Old Man Boiendl

September 10, 2018

The thing you did wrong here was giving him your number.

Obviously implying that not only are you a homosexual but you are also into him.

If he is really wanting to go the mile with you he will send you a text message asking to reciprocate the relationship.

Maybe next time dont be a homosexual it may work better.

June 18, 2018

-1, I don’t believe he has the right philosophy for the AT Team after reading what was posted by him in regards to needing a more rigorous application.

It is important to realize we don’t need to be an exclusive community and as long as the applications filter out those who are brain dead and aren’t truly interested then we’re fine.

Player quanity is more important at this stage. Players will mature and evolve their RP will improve we don’t need amazing RPers from the get go.

June 4, 2018

-snip-

July 10, 2017

-1. He's a bit off. I do not think he would be able to work cooperatively with the Staff and many members of LOTC. He is very strong-headed and often only listens to himself. I would not support him for any staff position. His ego is bigger than his grandiose schemes.

June 25, 2017

(this is something I was asked to write by ThatPyroDude. I figured why not. As always I have too much free time on my hands.)

Read it Here: https://docs.google.com/document/d/1t1tkahu1uY6JrZuq0BfCfMiYK3Em9v4qgGDDU2Yjvx4/edit?usp=sharing

The Third Son

By Crown Prince William James Horen I

I.

Spoiler

In the heat of an unusually warm Malin’s Welcome, and in the middle of the afternoon, a boy sets himself down in a chair beside a fountain. Given brown hair with a red tinge by his parents, the boy was average in height and size. His stature was not the larger than life build of those who came before him. In the company of rose bushes and the pitter-patter of the fountain he shuts his young eyes and dreams. As his mind wanders and he inhales the smells of the Palace garden, visions of adventure, great battles and magnificent voyages flash before his eyes. Dreams of leaving the Capital and joining his youthful companions on tales that would stretch for generations encapsulated him.

His boyhood aspirations were reinforced by his upbringing. Put in the tutelage of some of the brightest minds that the Empire had to offer, the boy grew as a young scholar and apt statesman. But still, he longed for a different life. He wanted to live a hero's life. As the third born son he was never meant to live the life he did. He was not meant to be Emperor. Unbeknownst to him at the time, he would fall victim to fate and lead a life he was not prepared to lead.

Nearly two decades later, the boy now man returned to the place he sat so long ago. Emperor Philip Frederick the First looked towards the fountain and like when he was a boy his mind wandered with the jubilant thoughts of adventure and escape. Though now ruler of much of the earth, he still did not rule his own fate. Nor did he have time to dream like he did in youth. His hair now flexen, discolored through years of stress and uncertainty. Despite his appearance he was still young. What had spurred his visit to his boyhood retreat was a series of events unfolding that he had little control over. The eyes of the Emperors before him bore down on him.

A feeling gripped his gut, twisting it and making it a knot. The feeling which was spurred on by his Minister of Interior, Edmond Manston and other advisors was the result of a brazen response to an entourage of ne'er do wells so bold and brazen as to betray his trust and in doing so the Empire. As punishment and to make an example to the other traitors, Philip had their heads meet the floor of the Palace throne room and to fill the cracks and crevices of the palace with a red flood.

With a heavy sigh, Philip turned from his boyhood ambitions and again passed the threshold of the Palace Garden, into the Throne Room where he was met by a frenzy of advisors and war planners.

II.

Spoiler

Sitting in the Imperial Throne, Philip looked over those who came to petition him. The crowd that gathered was usually minor nobility, the sort who came to his feet to plead for more land or more wealth. The sun filtered in through the glass panes that depicted the victories hard fought by the rulers before him. The panes gave the light a multi-colored hue as it danced on the floor of the throne room.

Outside the Palace, the City of Johannesburg which grazed the clouds with its spires and Cathedral was becoming ever more busy. Gripped with the events that had occurred a mere fortnight before, the City now ran rampant with rumours of an exile returning to Tahn. As the rumor spread like wild-fire, the populace only became more restless. Be it true townsfolk or foreigners under the guise of the Citizenry, rioters began to gather frequently outside the Imperial Legion Garrison. It became a common sight to see man pushing man, flesh against flesh in a street battle to keep the crowds back from storming the garrison.

A courier, laden in brown raced into the Capital. From the High Walled Gate he passed the Garrison struggling with the rioters. Past the Royal Gull he went and made his way through the exuberant noble district. Up the grand stairs of the Palace and soon barging into the Throne room, the courier held high a letter from the Grand Duke of Lorraine.

“A missive from Metz, your Imperial Majesty, sent with much urgency!” The Courier gasped, he stumbled over to the throne and handed the letter to a guard who then gave it to the Emperor.

Taking the letter, Philip opened it. He looked it over, his eyes widened and the letter fell to the ground. He rose from the throne. His gaze burdened the shoulders of those who were near him.

“Leave the throne room at once, save for my commanders and administrators!” Philip boomed, his voice carried through the hall, reverberating off of the high ceilings and wooden floor. In moments the throne room was vacant of the lower ranks.

Philip turned to those who remained, Arch Chancellor Leopold I, Minister of the Interior Edmond Manston, whoever led the armies, and another guy why not.

“Here in my hand is a missive from Metz which means to inform me of a rebellion knocking at my door… Who is it that so dares to unsheathe their blade at our armies you might wonder? A foolish man you would answer. But of course, for he shall meet my sword on the field. I shan’t leave you in suspense much longer… for I am sure Mister Manston here wishes to get back to his papers. The man who so rises against the crown is no other than a Staunton, Tobias Staunton.” Philip waded the letter up and tossed it onto the floor, he spat in its direction.

“Look here, the Empire now has stood for too long to fall to an impish schemer, and it shan’t fall under my watch. Send a regiment out to Metz, hunt down this Staunton at once.”

The men before Philip all nodded, it was Leopold the First, Archchancellor of the Empire who was first to speak.

“Our forces will put down the rebellion within a month’s time. From my fortress in the Westerlands, I do not see much of a threat arising from those who scheme against you, your Imperial Majesty. Nevertheless I will commit myself to removing the scourge and impurity from them.”

“Very well. Be off then, all of you. The Empire must be cared for like you would a child.” Philip replied as he reclined in his throne. His gaze shifted to the doors as the small gathering filtered out. Lost in his thoughts he rehearsed battle plan after battle plan and began to make mental notes of those whom he may need the aid of. Trouble had always seemed to find its way into the hallowed halls of the Empire. The malcontents were always plotting, they called upon the youth who while imbued with great spirit and vigor, lacked wisdom and foresight. Such is the beginning of a rebellion, the sly making use of the spirited.

III.

Spoiler

Like ants whose colony is under attack, the Legionnaires of the Imperial Legion sprung into action. In a few short hours, posters that exclaimed “Defend your Emperor! Join the Legion!” were pasted on the walls of buildings. Damage and other weaknesses in the great walls were quickly patched and in a renewed vigor the Legionnaires went about their business. Rebels were evicted promptly and all those with a shifty and inciteful gaze were stopped for questioning.

The residents of Johannesburg felt the loom of Civil War cast its foreboding gaze down onto them. Not long after the Courier had gone through the streets and to the Emperor had the Capital’s citizenry begin taking sides and pitting themselves against one another in the tavern. On an average evening in the Royal Gulle, one may hear shouts of Ave Orenia! And in the same conversation shouts calling for world not ruled by a single man.

Those who felt close to their fellow countrymen made haste to the nearest recruiting station. Soon all those who were able-bodied and willing to fight were in the black and purple attire of the Legion. They stood at attention, ready to be a bulwark against an incoming force.

Days after the initial readiness of Johannesburg, the first reports of clashes began to flood the streets. Those who took up arms against humanity had launched several surprise attacks on Orenian settlements in Lorraine. Men returned to the Capital, bloodied and tired. All those who returned had a gaze that could pierce even the thickest armor.

The attacks from the vagrants who claim rebellion intensified. At times the rebellion would pierce the defenses of the Heartland and make brazen attacks on the Imperial Capital. Citizenry would flee, hide in their homes. The Imperial Army which was already spread thin repelled the attacks, but not before taking significant losses.

So was the beginning of a short and unfortunate war. One that would divide families and split people. And so was the beginning of a war that would seal the fate of a boy turned Emperor.

