only the Lord did save me, and keep me in sustenance of faith, rather than food, or worldly licit things, and gathered penitents. I gathered them, advised them, counselled them to seek more priestly men, better men than myself, and so I shepherded them to Lemon Hill. And there, I had them undertake the rite of emundatio as did the Lectormen so long ago. At their conclusion, though, I still felt their Sin. I felt it heavy upon me, and I felt, as if I was interpreter of the Lord, as if I had reached my devekut enlightenment and looked and bathed in the warmth of Him, and thusly I burnt His holy symbol into my nape. I collapsed, and I awoke to the sight of my father, who looked at me distraught. For, yes, the idea, the intent, it is oh-so-virtuous, oh so flepirly, you are innocent, you show chesed-mercy beyond that of any of your flock, you are beautiful, my son, but, what good does it bring? You are nearer to the Lord, but the penitents are not! So, to the self-flagellator, would I say, take not the lash upon yourself, but throw it to the floor! You should rather take to them your word, your arm, and offer it to them, clasp them on the shoulder and say, “Fret not, for I am here, and I will listen, and as I listen, and I am here, so too is the Lord here with us, and so too does he listen, for no word spoken is a word hidden from the Lord.” Of course, you mustn't do so so verbosely, but should such a need come to pass, as the venerable Father Paco did once instruct us, it is upon the foundation, scripture, and guidance of our predecessors that we near the Lord and His kingdom, one generation upon the next painted on the Tapestry of Man. Just as you should not lash yourself, then, should you not bring your flaming sword upon the heretic, the pagan, the Shade, even! I do not advocate for the total docility of the Mother Church and her venerable soldiers and army, but rather, an appeal to the chesed mercy in us all. We may be born of Sin, but it is not our obligation to remain there. The Blessed Pontifex Caius-Brandt did bring this concept of the ‘Elect’, those chosen among us, by chance, through His favor, to be naturally closer to the Lord, but this is one I must unequivocally rebuke! We are all borne of sin, for Ibliz cursed us all. It is through the overcoming of this collective Sin, through the tenfold virtue that I must encourage and instil upon all my flock and so hope in writing this instil upon all who read, that we may distance ourselves, and our souls, from the Void, and near ourselves to the eternal throne of virtue that is the Lord. So, the born sinner, for instance, the laity who is born out of the fold of Canondom, who is raised in Nornish solitude with not a whisper of the Lord and his servants reaching him, when he comes to you, Canonist, why would you strike him down for his Sin of merely being? You would raise your sword against the raider, and not your tongue? Even the most banditrous of bandits can be tamed, and if not tamed, reasoned with. We are all men, all us of Horen, and we are all gifted with the life, with the self agency and the yechidah within us, even if it should so sleep within the Norn, is in us all the same, we are unity, we are one. It is not through cleaving his head from his shoulders that we awaken the heathen’s binah, but from breaking bread with him, offering him all we can, giving him all we can, in hopes that we may awaken it within him. The gates, sons of Horen, are closed. We hold the key, and we must open them anew, but I ask you: is it the warrior, or the priest, who will more likely lose his hand? What good is a sword to a closed gate? ADMISSION OF GUILT There is no greater thing for man to do than admit he has wronged others. I steadfastly must agree with this, no matter how embedded, or unbased it may be in virtue. No man is above sin. To admit one's sin to a cleric is the first step, from sin, to being welcomed once more into the loving fray of the Mother Church. It represents all that a man should be before the Lord: humble. You are not He, you are not better, you are flawed and sinful. As you are flawed and sinful, you must recognise your flaws, and your sins, and confess them so that you may better yourself. In bettering yourself so can you near yourself to the Lord. It is in the shade of the tree of pride that Saulican whispers eat and devour. It is the disgraced tainted fruit of virtue that falls upon the floor, and sweetens, as we expose it to all indecencies. There, and in that fruit, where it sweetens sickly, do the grubs of Ibliz work their way into virtue. And though the fruit of virtue does not rot, and it does not decay, and it is eternal, as it is the role of shepherd to tend to his flock, so too is it the role of layman to tend to his orchard. So when the layman looks upon his grove and sees the leaves withering, and the fruit swelling, and does not act, he obfuscates. It is in this sloth that Ibliz strikes. When the layman sees this, and he says, craning his neck and humbling himself in genuflexion before the Lord; “Lord, forgive me, I have been taken victim by sloth!” Doth the Lord forgive. If you have Sinned, stolen from my house and my flock and my person, how am I to know you have sinned? How am I to forgive you for a crime I know you not to have made? And though the Lord has seen that you have sinned, and he has forgiven, for he is all-merciful, and all-knowing, it is through the servants of the lord who have