IV.

Spoiler

On a cool evening, when the thought of battle loomed most heavily. The Emperor who stood on the balcony of his war room looked confidently into the night, out over his capital. He drummed the railing before turning on his feet and making his way back to the maps and reports that littered a large table. Around him was Leopold and Sir Mattington von Ironsword

Clad in his Legionnaire armor, von Ironsword pointed towards the Northern most mountains. The snow capped mountains were home to the dwarves, an industrial race of half-men.

“Mount Gorgon, your Imperial Majesty. The Kingdom of Urugan has aligned itself with Rebel groups. It is best that we march on the Dwarves so that they can not assist the rebels in waging war.” Mattington shook his head, he sighed slightly before looking to Leopold I

“Leave it to those who would see that Humanity fractures and dissipates to align themselves with non-humans. The Dwarves are a race of half-wits and imps. Both growth and intelligence is stunted. We will march on them swiftly.” Leopold slammed his fist down on the table, and then turned to Philip

Philip looked towards the men gathered around the table, he nods to them, “Easy now Leopold. We shall march. We will take no prisoners and show them no mercy. It will be a swift battle. Prepare my baggage train and mobilize, we shall take the Mount within the fortnight!” Turning on his feet he marches out of the war room and into his quarters. The night would pass quickly and in the morning he would march.

The Mountain of Gorgon stood tall over its fellow Mountains. The white caps of the Mountain reflected the sun’s bright rays down onto the faces of the Legionnaires who marched to a monotonous drum beat. The cold air blew snow into the faces of the men, trudging onwards, some soldiers collapsed from the cold. Infront of the long train of soldiers was the Emperor. Mounted on his horse Whatever its name is he held his head high as the Army went forward.

VI.

Spoiler

On a day where the sun was hidden by the grey clouds and the breeze blew the hair of men and women alike into their faces. The Legions of the Imperium marched solemnly back into the Capital of the Holy Orenian Empire. Unlike the army that marched from the capital a mere fortnight ago, these men returned in rags, a tattered flag of the Empire fluttered in the breeze. The citizenry of Johannesburg peered from the windows of their shelters and those who were brave watched from the streets. Rumours spread through the citizens and then through the ranks. It was the first battle the Empire had lost in decades.

The sunken face of Philip glanced to those who went onto the streets to watch. He glanced at them for only a moment before turning away. As the Emperor passed through the Arc and into the noble district, he felt the burden of the Empire weigh on him. The nobility would not accept the loss.

Back in the Throne Room Philip returned to his throne. His head in his palm he looked to his advisors, Leopold and his entourage of Westerlanders were silent.

“How?” Philip muttered “Well! How?” he shouted, making eye contact with Leopold.

Leopold took a step back, unfamiliar with the tone of the Emperor he stayed the hand of some of his men. “It was a fluke. The mountains proved more burdensome to our supply train than was first anticipated. We wi-”

“We will not allow this to happen again!” Philip shouted, cutting Leopold off. “Be gone…” he said quietly

“Yes, your Imperial Majesty. Come men.” The Archchancellor glanced to his entourage and left the Emperor, leaving him to wallow in his own defeat.

Philip was left alone. It was not a rare occurrence for this sense of loneliness. As the third son of Emperor John the Third, he was often left to his own devices. Left to meander through the gardens and empty palace halls. His brothers were charioted away often by his father, to be squired and educated in preparation for running the Empire.

The grey clouds which haunted the Army as they returned to the city grew darker and soon rain fell, battering the window like swords against shields. The Throne room in its emptiness carried a draft which brought with it a stale air. Philip sat on his throne staring at the doorway into the throneroom.

Philip who continued to stare at the doorway began to shout, “God hear me, as your messenger to the masses and guardian of Humanity. Strike me down! Smite me where I stand or send an assassin through the door in front of me!”

The night was dark. The thundering clouds blocked out the glow of the moon and stars. The howling winds and branches against windows brought the sound of battle to Philip and his army. Sleep did not come easy to those who suffered at the hands of fate. Philip was seen wandering the Palace halls, staring at the portraits of his ancestors, lost in his own despair.

VII.

Spoiler

Emerging from his Palace several days after his return, Philip surrounded by his entourage descended the Palace steps and marched into the City. The weather had lifted but the Earth had cooled significantly. Now at the beginning of [fall], the leaves began to change color, the harvest from the golden wheat fields was beginning to flow into the Capital.

The Emperor and his entourage from the noble district moved into the main square. Like the sound of a slight breeze rustling up against one, whispers and rumors were abound.

“He’s paranoid… “

“What will happen to the Empire?”

“The Rebels are advancing…”

Rumors within Johannesburg moved like rooftop fires. Spreading quickly from building to building, ear to ear. Small whispers grow into roaring shouts. A voice from the crowd shouts out,

“He’s doomed the Empire! Down with him!”

A rotten tomato then flew out from the crowd and landed on one of the guards. The crowd erupted in cheers and soon rotten food was flying at the Emperor and his guards. A shadow moved within the crowd, snaking its way through the citizenry and to the front. From the middle of his entourage, Philip spotted the glint of the sun in the eye of the shadowy figure.

“Assassin!” Philip shouted out, “Get him!”

The entourage began to retreat from the town square. A few guards moved from the group and into the crowd to try and apprehend the accused. But the would-be assassin slipped through the clutches of the Imperial forces. Moving swiftly through the crowd the assassin made his way far into the city, hidden by the filth of the city.

The Emperor moved back into the Palace. His heart racing, sweat beading on his forehead, he leaned against a wall of his throne room. It was not the first attempt on his life, but to come now, where hope runs low and tensions are high, the assassin could have been hired by anyone.

Philip looked to his head Nauzican, “Who was it, who sent the assassin? House de Savoie? The Church? Who?!”

“Unfortunately your Imperial Majesty, we failed to apprehend the assailant. We are unsure of who it could be.”

Philip shook his head, dark rings began to form under his eyes from lack of sleep. He was up all hours of the night, wrapping his mind around potential paths to victory. But as every night passed the paths seemed to narrow. In his outward behavior and speeches to his Officers and Advisors he attempted to remain confident in his Legion’s ability. But there were seeds of doubt that had sprouted and taken hold of him. The possibility of an assassin being so brazen to make an attempt on his life in public only watered the plants that bore with them doubt.

He moved from his throne room and into the warroom. It was quieter than before the battle. Looking over the map Philip recognized that they would have to march again.

“Where are they going now?” Philip looked over to Mattington

“They are attempting to set up a Siege Camp outside Metz. I believe that they’re trying to coerce Lorraine into abandoning you.” Mattington pushed a small flag from Johannesburg to the fields outside Metz “I will prepare the men.”

VIII.

Spoiler

In the opening hours of the day, under a crisp fall breeze, the Legions of Oren marched from Johannesburg. Once again at the helm, Philip rode on his steed. Forcing a smile on his face and a false sense of confidence he pushed on through the rolling hills and quaint towns of the heartlands. The hearths of these towns dotted the sky with trails of smoke rising above the towns. The fields were golden and ready to be harvested. It was a scene that brought solace to Philip. It had been many years since he had last taken in the sights of the Empire. All too often was he locked away in the Capital, tending to the politics of nobility and appeasement of the masses.

The townsfolk of the small towns welcomed the passing army. It was all too common for the Heartlands to be at the epicenter of Civil War and Rebellion. A Heartlander knew the risks of losing the Empire so they oft’ supported the Legion the best they could. The War that the Empire had been thrusted into was much more than a rebellion against the Crown. It was a war between two peoples, the Heartlanders and the Northerners.

Under the falling red and orange leaves of fall, the Imperial Legion made its way to a small stream. With haste they pitched camp. High black and purple tents went up. The flags of the Imperium towered over the changing colors of the trees. The armorers compiled weaponry, cleaning and prepping them for the coming battle. Footmen were scurrying around the camp like worker-ants. A small assortment of wooden palisades were constructed and guards were stationed along the perimeter.