taken the vocation of twin priests Evaristus and Clement, in the line of Kohen, that assign you your penance. They assign you the penance the line of Kohen, who were entrusted themselves by the first Son of Spirit with prudence and all diligence, would have so assigned to you as well. It is through this penance that you humble yourself, and mark yourself as a son of virtue, as you were born. We are all born with the curse Ibliz placed upon us, but it is our duty, as I have said countless times, to overcome it. It is our duty to be virtuous, so it is the duty of the layman to preach, and of the priest to labor. I am evidently a fierce advocate for the redemption and penance of the soul and spirit. Likewise, though, am I an avid admirer of the licit, worldly benefits of confession. To confess your crimes, and know that you have done wrong, to your own ego, rights that wrong. You have recognised the pattern is flawed, that one tree in your grove withers: you have dug out the roots to expose to His light all that festers down beneath. So, even if the tree still withers above the ground, for you have not done your penance, by confessing you take your first step toward it. You ease your own conscience by mere admission. You seek forgiveness in confession. It was the opinion of the Lectorate, or rather of their laymen, that the duty of a lector to a penitent was to guide them, and take an active role in their confession and penance. I am not an instrument, nor determiner, of the Lord’s justice. I cannot possibly ever claim to be, for all that can ever be ascertained from the prophets are their words, verbatim. In admission, you expel your fears, and the sinful shackle Ibliz has wrought round your ankle nonconsensually. You demonstrate, both to the Lord, and to your peers that you wish to do better. You acknowledge you have done wrong unto the world and Creation, and so you tell Creation, ‘take me, take me, I am changed!’ and so He takes you, and we take you as His sons. DIFFERENCE OF SECT Long have Owynists critiqued Sigismundites and the Ruskan Orthodox for accepting Siegmund as a fourth Exalted, and this is, by all means, the most defining differentiator between the two most populous sects: Owynism and Orthodox Canonism. However, Owynism did not stem exclusively from this idea, and I would argue, rather, even if non-chronologically, evolved from Flamenist ideals. Chief among these, then, that virtue should be upheld and sin dispelled not merely through prayer and utterances, but rather action. So, then, when the Orenian emperors attempted to render the Church a tool of their will and make the laurel and horn one once more, it was regrettably Owynists who led this charge. The degree to which they can by modern, and by Lectormonk, standards be called Owynist is debatable, but they titled themselves such with overwhelming belief in caesaropapism. Of course, this was all a result of politicking, and the Darfeyists, more apt a name for them, quickly fell off as soon as they came to be. Rather, Owynism and Lucienism split off at an impasse from this action-oriented interpretation of the Scripture. Owynism promotes “proactive and militant approaches to combating threats to the faith and flock by any means necessary”. Lucienism, its namesake being a Pontiff himself and originating from holy ordermen, focuses rather on the ideal of papal infallibility. That the pontifex, as he is anointed by the college of cardinals, cannot err, and thus his will is absolute and resolute and to defy it is to defy virtue. Again, though, the traditional flock of either sect plays a large role in how their dogma may be perceived today. The Order of Saint Lucien, in most if not all of its iterations, was, and is, renowned for a reputation of Horenic superiority. Where both sects should agree and differ solely on their application of the law of Virtue given unto Horen, we see a distinct disconnect between them in organisation and application. Lucienism thrived, almost entirely, in the keeps of Lucienist orders, and in the cities they were in, where contemporary Owynism thrived first as a defiant force against their Darfeyists once-kin in the Church of True Faith, relying on missionary work and being largely, more successful in spreading their ideology and interpretation over the other. This became especially true with the fall of the Chivays from imperial purple, and the rise of the Lectorate. And so as Lucienism evolves once more, with my flock, with my brothers-in-arms beneath the Grail and the Saint-Messenger Raguel, would I say the dogma has shifted defiantly against its predecessor. Where both Owynism and Lucienism were split from the Flamentree and grafted onto their own, would I now plant the sapling seed of Lucien of Ulmsbottom nearer to Flamenism once more. There is, of course, never going to be a definitive time where I can point and say, “Here, here! This is where we changed!” but rather I believe the repeated stagnation of Lucienist orders has staunched, to an extent, the Owynfire in us all. So, in short, to sum all that has been said and all I will say, the difference between the Lucienism of yore and mine own interpretation that I would teach unto my flock and acolytes is thus: first, rejection of the revionist, Daniel-burdened Virosi scrolls; second, to live always in penance above all else; third, utter devotion and faith in the Lord and his vicar; fifth, proselytisation, confession, and