As the sun began to set, and it’s warm orange glow was cast over the Camp. Philip clad in his black armor, the very same style that Horen V had worn, went from his tent and into the heart of the camp. He strode towards the fire at the center of the camp, the cool air nipped at his bare extremities. He sat down placing his hands out infront of the fire. Beside him were lowly footmen, poorly armored and poorly trained they had only recently joined the legions after the Capital went on large recruitment drives. Expecting adventure and to return to the City a hero many joined. But those who did join were unlucky. As the Capital was slowly cut off from the mines and its supply chains faltering, pure metals were becoming hard to come by. Much of the armor was quickly made, often lacking the proper casting and metal-working.

One footman looked over to his left, immediately taken aback by the presence of the Emperor he jumped to his feet and offered a salute.

“Ave Orenia, Long Live the Emperor!”

Philip waved dismissively and looked over to the footman, “Sit, save your breath, save your energy. There is still much to be done before we may jump to our feet. Where do you hail from footman?”

The legionnaire was surprised at Philips casual conversation, he sat down and looked momentarily into the fire before , casting his brown eyes aside not meeting Philips gaze, the pale and freckled spotted boy responded “I am from the Capital, I grew up out on the fields no more than a half mile from her gates. My father was a farmer, he did not have much but what he lacked in wealth he made up for in faith and loyalty to the Empire.”

“A farmer is just as noble as an Emperor. He is the backbone of our nation, he provides for the people. Tell me, what is your name?” The Emperor patted the boy's shoulder, he must’ve been no more than seventeen.

“I am Patrick Marlow, I joined to escape the harvest season and help protect my home.”

The sun had set now. The Moon rose over the camp. The water reflected the glow of the stars and the moonlight bounced off the stream. It was a peaceful evening, a sense of calm washed over the camp. The breeze that had nipped at the Emperor before had settled. All that could be heard was the pleasant talking of the soldiers and warm crackling of the fire that Philip sat before. It was for Philip as close as he was going to get to the adventures he often dreamed about in boyhood. Sitting beside companions, preparing to run face first into danger. He looked directly into the fire, the orange glow reflected in his eyes.

“In the days and weeks, no, in the months and years, Patrick. We will remember evenings like this as getting as close to the Seven Skies as possible while still alive. It is in our old age we will look back now and be glad we marched to defend the Empire. Or else how would we be able to sit in the calming evening air under the stars, with our companions beside us?” Philip sighed, he got up from his seat and pat Patrick on the shoulder. “Rest, the night grows late and we must march early.”

Patrick sat in silence as the Emperor left to return to his tent. He was confused by the encounter. His youth in the fields had not prepared him to have such a personal conversation with such a noble figure.

Spoiler

IX.

A crash of thunder awoke Philip. Well-rested from the previous night, he stepped out of his tent to be greeted with a heavy rain. He watched as his soldiers darted through mud, some slipping as they ferried weaponry back and forth. It was the dawn of battle and conditions were not favorable. A strong northeasterly wind pushed Philips hair into his vision. Wiping his face he pressed on to the command tent. Two guards saluted him as he marched inside.

Inside he met with Leopold and Mattington. The pair had been in the tent all evening, devising a bold strategy to turn the tide of the War.

Philip threw his gauntlets on the large planning table that the men stood around, “Weather be damned. How will our cavalry fair in this mud? Surely they will be weighed down in their armor.”

Leopold nodded, “Correct. But we have a plan. The Imperial Legion will advance acting as a vanguard against the main force. Our crossbowmen will support the advance. Despite our lack of mobility now that we have lost our cavalry, my personal legion will attempt to flank and push them in. Hopefully we will be able to box them off.

“Hammer and anvil.” Mattington chimed in as he tightened the leather straps of his boots.

“How many will we lose?”

“We have prepared the field hospitals to handle maximum capacity.” Mattington began to say before Leopold cut in,

“It matters not how many we lose, but if this rebellion is halted or not. If we do not cut off this advance then I fear a mutiny within my own ranks, my army grows weary of marching and wish to tend to matters at home.”

Philip shook his head, “They will not have a home if they stop fighting. Mattington, we must be off, Leopold I will see you on the field.”

Philip took his gauntlets off the table and marched outside the camp. Mattington followed swiftly. Waving to the two guards who saluted him earlier to follow him, the small entourage began to make their way to the field.

Flanked by an entourage of black clad Nauzicans, the Emperor descended upon the front lines. There, his army who stood on the field of battle, mud-caked and wet from the rain, rejoiced as they saw their Emperor. Philip climbed a rock in front of his men and looked before them. With arms outstretched towards them, he began to speak,

“Men of Johannesburg, men of Karlsburg, men of Metz, Men of Oren! Here on this muddy field, in this bountiful land we raise our swords against the scourge who dare to blight this land. The rebels think we shall be so easily defeated, that we shall lay down our arms when we see them. Ha! I say this men, we will never lay down our arms. We shall never give in to the pressures of rebellion. It is the youth who lack wisdom that rebel in such a brazen way. It is those who see no end to war and only benefit it who take up arms against peace!

Lo! Look to the ramparts of our enemies, they are filled with men who have been deceived by treachery and by the false promises of nobility. They divide our people both in spirit and mind, for when they embarked on the unnoble cause of Civil War they too embarked on a cause to defeat God by creating a false priesthood! May God witness me as I take my sword to the enemy. May He be there should I fall and may He lift all of us up to the Seven Skies! For we are here on a Duty of God, and if we are to fall today He knows that in time twice our numbers shall take up the just cause of the Empire.

AVE ORENIA! AVE THE IMPERIUM! AVE GOD!”

In a thunderous cheer the armies of Oren repeated the triumphant shouting of the Emperor. They clattered their swords against their shields, they looked towards the Seven Skies and made peace with God. Like the beating of a drum the Legions set off on foot towards the opposing army. The rain beat down against the men, clouding their vision and making their weaponry hard to grip. But they pressed on. Through the mud they began to close in on the enemy.

The sky, while already dark from the rain grew darker than night. The little light that was offered by the sun was soon blotched out as a volley of arrows soared over the army and pierced the armors of the rebels. But just as the Legion’s volleys met the enemy, so too did the enemy’s volleys meet the legion. Men in the front of the lines collapsed as the barbed arrows pierced their armor.

As the army closed the distance between the enemy, javelins began to be launched. Cutting through the sky unaffected by the rain, the javelins found their target. Cutting down swaths of men, the Legion advanced in confidence. But unbeknownst to the generals of Philip, the field had a slight incline favoring the rebels. As the soldiers advanced they found it hard not to slip and fall in the mud. A unanimous laughter could be heard from the rebel army as they closed in and began to cut down the Legion.

The battle turned in favor of the rebels. Soon large numbers of legionnaires lay slain. Their poorly made armor was pierced and cut through by the rebels. Philip continued to press on. In his mind there was no retreat. His blade met the bodies of the enemy. Blood spewed out of all those who encountered him. The muddied fields took a red hue as they were stained with blood. The stream where the Legion had camped took a red tint as the runoff from the field met its pure waters.

As Philip continued on he came across the soldier who sat beside him just the previous evening. Strewn out on the field, he had first been wounded by an arrow in his thigh and then a sword had been taken to his throat. In the savagery of the enemy they cut a man who could not stand down. Philip recoiled slightly. While it was not his first instance with blood and the death of a companion, it struck a chord with him. The farm-boy who enlisted to serve him fell on his behalf. The boys face was blood and mud caked. Philip staggered backwards. His mind had turned, no longer was this a fight to his end, he continued to slash his sword at the enemy as he fell back behind his own army’s lines.

Baldur met the Emperor behind the lines. Philip stared blankly at him, if not seeing through him. “Retreat…” He mouthed.

Soon the Legions of Oren, battered and bloodied fell back from the field. They returned to the camp where they quickly gathered the necessary equipment and returned to the Capital. In their hasty retreat many wounded were left behind, they were never to see their homes again.

X.

Spoiler

Philip returned to the Capital a husk of when he left. No more was he jubilant to face off the rebels. He did not march through the streets to get to the Palace. In a covered carriage he was briskly carried there. The citizenry thought it was a visiting dignitary or other noble, not the Emperor.

The weather had cleared now since the battle. Philip returned to the throne room. He stood at the foot of the steps leading to the throne. He stared at it. It’s white marble reflected the sun’s rays, giving a heavenly light to it and the surrounding area. The door of the throne room swung open and the Minister of the Interior, Edmond Manston entered.