forgiveness; sixth, to live by the septalogue delivered unto Hoten as law, and law of virtue, for the fruit of virtue is unyielding and does not rot; and seventh, worship and enlightenment in all ten aspects of His Light, the Ruach Ha’Kodesh. I think it is only natural for a faith to evolve with her people, even if it does not change, and is constant, so paradoxically true. THE TEN EMANATIONS Solitude, hermitage, humility and flepirhood do well to distance man from the Void. You are so long restricted from all your worldly urges and ambitions to enjoy only what you have before you, behind you, below you, but most of all, above. Read this at your own peril of being led astray, for none below has been corroborated, and all is my own interpretation of what I see. All the same, I know what I saw: Saint Tylos’ Chariot, but upon it, no saint, but an infinite light so blinding it rendered the day black, and ice at once to melt and pool in my cell. An immaculate conception of faces upon faces and wheels upon wheels, all below a throne that was both above and below, all encompassing, and infinitely light and good. For in the chariot, I saw the three aspects of the Lord: the upper, the living, the lower. The upper, in His infinity, His wisdom, His understanding that so wholly swallowed the night. The living, in His chimeric machinations of all life simultaneous, all that is mortal, in His mercy, His strength, oh how He was strong!, and in His beauty, for all life was one for all but a moment. The lower, that which He shows us most, His eternal victory over the Deceiver, His glory, which shone so brilliantly, His foundation, his bridge betwixt spirit and man, and that last, His kingdom, the culmination of all that above it, which even far from the Lord as it was, was so much closer than I’ve ever been. In a great flash of lightning did the chariot appear, and just as quickly as it came and my eyes were blessed so, it went, but it did not! It went not, for it was all around, His infinity, His wisdom, His understanding, His strength, His mercy, His beauty, His glory, His foundation: all to His kingdom. It was for only a moment that I felt my higher souls touch and pull me upward in devekut enlightenment to see closer to the Lord, but it is all I needed to remain flepirly. And so it is in emulation of these emanations of the Lord that I yearn to achieve devekut as I did then, whether it be in relentless mercy, relentless awe, splendor, all I must to take His chariot and be nearer to Him. So similarly do I believe the prophets may have seen in the same way: it was they who saw His strength in Owyn’s sword, they who saw His mercy in forgiving Godfrey, they who saw His beauty in Horen’s pilgrimage and the tabernacle. Thus is why Flamenism persists at all! In dedication to our virtue and study and vigorous goodness can we align the microcosm that is our souls within his Kingdom closer to the ladder that lets them ascend to the Skies, and join Him in Ein Sof, these DECACHADASH emanations of His light that we can pray to approach ourselves to Him with. BALANCE; JUSTICE AND FORGIVENESS The Lord’s justice is that which we as man cannot judge, but only interpret; the septalogue delivered unto Horen is His most Holy law, and so this is what we must follow. Thusly, it is not the place of Man, or even Church, in my opinion, to judge other Man, and particularly not steal from Man the gift of life that the Lord did give. Death is a last resort. The first to consider, though, is the capacity of the layman to admit, and seek forgiveness. Should a layman be so corrupted, cursed, tainted, that they cannot even see how they err and the Sin that pulls at them, then there is no greater justice than to delegate to the Lord. But wait, my son, wait, for patience and prudence are virtues as the Lord did tell unto Horen, and there is no greater injustice than to steal the gift of life that the Lord did give. Punishment, especially that which is unjust, acts only as an impetus for reflection and a return to virtue. You would rather radicalise the sinborne man than make him taste the fruit of virtue. There are such cases where sin is so severe that to punish and rebuke their malefactor is inevitable. Such heinous sins; harming a cleric; falsifying miracles; bastardising sacraments; the murder of the innocent; warrant punishment, yes. All the same, redemption is possible. Should they refuse their penance, should they repeat their error, should their sin be so severe, so hurtful to the flock, that one lamb must be sacrificed in paschal humility, then so be it: there is justice there, then, in preventing the further spread of injustice, and allowing the Lord to make His final judgement. This is only in the case that the threat is real, and the penitent ignorant! More benevolent is the ability of a chesed-blessed flepir flock to forgive. To not call for death where there has been death, and defy, even if the sinner himself has defied it, the will of the Lord for the sinner to be granted life. Exile, monastic vows, disablement: countless, countless alternatives to robbing a man of life. Life is sacred, in all its faces, such is the message imparted by His beauty. I return to this malevolent lamb. He who eats all the yellowing pastures, so that they may never turn green, he who would shove and pull and bite their fellow lamb in a bid to eat first, he who murders. It is the duty of the faithful to protect the flock, community. You