Manston had been managing the City dutifully, keeping its daily components in-check. The Minister had a well-kept appearance to him. He always wore a jacket and a vest. Both the colors of the Horen family. He had served the Emperor’s family since John the Second and continued to act as a faithful administrator to the Empire.

“Your Imperial Majesty…” Manston sighed, moving closer to the Emperor. “Rumours are abound. The Citizenry believe you have died since they have not caught a glimpse of you since your return. Our tax revenue has begun to diminish and the Capital is lacking essential supplies for daily upkeep. I have done what I can to appease them, the local taverns now serve twice as many drinks as they did before the war. Many families are moving away from the Heartlands, to Karlsburg or some other city less affected by War.”

Philip turned to Manston, he had yet to clean his face. The blood and mud caked it. “Mister Manston, help them move. Direct the stewards to send them away from the Capital, it is not safe for them here. Raids shall increase and it will not be safe for them.”

“Of course your Imperial Majesty.” Manston turned and made his way towards the exit of the Throne room, before crossing the threshold he turned to Philip “I have known your father and his father, I have served them faithfully and I shall serve you just as I served them. If I am too fall, let it be within the Heartlands under your service. For if the Empire were to die, surely I must too.”

The Emperor nodded “Very noble for a bureaucrat.” The pair chuckled and Manston left him alone.

The sunken, dark ringed eyes of Philip scanned the throne room. He was alone. His shadow was cast against the floor by the glimmer of the torches that lined the walls.

Philip spotted a chalice and a wine bottle on a counter near a painting of John I. He lept to his feet and made haste towards the bottle. Throwing the chalice aside he uncorked the bottle and let the dark red of the wine flow into his mouth. He made his way to the throne and stationed himself on it. He continued to drink from the bottle, taking large gulps, not giving much time for it to sit. He continued to do so until the bottle was drained. He threw it across the room, it shattered against the floor, shards of glass going everywhere.

In his drunken stupor he let out a cry from his throne and buried his head in his hands. He sat there, caked in mud and blood until the wine took hold over him and he drifted off to sleep. It was restless. Visions of the farm-boy who died flashed before him. The Johannian Emperors also made an appearance. From the Seven Skies they looked down on Philip, their anger became known and they hurled insults at him.

“Should never have been Emperor!”

“He has lost our life's work!”

“He is no son of mine.”

The night passed, the sun began to rise and still, Philip sat in his throne asleep. The servants of the palace did not dare wake him, else face his wrath.

XI.

Spoiler

“Your Imperial Majesty, your Imperial Majesty, wake up.” A young male's voice said, he went and nudged the Emperor “Your Imperial Majesty.”

The Emperor awoke, still filthy from the night before and still slightly drunk, he looked to the boy. “What is it Caius? What do you want?”

The son of Leopold, dark haired like his father and just as clever shook his head briefly at the Emperor. The degeneracy that the Emperor had succumbed to worried him deeply. “Your Imperial Majesty, the rebellion, this time headed by the dwarves march towards the Barony of Canatal…but..” He was cut off by the Emperor

“Gah! They attack Canatal, send forth our army, they will be fools to attack such a defended place.”

“Your Imperial Majesty, Canatal has left the Empire.” Caius took a hesitant step back, he balled his hands behind his back and looked toward the Emperor nervously.

A door swung open and from the apartments of the Imperial Family entered his sister. She was known to the citizenry of the Empire as being beautiful. Her long dark-brown hair illuminated her green eyes. Her figure was small and dainty, but like any woman of House Horen she held her own.

Hesitantly she walked forward, “Philip…”

“It’s your Imperial Majesty,” The Emperor responded coldly. He stepped down from his throne, the brother and sister met before the staircase to the marble seat. The Emperor looked coldly into her eyes, as if by doing so he pierced her heart.

“Charlotte Sophia, allow me to ask you a question .” Philip clenched his hands behind his back, he was motionless otherwise.

“Yes of course, your Imperial Majesty…”

“If next month, or next week, no let us say tomorrow the rebels were to enter into Johannesburg. They were to plunder the city and make off with our women. What would you do?” Philip’s stare was cold, a shiver ran down her spine

“W-well your Imperial Majesty, I would make haste to the rolling plains of Lorraine. I have many companions there…”

“Traitors.” Philip harshly responded, “All of them! Tell me sister, what would you do there?”

“I would serve God, mayhaps I would enter a nunnery.” Philip took a step forward as she said this, he unclenched his fists from behind his back and in one quick motion brought both of his hands to her neck. He tightened his grip, Charlotte was taken aback and she had no chance to let out a cry for help before his cold hands were wrapped around her throat.

“If you wish is to serve God, why then would you flee to Lorriane? He is not there. No, He is here! And if you wish to serve God then you shall stay here with me and serve me for I am HE!” He yelled, spit flying into her face as he tightened his grip.

Caius looked on silently at the situation, he was taken aback by the whole event. He quickly made haste out of the throne room and to the streets.

Unhuman sounds began to emerge from his sister. His grasp tightened more, beads of sweat dropped down from his forehead. His muscles ached as he continued to tighten his grip. The face of his sister began to turn blue, blood vessels burst as her body struggled for air. Her body recoiled as the lack of oxygen shutdown her brain. A wave of euphoria passed over her as she went into hypoxia and soon her life faded. Her body went limp but the Emperor remained there, hands tightly grasped around her throat.

Caius and Leopold barged into the throne room. “Philip! Enough!” Leopold shouted at him.

Philip released the body. Her neck was bloodied and bruised, Philips forearms ached from exhaustion. “She was not loyal, she was a traitor to the Empire!”

Leopold shook his head, “You are the only traitor to the Empire. You have betrayed your father and our grandfather. You may take your Empire and have your way with it. You may rape our values and destroy our history but I shall not take part in it. No.”

“What do you mean by this madness?” Philip responded, he was kneeling over his sister's body, shaking madly

“I mean that I am done, I am done with this madness, I will take my army and set up the last bastion of humanity. We shall preserve what you have left out.”

“Go! Leave my throne room, leave my Empire!” Philip shouted, he stumbled to his feet and returned to his throne. He looked over his sister's body and the pair before him. “But know this, they will come for you. You are of my blood, you are my kin and they will hunt us down.”

The Father and Son, now protectors of humanity turned on their feet and left the throne room.

XII.

Spoiler

A fortnight passed. Fall had turned to winter and the greenery of the Capital lay barren. So too were the hearts of the Capitals remaining residents barren. In the days since the Westerlands departure from the Empire, a final realization had come over the city. The era of Oren had passed. The legions that marched across Tahn and Asul would be themselves marched over by time. The monuments which dotted the city would fall to decay and be destroyed as the Rebel army took hold over the city.

There was a mutual feeling of despair among the remaining residents and soldiers of Johannesburg. Yet they were still ready to bare arms in a final defense of the Crown. The Empire was more to them than conquering others. With the founding of the Johannian Empire, a wave of peace had washed over humanity. Individuals from all walks were united in the common defense of each other.

Under the cloud of this despair, several unknown shipments had entered the City. Thought to be weaponry and other armaments for the final battle, the residents merely glanced over it. But to the coffers of the Emperor, the cargo was a twenty-thousand mina well-spent. The cargo was moved into the city and set inside the dark and intricate cellars of the Palace. Those who had delivered the cargo were quickly cut down by nauzicans once they brought it into the cellar, ending all knowledge of what was delivered.

The Emperor turned to his throne room. He ascended the steps to his throne and sat himself down on the marble chair. He closed his eyes and relaxed. In his boyhood aspirations, he had thought it would be enjoyable to sail. To cross the gangplank onto a triple-masted ship. To see the deep blue of the ocean push against his ship. He would cross the oceans, traveling between continents, bringing home treasure and women. The sea breeze would always be blowing his hair and his skin would stay tan from the sun. His aspirations let him stay away from the Palace. Away from the madness which was the inner-workings of the Empire. He was the third son.

Philip opened his eyes and looked toward a nearby servant, “Rally my dearest Officers and Advisors, bring them here.”

XIII.

Spoiler

A crowd had gathered in the throne room. In the crowd Philip saw his dear friend Ser Walter Marshall. As a faithful knight, Marshall had fought valiantly to preserve the Empire. The rest of the crowd had mainly consisted of servants and low-ranking officers.

“So this is who hears my cry, my dear Marshall where is everyone else?” Philip said from his throne,

“ They are preparing to do battle, {Malg} is not through with the fight, he is preparing to rally out and meet the enemy in the fields of the city.”

“Very well.” Philip rose from his throne, still on the elevated surface which is throne sat, he moved forward. He looked over the crowd that had joined him.

“We have fought in the Mountains and plains of this land. My sword has slain more enemies in one year than all my lifetime. I will not stand idly by as my Father and His Father's work is destroyed by a rebellion. We will not go silently into the night!

I have lived steadfast and fierce, I will not kneel to the dogs of war, and my wings shall not be clipped by the greedy paws of Staunton. I live for the Empire! Ave Orenia! Ave Horen! Long Live the Emperor”

Philip looked up at the ceiling of the throne room, he opened his arms wide as if embracing a heavenly figure.

“Ave Orenia! Ave Horen! Long Live the Emperor!” The Crowd erupted in cheer

…

The Black Legion left Johannesburg. No one spoke, no one said a word. They recognized that every step they took, they would be marching one step closer to the end. As the army both Orens and Rebels took the field a bright light washed over them. Followed the light was an ear shattering roar, it were if God had opened the heavens and sent down one thousand storms at once.

The armies looked over in the direction of Johannesburg. In the city was gone. Eviscerated by the blast, there were only smoldering ruins left. In a blink of an eye, the Capital and its remaining residents were gone.

Ashen snow began to fall.

…

Yeah its long.

June 19, 2017

A Temperate Night in Mardon

An Introduction of a Prince

On the eve of the Summer months, where the days grow so long and nights so short, a young boy no more than eight years of age emerges from the doors leading into the Throne Room of Mardon. His head was of fire, much like the hair that adorned the first Emperor. He was neither tall nor short, but average in many respects.

When the sun meets the City walls, this is when the boy feels most comfortable coming out of his enclosure and into the City. Adorned in a red vest and white undershirt, his leather shoes given to him by the finest cobbler tapped against the stone steps as he descended onto the City Streets. His eyes dance from building to building, scanning the streets for his next adventure. A saying runs through his head over and over, “Mischief builds Worldly Men.” Who told him he knows not, but it stuck.

A gentle breeze passes through the gates of the city, not minding the guards who stand at attention despite the hour of the evening and it gently brushes up against the boy. Cooling the air around him he takes a deep breath. It was a fine night for a boy and his fellow-scoundrels to make trouble.

He turns around to admire the Palace in the glow of the sun. A palace is no place for a boy. The walls feel closer everyday and he longs to be amongst the people who till the earth, who pace the streets and fill the tavern halls with the jubilant sound of laughter, the sound only countrymen who share drink could make when in each others presence.

Thoughts of the new faces that filled the palace raced through the boy's mind. It had not been long since the declaration of a new Empire and with the the declaration brought a round of newcomers into the City. While it was nice for a time to have this change, the boy longed for the days where things would settle down.

The Boy turns back towards the city. He pushes on, growing farther from the Palace. He stops short, casting his eyes upwards, he puts his hand out in front above his eyes to shield his gaze from the setting sun as he tries to make out the reason for his stopping.

It was the Arc de Johannes. It had not been long since the ruination of the City of Johannesburg and it had been before the time of the boy, but it still had an ever-looming figure on him. In Fact the City in which he stood was nearly a mini-replica of Johannesburg. He had heard the stories time and time again.

In the last hours of the Fifth Empire, where Man pitted against Man struggled to push their way of life upon another, an Emperor, perhaps mad but perhaps courageous stood in the Throne Room of Johannesburg. It is said that when the love of Country outstrips the love of Self, that is when the most courageous acts occur. Be this courage or be this selfishness only the fallen Emperor knows. But in those waning hours he stood amongst his nearest soldiers and councilors as he made an oath to never give up the Jewel of the Empire to scoundrels and vagrants. This was told through the rungs of his family, over and over.

The boy pushes on, leaving the Arc behind him. He paces the streets, families begin to return to their homes where the women of the house has prepared a dinner that could be found within the Palace. He comes upon the City Tavern, The Snoring Bear. Draped down its columns are the purple and black banners of the Horen House. He peers inside, knowing better to fully immerse himself. Within are various colors, bright and exciting. He longs to join the fellows of all shape and sizes who position themselves on stools around the table. They call for the barmaids and serving wenches with great bosoms and tease and prod as they approach them with drink. They were the people he longed to be with, they were his countrymen.

As the moon finally took the place of the sun and the stars replaced the glow of sun rays. The boy leaves the tavern porthole and moves to a tree by a lowly building. He climbs the tree, watching his footing and other branches. He makes it slightly above the roof, and from his position on the tree he blindly leaps, hoping to make it onto the roof. It would so have it that on this night, be it God or the fate He crafted was not in the favor of the boy. His leap falls short and he lands in the grass below the tree. A guardsman who saw the blind leap and subsequent fall rushes over. He looks down at the boy, in a short moment he recognizes him.

“Tonight is no night for a boy-prince, young William.” the guard says, lifting William up off the grass.

“But it is a night to visit my people and live amongst them! I hate the palace, it is no place for me.” William crosses his arms and mumbles “Besides, I shall be King.”

“Mayhaps, but for now you are just the Crown Prince, the Boy Prince of Mardon, William James.”

And so with William in tow, the guardsman turns towards the Palace and makes his way there. Ending the escape for William who so longed to be in the temperate night, and who so longed to be in Mardon.

...

(A little intro to my new character.)

Posted June 7, 2017 · June 7, 2017

NOT COOL whoever hid/removed my post. add it back please. this is off topic and ren dont care. FMs more like FNs... Forum Nazis

Posted June 6, 2017 · June 6, 2017

To Ren,

This is absolutely trash. You have made me go back into every one of your posts and remove any +1 I have ever given out. I have seen drfate produce better content then your [redacted]ic ass. You make me want to lobotomize you and then leave a hole just big enough that I can skull [redacted] you and leave some useful information. This thread took up valuable server space and you ought to reimburse Tythus for any loss of property he's had by this. In fact, you ought to reimburse every single person who reads this thread. After people have read this they were rushed to the emergency room where they were diagnosed with stage four brain cancer. The title of this thread is so stupid that it makes me wish I could take the words off of the screen and use it as a noose to hang myself. You have driven me to suicide.

-Boiendl

[Edit]

Everything after that [Edit] mark is me going back to this and becoming reignited with a hatred of this post. It is just so bad. You took the time to message these people myself included, crop the photo, write the title et cetra. What a waste of time. This belongs in the landfill of hell. This post is such a failed attempt at making a joke that even Amy Schumer wouldn't steal it. This is one of the worst threads of LOTC. I felt a chromosome enter into my DNA when I read this post, because of this post i cnant type pruperly becuz i am now duh downsin mannn. you ******* [redacted]ic [redacted]. Thankz a bunch Ran fur makin me duh downsyn mang. I wish eye culd typerl rike a purson agen. Butt nu this iz how i lif now becuz of ur ******* dumb ******* post u fuhkibn shiet fur brians excuz o f a forum muderatur.

March 10, 2017

You make me wish we could still -1

March 10, 2017

His Holiness, Daniel IV smiles when he see's mention of being able to comfort a devout canonist. He makes a small blessing for Alywin and sends forth a missive in hopes to meet him.

March 8, 2017

A Scaled Down Fresco of His Holiness Daniel IV Combatting Theological Fallacies , 1600

CAVENDUM INEPTIAS

BEWARE OF ABSURDITIES

1601

Penned by,

His Holiness DANIEL IV, High Pontiff of the Church of the Canon, Metropolitan of the Crownlands, Archbishop of Enochas, Visigia and Erochland, Prince-Bishop of St. Thomas, Johannesburg, Esheveurd, Luciensport, Huss, and Dibley, Abbot of Laureh’lin, and Hariam, Bishop of Godfreo, Fernandus, and the Westerweald, Successor of the High Priesthood of the Church, Supreme Pontiff of the Church of True Faith, Keeper of the Canon, High Servant to the Exalted's Testaments, Humble Servant of the Faithful and Vicar of God

There is a summation at the end for those who neither time nor deep reading ability

To the Faithful,

It is a sad day that an apparent ‘human’ faith (which is in truth a mutation of a schism of the Canon) hath condemned Exalted Godfrey and Siegsmund. To this I feel it my duty as His Holiness to pen a response and reassure the Faithful.