protect your fellow man, I protect you, against the injustice and corruption spilt upon this world by the first Sin. If this lamb’s actions would threaten the flock, that the threat is so real, tangible, imminent even, then it is the unfortunate necessity of the mass to expunge the wrongdoer, the dissident. Be it a dangerous necrophage, or a tyrant, it is the duty of the flock to act all the same. I do not call for inaction and docility, again, I call for open minds. I call for open hearts. I call for forgiveness, but most of all, I call for CHESED-MERCY. Even the most grievous sinner can be led to His Light through kindness and generosity. All the same, there are times, there are cases, where justice and punishment toward the few are necessary to uphold the virtue of the many. It is only through the collective virtue of the flock that the sinner is granted a route to redemption to begin with: this is what we must safeguard, and hold dearest to ourselves. I return, again, to this malevolent lamb. Shall we say he is a tyrant, a murderer, a voidalist, a blasphemer? He is whatever we make him to be, so long as we know that we, the flock, are merciful and virtue, and he is Sin. The Creator forgives those who keeps His commandments, but equally, He punishes those who do not. Forgiveness from the flock does not absolve the sinner of the consequences of their actions. Even if through penance and redemption, the sinner takes five steps closer to the Lord, he has still bathed four steps in the viscera of the Void. For this, he must be apprehended! We must first acknowledge the severity of the crime. Has it harmed the spirit of the flock? Has it harmed the body? Has it harmed the possessions? In such an order should crimes be judged: spirit, body, possession. In the case our sinner has attacked a Kohen, and in doing so attacked our Lord Himself, this is a most grave Sin. It is an attack of Spirit, not only on the flock, but on the Lord awhole. Has he killed several of our flock in mass homicide? In doing so, he has, yes, attacked the body, but so too has he attacked spirit!: murder is a profound violation of the Lord’s creation, and the sanctity of life He granted. My sons must grapple with the gravity of sin before any penance can be admitted, and any forgiveness made. Second, we must acknowledge the intent and mind of the sinner both during, and following his act. Forgiveness can only ever be granted when the perpetrator genuinely, wholly repents for their actions. They must admit their guilt, show remorse, admonish their act, and more importantly, themselves. There must be a willingness to make amends. Do you throw the drunkard in jail because he is drunk, or because you know he will be sobered and regretful the next morning, when the Lord’s light scalds his eyes, and pounds his head? The drunkard may not be a willing penitent, for the Lord decides for him there, but your sinner must be. True forgiveness cannot be achieved without a willingness to change and seek atonement. It is difficult, my sons, I am well aware, to forgive a man who may have taken so much from you. But you must gather empathy and show virtue, to serve as a stable, strong hand to lift the sinner from the depths of Ibliz. It is your duty to try utmost to understand your sinner, so long as he is your fellow man. Why would you forgive, if you thought him inhuman? Was his act driven by desperation, madness, ignorance? Misguided righteousness? Such questions you must ask of yourself, so you avoid Sin, and of the sinner, so you may understand how he fell to it and forgive Forgiveness, though, does not preclude justice. Even with forgiveness, appropriate punishment must be in place to usher in and maintain the sanctity of His law and deter any future fall to Sin. His Justice, though, is not one of vengeance and castigation, but one of rehabilitation, of protecting the flock altogether. The sinner has this innate potential for redemption and virtue by their being a man. Your forgiveness, my son, is the very testament we must demonstrate towards the infinite power of the mercyflame to transform even the most hardened, cold, sin-hurt heart. ON SACRAMENT I have noted a worrying decrease in practice of our Mother Church’s sacraments. I believe these were key aspects of fostering community, both within a flock, and between its shepherds. To gather to exult the virtue of your neighbour gives more motivation than any grand act of selflessness. You see him, he is like you, and he has neared closer and closer to the Lord. Why not be happy? I see baptism as more than symbolic. I long for her return, and lament the departure of my sister Clover, for she inspired so much of my work, and action, by sheer virtue of being closer to my father than I. For, when I was but a middling orderman in the Midlands, it was Clover that I saw baptised by the grail of Saint Lucien that I so solemnly swear myself to as a brother today! She was but a child then, a vagabond, ‘street-folk’, but she had been taken in by a true man of virtue, and she had changed. And you could see she had changed. Her baptism was not only a welcoming, it was a transformation. She entered homeless, thrown to the roads, and left with the Most Almighty as father. I do not believe outlining strict regulations for priests to follow is rather conducive to good faith, nor do I have any priests to guide such, but baptism should be preceded and succeeded by this intense