In rejection of the Prophets, the mutation thus writes:

“The Church affirms that both Godfrey and Siegmund were too earthbound to lead Godly lives and to be called to prophethood whilst Horen was an humble leader of his tribe and Owyn was a destitute orphaned prince who purged God’s enemies. Why would God call worldly and sinful men to deliver his message?”

-VICARIVS IVBEO, Section III, Subsection I

Is the lout that pens these words an Aengual or perhaps a Prophet, or better yet, is it He? I am overwhelmingly confident that upon self-reflection the author of these blasphemous texts will find that he is a Man. And all Men are fallible and all Men sin. So I beseech upon you, faithful the words of the mutation

“Why would God Call Worldy and sinful men to deliver his message?”

-VICARIVS IVBEO, Section III, Subsection I

Does the author reject his own authority, in that to lead any flock of GOD is to deliver His message, but surely GOD (according to these blasphemous texts) did not choose you for why would He call upon Worldly and Sinful Men? So, who is it to reject the Holy Scrolls and condemn the Prophets? Is he better than God?

For even Owyn was sinful! He slew his Uncle Harren, to which GOD frowned at and Owyn recognized he committed sin. This is, if they acknowledge this. Mind you this, Faithful. The Prophets were not chosen for their perfectness, but because they overcame their humanistic sin for the greater good.

The author hath shown a base understanding of the Holy Scrolls. Lo’ Faithful, for in his absurd writing he must not realize his own condemnation of Owyn. The author pens:

“The scroll of the Gospel is nothing more than the mere history book of Holy History, which should be respected, but should not be viewed as something of a sacred and infallible nature, for, unlike both Virtue and Spirit offer no moral teaching and is wholly incomplete.”

-VICARIVS IVBEO, Section III, Subsection II

Yes, they are so bold to denote the Scroll of Gospel as a fallible history book. Do they have no reason and logic? The consequences of denoting the Scroll of Gospel opens the prospect of Horen and Owyn not truly being Prophets and the sacraments of the mutation come into question. For the Scroll of Gospel is more than a history of the Church, it is the life of Exalted Horen and Exalted Owyn. For a mutation to claim that their lives may not be true and debase them as mere history is most unholy.

The author denotes the Gospel as non-sacred. To which I say, what we know of Owyn and Horen is in the Gospel, is this too non-sacred? And are these sacraments of the mutation non-sacred? For we know of Baptism because it is so authored in the Scroll of Gospel! For we know of St. Julia’s existence and subsequently the sacrament of marriage for it is too within that same Scroll.

Will these heretics pick and choose what is sacred and what is not from the Gospel? Apparently so. To which I ask, if any of them read this, how can you pick sacred and true events from a Man( this being Godfrey who penned the Scroll of Gospel) thou proclaim as too earthbound and not in favor with God?

Are they to base their faith off half-truths and picking only what fits their inherently anti-human dogma?

Now, let us look at the mutations condemnation of Siegsmund and the Holy Scroll of Auspice. First, let us examine the nature of the scroll. The Scroll delivers prophecies and while it is short that does not make it not holy. For why must GOD’s word be long?

And who is this supposed holy man to declare GOD’s word either finished or unfinished? The Author pens that in the hundreds of years after the last Prophet’s death (this being Sigesmund), the scrolls remain incomplete. Doth He speak for GOD? No, I say let GOD speak for GOD and let his Divine Light guide the Flock. If this man claims the scrolls are unfinished, then he contradicts GOD for it is clear that they are finished for after all these years GOD hath not modified them.

To this I ask, what purpose does this serve?

The nature of this mutation is to act not as a servant of God, but as a servant to the political machinations of the Kingdom of Courland. Which, it behooves to eradicate traditions established by Godfrey and Siegsmund for they are symbols of a UNITED humanity.

Lo’ faithful, look further at the mutation’s musings, for they proclaim St. Julia as a Patron of Courland. On what grounds do they do so, for St. Julia’s life is within the Gospel (which to them is fallible) and even then, there is no mention of Courland in any scroll.

To cast out Godfrey and Siegmunds Line and to remove their Exalted status serves as a secular purpose to remove claimants from unifying Humanity. A purpose which directly benefits the Kingdom of Courland.

Faithful, I recognize this is of length, so I shall now give a simplified understanding:

If this mutation is to declare the Holy Scrolls of Gospel as fallible and mere history, then they too declare the life of Horen and Owyn as fallible and mere history, not sacred. This allows their lives to be mutated and cherry-picked for actions that fit their dogma. But, if they choose what is sacred from the Scroll of Gospel, which is penned by as they declare a non-Prophet, then are their ultimate understandings of Owyn and Horen truly holy?

And to declare Godfrey and Siegsmund as non-prophets they benefit the secular power which allows them to inhabit their Kingdom. For Godfrey and Siegsmund share in that they united humanity both spiritually and physically, further they defended Humanity from aforementioned Kingdom’s overseers, the Uruganites.

This mutation delegitimizes their own theology. They further delegitimize Saint Julia and by doing so they reveal to the world the true function of their supposed Church. They function to tear humanity apart and act as a tool to the political machinations of a nation that consorts with those who wish to oppress humanity.

CANONIST AND PROUD

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March 7, 2017

VOX DEI HOMINES

HARK MEN OF GOD

1601

Penned by,

His Holiness DANIEL IV, High Pontiff of the Church of the Canon, Metropolitan of the Crownlands, Archbishop of Enochas, Visigia and Erochland, Prince-Bishop of St. Thomas, Johannesburg, Esheveurd, Luciensport, Huss, and Dibley, Abbot of Laureh’lin, and Hariam, Bishop of Godfreo, Fernandus, and the Westerweald, Successor of the High Priesthood of the Church, Supreme Pontiff of the Church of True Faith, Keeper of the Canon, High Servant to the Exalted's Testaments, Humble Servant of the Faithful and Vicar of God

To the Faithful,

I pen this with a heavy hand, for the mutation of a schism hath decided to strike out in anger and wrath. This mutation is driven by purely secular reasons. Lo’ for they suckle at the teet of the Kingdom of Courland. They wish, in vileness to divide Man, both in soul and body. They wish to pit Man against Man in the Seven Skies. It is a sad day to see supposed men who are apparently so passionate about GOD fall so low.

Turn to thy neighbor, Faithful. If they are a Man or Woman of this wretchedness, ask them this, “Doth the supposed Church that reject Prophet Godfrey truly have the interests of Man in mind?”

The answer is simple, NO! They wish to disregard Godfrey for he is a symbol for a united Man and it is the Kingdom of Courland that despises a united Man. It is they who wish to purge even Men united Spiritually, which is a Crime above all.

And now ask them this: “Doth the Courlandic Church which in it’s original foundation touted the Scrolls as most high, and now rejects half of those scrolls and again mutates, truly have stalwart and resolute Faith?

Again the answer is NO! For these supposed Men of God are not sure in their Faith, for they change the dogma and core tenants of it annually! Hypocrisy and Degeneracy dwell amongst their ranks and in their halls. Hark! For when we cut down the dogmatic beliefs of the Lotharic Communion that changed their name and dogma! Hark! For when we cut down the original dogma of this mutation of the Lotharic Communion, they change their dogma and become ever more extreme.

They are inherently anti-Man. Lo’! For they will consort with those who seek the continued division of Man spiritually and they will align themselves with those wretched ilk. To support this Mutation on the Faith is to be against Man.

And so Faithful, I say this. We shall not bow our heads, we shall neither tremble nor cower. These men have propped up a false faith and their aggression on the Kingdom of Hanese-Ruska who is the Fidei Defensor, must be met. So, like Exalted Owyn, we shall take up the sword and combat those who are seeking to strike out.

Recall Owyn!

“Thou standest before Me in the waters of Gamesh, Owyn, son of Godwin, son of Horen. And thy people cry for justice and for purity. Takest hold of this blade, for it is a symbol of holiness, and by it thou shalt cleanse man of sin…”- The Scroll of Gospel, Owyn 7

And now be like OWYN!