reflection. You should not be welcomed into the Mother Church if you are led awry, or forced at blade’s edge to do so! Your relation with the Lord is personal, let no knight in impenetrable plate oblige you to act on it instantaneously. Baptism is cleansing. It is your mikveh, your bath in which you bathe in virtue, and shed off the innate curses Ibliz tried to desperately to hex upon the Horenite race and his brothers. Similarly, I see an odd, higher-soul imposed anachronism of confessionals as private. Why should they be private? If you are truly sorry, and you feel shame, then let us show us how ashamed we are of you! You are right to feel shame, for Sin is shameful! Take accountability, examine yourself. It is not through the utterance ‘father forgive me for I have sinned’ that your father must forgive you! Do you really wish to be forgiven, or do you just wish for the consequences of your sin to be waved away at no more cost than telling a single man? No teshuvah is ever realised through merely coming and going, coming and going and talking before your priest again, and again, and again every time you sin. No! Tell your family, tell your neighbours, tell all your flock in mass you have Sinned, and let the flock, in their collective virtue and righteousness elevate you from ever falling so low again! Yes, the priest may assign you penance, yes he may hear you in private, yes he may love you, but let your flock love you even more! Inspire the same teshuvah-repentance in others that you wish your priest to assign unto you! All Sin has a root. Of course, the root of all roots is Ibliz, but we know roots tangle, knot themselves, so one root may shoot from another. It is your duty, as it is your duty to live in virtue, to find and burn this Sin! You will find sin, you will find why you have sinned, and you will tell your father and your flock exactly how you will make sure you never make such sin again. Is this not more useful than simply going to an old man, who has passed one test, written one thesis, appealed to one bishop for appointment, and having only him hold you accountable? You are accountable for yourself. Your flock is accountable for you. Your shepherd is accountable for you. But remember what came first: you are accountable for yourself! You must not only seek forgiveness in confession, but seek transformation? What good is it if I forgive you, my son, and then you go and sin the next morning? None! No good at all. On the topic of steering clear of sin, I find the sacrament of marriage quite well maintained. Yes, there were scandalous talks of bastardry and adultery among the Alstions - when have their not been - but the talk of the noble few dozen is infinitely louder than the talk of the common many, while the virtue of the many drowns out the sin of the few. I was married quite humbly to my wife, before her disappearance, with no grand ceremony or celebrations. I do not think this has to be an example. Enjoy your wedding and your wife as you will, in due moderation! But, just as I advocate so loudly for the accountability of an individual, so too do you become accountable for both the very pact you make with your spouse, but also your spouse themselves. Let my sons be married as they wish, but I would think it wiser with ketubah - with your responsibilities and commitments to each other and the tabernacle family you wish to imitate clearly outlined. Should you break them, then, let your whole flock hold you accountable as OATHBREAKER! I do think the lack, furthermore, of inspired service and charity within our modern faith quite concerning. I look auspiciously upon the Balianite donation drives, and the continued missionary work of various Mont-Limontine acolytes, but it is not enough. I still see suffering. I still see starving, poverty, blasphemy, and it is your duty, as it is your duty to perform virtue, to share your chesed with the world. Give your gold to your neighbour, give your food to your urchin, and give your spirit to your apostate. Show your commitment to the Lord, and in doing so, let Him ignite, stoke the mercyflame in your heart. You will look upon the horrid state of the world in all its plights, and you will not say ‘woe! woe! we are doomed!’, but rather, ‘Lo, sinner, I have brought you gold, I have brought you sustenance, I have brought you spirit!’ CONCLUDING REMARKS I would only ask of you, my son, one thing. Not to follow, not to preach, not to listen, but to hear my words. Hear them, do with them what you will, find your truth, and should you be so filled with zeal that you think mine worse, lesser, an imperfect fashion of worship, then come to Gottenthal and ask for me. Or, better yet, should you be even more zealous, preach. It is our duty as devout Canonists to live in imitation of the Exalted, and through Owyn’s covenants, it is us who have taken the Lord’s prophecy. It is us who were entrusted with spreading it, so spread it. Venture forth, face persecution, have steel flaunted in your face, but preach the true faith! There is no greater satisfaction to me than proselytisation. I look upon the face of a once-skeptic, once-non-believer, once-heathen, once-heretic even, and I see my son, and so I love all my sons. I hope the Lord’s love and mercy can come to warm the world ten times over, each for one of His ten faces. FATHER HARRENIEL, SHEPHERD OF THE IVORI, CARETAKER OF THE BLESSED TEMPLE OF SAINT LUCIEN, PRIEST OF THE LINE OF KOHEN 🙂