The Courlandic Faith is assaulting not just Haense, but Canonism. And for this heresy that pounds at the gates of the Seven Skies we shall take up our sword and our shield, and let us be guided by GOD as we defend His Kingdom.

We are the Church of the Canon, we have guided Man for hundreds of years. We seek to keep Man at Peace with itself spiritually. But when that is threatened and attacked, we shall do what we need to uphold GOD.

CANONIST AND PROUD.

February 27, 2017

☩ Fides et vita Floruerunt ☩

The Faith and Life’s Struggles

1600

As Penned by,

His Holiness DANIEL IV, High Pontiff of the Church of the Canon, Metropolitan of the Crownlands, Archbishop of Enochas, Visigia and Erochland, Prince-Bishop of St. Thomas, Johannesburg, Esheveurd, Luciensport, Huss, and Dibley, Abbot of Laureh’lin, and Hariam, Bishop of Godfreo, Fernandus, and the Westerweald, Successor of the High Priesthood of the Church, Supreme Pontiff of the Church of True Faith, Keeper of the Canon, High Servant to the Exalted's Testaments, Humble Servant of the Faithful and Vicar of God

Preface:

I pen this to the Faithful, to those who are knowingly unfaithful and to those who are unknowingly unfaithful. It has come to pass that all three aforementioned groups require a better understanding of the Faith. It is my deepest hope that by the end of this, all may have a clearer understanding of modern issues that are relevant to Faith and it’s Traditions.

Table of Contents

Humanity
Women
Pleasures
Magic
Sects & Schisms
Non-Believers

I.Humanity

Humanity now being in the year 1600 has taken many different turns. Humanity has now gone through six cycles of unity and balkanization. We must look to the Faith to understand this, as ALL is made clear by God and the Holy Scrolls which he has given us.

First, look to the beginning. It was God who created Man. God gave His Son’s each a tribe of 7,000 Men, and to which each Son became King. Horen’s tribe soon suffered to the hands of temptation and sin, and both God and Horen saw this. So Horen, in his wisdom to protect his people, took them South to establish a most Holy City.

“...and he took them south of the Isthmus of Kramoroe, between the ruins of the highest towers, Aemon and Daemon. And there Horen drove the stakes of his sacred tabernacle into four corners, and they became the boundaries of the holiest city.” - The Scrolls of Gospel, Scattering 2

Soon Horen was slain by Krug and his People and the most Holy City was turned to ruins. And so Horen’s sons, Harren who was his firstborn, Godwin his second Son, and Joren his third Son all took what remained of Horen’s tribe and set off in their separate directions.

“And so Harren, firstborn of Horen, led a third of his people into the Peninsula of Whispers, and there established his kingdom, Idunia, and his great city, Alduun. And Godwin, Horen’s second son, led another third into the Valley of Jrent where men once lived, and he wed a virtuous lady of his people, and was King of Aaun. And Horen’s final son, Joren, took the last of the tribe of man, and he went in the mountains to become King of Edel.”-The Scrolls of Gospel, Scattering 9

And so many years later, after each son’s lineage had grown, it was Harren who in his own quest for glory set out to try and conquer the Kingdoms of his Brothers. His conquest was more or less unsuccessful. It was not until Owyn slew Harren and reunited Man was Man one tribe again.

We must look to this past and compare it to our present. Just as in the past Like Harren and Owyn, there will be Men who seek to unify Men. And just like the three Sons, Man will scatter when Unity is loss. But there has remained one persisting unifier between tribes of Men. God has remained in the minds of them. So I say unto you Man, though we are now balkanized, we must keep God in our hearts. Like God who brought Owyn and the apostate Harren together in attempts to unify Man, the Church must attempt to keep Man at peace. We must keep a love for the Faith and through that love we WILL find unity.

II.Women

To the Women who have become disenchanted with the Church and God. It is with great sorrow that I write this. Some claim that they are forgotten or they are not valued in the Faith. Others appear to claim that they are taken advantage of or not treated equally. I say this, the Faith hath divulged the Truth about your station, so take heart and pride in your life.

We must remember that it was Julia who married Horen. Julia who bore the three sons of Horen, Harren, Godwein and Joren. Further, we must remember that she was most wise. She listened to Horen and in her wisdom she did not succumb to the temptations of Iblees. She protected her family and revealed the temptor.

“And thus informed, Julia went into her family’s tent, their holy tabernacle, and she gathered their three sons there, and bade them to remain in the sacred place as she walked the camp, looking for Iblees.” -The Scroll of Gospel

“But Julia was wise and recalled her husband’s warning, and she revealed Iblees, and the Denier was cast out of the camp, and was very wroth.” -The Scroll of Gospel

After she had cast Iblees out of the camp of Horen’s tribe, she retired to her tabernacle where she cared for her family. I beseech this to you Women. The Faith hath revealed that a Woman is Wise and that She is caring. So you must strive to be like Julia who was most wise and most caring.

To those Women who seek to take up the Sword. Let us be reminded that it is a Woman’s task to first care for her home. But for those who persist, let us turn to Saint Emma of Vladov, our patroness of the Schism War. She was a Woman of great feats. She was able to take up the sword because she had the physical strength of a Man.

God hath imbued Man and Woman with different Strengths and Weakness. Do not be disheartened if you are diswayed from joining in combat with your Brother. Rejoice! For you have been given the gift and blessing of great empathy and child-rearing. The Faith does not see you as unequal, no, we see you as different, so again, rejoice!

III. Pleasures:

Lo’ to the man who sits in the tavern day in and day out. He wastes away in tankards of sin. God frowns upon this, but this is not to say that to drink is inherently wrong. It is to do these actions to excess which is the sin. It was God who created Wine and Spirits…

“I am the Lord God without peer, and I grew the first grapes of the vineyard, and put into thy heart the pleasures of the flesh…” - Scroll of Virtue, Canticle of Temperance 2

While it was He that created wine and spirits, to drink these to excess does not make a man closer to God and his creations. We must not overindulge, for if we were to overindulge, we would not be Man in Creation, we would be closer to animals…

“For I have given to thee the pleasures of the world, and they shall relieve thee in the theatre of virtue. And thou shalt take them in restraint, and shalt not become a thing of vulgar enjoyment like the beasts of the earth.” -Scroll of Virtue, Canticle of Temperance 3

Hark the man who visits the mistress of the night and who sulks in the alley’s and backstreets of taverns. This man who sleeps with whores God does frown upon. Look to God’s word now and see the error of this man’s ways…

“So I am the Most High, and in pursuit of My Virtue, I bid thee, My faithful, this: Thou shalt not lie with thy kin, nor the weak of mind, nor the young, nor those of other tribes, and none shall lie together but in holy union.”- Scroll of Virtue, Canticle of Temperance 4

And so those who lie together outside of holy union hath committed sin and those who lie with the young or weak of mind hath committed sin. Finally, those who lie outside their race hath committed a grave sin. Look to the apostate Harren, God told him to not lie with the elf-woman.

So to live within the Faith, we must remember to show temperance and restraint in our actions. Do not rush into pleasures and overindulge. We must take consideration of the gifts God hath given us. As an aside, gambling is not a sin.

IV. Magic

An ever prominent issue, where doth the Faith stand in Relation to the Magi?

“Verily, brother, the Lord GOD put many powers into the heart of man. And verily we are all commended into the service of the Lord, and into the service of others, be we physician, craftsman, or king.” -The Scroll of Virtue, Epistle to the Magi 2

Magic is a creation of God, and he hath imbued Man and other Races with this ability. But we must not go and seek to become as God, equal to him or even similar to him in power.

“The Lord is the Lord GOD without peer, but thou seekest power alike to his, and indeed, power equal. And this is a selfish and impossible sin, for thou seekest the supreme power, the ultimate ability, but indeed, there is no supreme but GOD, no ultimate but Him. For He is the Lord GOD incomparable, and who can truly understand Him?”- The Scroll of Virtue, Epistle to the Magi 4

So understand, one must use his God given power humbly. One must not flaunt or be flamboyant in it. Remember to thank God for such gifts. To those powers which we REJECT are: Dark and Void Magic, for they are not Holy nor close to God . We reject these for they consort with Iblees and his dominion. Mind you, that Iblees who was proud of his ability began to doubt God, much like those who wield magic. And in his doubting of God’s Strength, he went forth to the Void and touched it, to which he was eternally cursed and fell out of the Grace of God.

“But among all the Daemons, the chiefest was Iblees, and he was very proud to reign over his kind. And he doubted GOD’s strength, for it was given to the Daemons to rule what was not, and Iblees was chief among Daemons, and he desired to rule without the Lord. So he descended the emanations of glory, and grew farther from GOD, until he reached the Void. And lo, he was cursed by its touch…” -The Scroll of Gospel, Provenance 6

Finally, let it be known that Clerical Magic is permissible in the Faith. But if one is to put an Aengual over GOD, that is idolatry and not permissible. One must acknowledge that it is GOD who is supreme and he hath created Aenguals to serve Him.

V. Sects & Schisms

Sects though now diminished remain a divisive issue amongst the Faithful. We must resist the desire to create Sects. As the Faithful create Sects, they grow divisive among those who do not adhere to said sect. Let us look first to the Holy Scrolls and then to the History of Man. First, it is within the Holy Scrolls that upon creation of the Faith, it was sole. There were not such deviations that we have today. It is with spiritual unity that we may best promote God and obey Him.

Now, we must turn to History. Sects in their original creation have been the machinations of Men who hath been tempted by Iblees. Sects have only divided Man. They have fueled wars and aggression. Let us see the Lucienists who so fervently raged against the Canonists. Let us look to Orthodoxy which violently went against Traditionalism. These conflicts hath driven man apart, so we must resist them.

It is a similar situation with Schisms, which are simply further mutations of sects. Schisms are for those who wish to empower themselves and seek personal glory. We must reject Schisms for who are these so-called Priests who see it fit to divide man spiritually while he is often divided on worldly matters.

The year that I pen this, this being the year 1600 we are plagued by a Schism who hath taken the name The Church of the True Faith and hath mutated it from it’s original creation. We, as the Faithful must reject such machinations. Truly, those who wish to better the Faith would seek change from within, so not to divide Man

VI. Non-Believers

To the Flock who wonder what is to be done with the groups aforementioned, this being: the unknowledgable unfaithful and the knowingly unfaithful. Heed this: We are the Church and through Us we must continue to promote the Faith. It is within the best interest of the Flock to open your arms to those who are within these two groups. This is not to say we must dine with them, this is not to say we must be friends with them, but we must attempt to share our wealth of knowledge in God. For if we try to share our wealth of God, Wealth of Abundance shall fall unto us.

“And I am the Lord God without peer, and My abundance is the true abundance, and My wealth is the pure wealth, and all the blessings of abundance shall fall before the righteous who share it”- The Scrolls of Virtue, Canticle of Charity 5

But, heed this Flock. If those who do not belief in God try to strike against the Faithful, then we must be prepared to strike back. Look to Prophet Owyn who wielded his Holy Sword against those who sought the degradation of the Faith and to those who attempted to strike the Flock. When the Prophet Owyn was ambushed by the unholy in the ruins of the Holy City, he fled into the sewers. There, in the waters of Gamesh, he knelt in prayer, and in his prayer God answered…

“Thou standest before Me in the waters of Gamesh, Owyn, son of Godwin, son of Horen. And thy people cry for justice and for purity. Takest hold of this blade, for it is a symbol of holiness, and by it thou shalt cleanse man of sin…”- The Scroll of Gospel, Owyn 7

And so upon God’s command the Prophet Owyn took up the sword to slay the unfaithful and sinful who attacked the Faithful. So, we as Church and Faith must protect those who are faithful. If you see a Canonist on the street and he is being trod upon by the unfaithful, take up your arms and defend your Brother!

Nations of the Faith must defend Nations of the Faith against those political machinations which seek the degradation of the Faith through direct or indirect means. If there is heresy who try to subvert a Brother-Kingdom, we must rush to the Aid of the Brother. Defend your fellow Canonist and let GOD defend YOU!

In my closing words, I wish to call upon the Faithful to stay resolute and stalwart in the Faith. We must recognize that while the evils in the world are imposing, it is God that is supreme.

☩

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February 20, 2017

His Holiness Daniel IV looks over the missive to the Church. He frowns and pens a response

To whom it may concern at the Order of Equilibrium,

It is most unfortunate that you do not recognize the Authority of God. It is by His Authority that all must operate. To reject His authority is to reject Him. You claim that you wish to not fight needlessly over a shared goal, but I beseech upon you our goals are very different. The Church of the Canon is an institution that has stood for hundreds of years as a way to obey His authority. While you are correct in that we have a goal of guiding Man towards peace, we have a goal of doing it through Him.

So I pen this to the degeneracy that embodies this so-called collective. If you continue to fail to submit to His authority, then we shall continue to foresee animosity. To reject His authority is akin to Harren who rejected His authority thrice.

"...the Lord’s Aengul Artifai descended before Harren, and spake with him. And the Aengul said “Harren, thou art chosen for the vocation of thy father. Come, and receive the Lord’s prophecy.” But Harren lifted his hand, and rejected the horn and laurel." -The Scroll of Gospel, Scattering 9

He rejected God's authority thrice, and as he pursued his sinful ways, the apostate tried to conquer His people, and he slew his brother and cut down many of his brothers lineage. Finally, the righteous Prophet Owyn spilt Harrens blood.

So I shall make this brief, I shall send you the opportunity to submit to God's Authority thrice, and if upon the third time you reject His Authority, we will pick up the most Righteous Blade of Owyn.

Seeing that you hath already claimed to reject his authority, you now have two more opportunities. Do not be like Harren who persisted in Sin even as he bathed in the Grotto of Gamesh.

Signed,

His Holiness DANIEL IV, High Pontiff of the Church of the Canon, Metropolitan of the Crownlands, Archbishop of Enochas, Visigia and Erochland, Prince-Bishop of St. Thomas, Johannesburg, Esheveurd, Luciensport, Huss, and Dibley, Abbot of Laureh’lin, and Hariam, Bishop of Godfreo, Fernandus, and the Westerweald, Successor of the High Priesthood of the Church, Supreme Pontiff of the Church of True Faith, Keeper of the Canon, High Servant to the Exalted's Testaments, Humble Servant of the Faithful and Vicar of God

February 15, 2017

Pontifical Enthronement of Everard II, 1525

Pontifical Enthronement of 1598

The Afternoon was unusually warm. The Sun smiled down upon the Earth, casting its warm arms around it's inhabitants. The Birds flew from the Church Bell-tower as the three low 'dings' rung out. Only the Crows remained perched beside the bells, enduring the everlasting call of the Church. The City of Metz was quiet. It's inhabitants had closed their shops early and took flight from their domiciles to it's great Cathedral.

The great hall of the Cathedral of Metz is bustling as the acolytes, priests and bishops began to make final arrangements for the enthronement. Canonist Lords fill the front rows of pews and the general masses flock to the Cathedral.

Banners of Red, White and Yellow hang down from the sides of the hall. The Red Carpet stretches from the Cathedral doors to the footsteps of the Pontifical Throne.

The Archbishop Rory of Karlsburg stands beside the Pontiff-Elect, he then begins to recite the Prayer of Penitence

"Almighty and most merciful Creator,

we have wandered and strayed from your ways

like lost sheep.

We have followed too much the devices and desires

of our own hearts.

We have offended against your holy laws.

We have left undone those things

that we ought to have done;

and we have done those things

that we ought not to have done;

and there is no health in us.

But you, O Lord, have mercy upon us sinners.

Spare those who confess their faults.

Restore those who are penitent,

according to your promises declared to mankind

in Horen our Lord.

And grant, O most merciful Creator, for his sake,

that we may live a disciplined, righteous and godly life,

to the glory of your holy name.

So say we all."

It is then when the Vice-Chancellor William of Metz was presented to the clergy, bearing an immaculate white frock.

Archbishop Rory of Karlsburg continued; “With the Lord Creator our witness and guide, it has been divined that the Cardnial, William of Metz, born William Nicholas Frable, has been willed to fulfill the seat of the Church Pontificate. Do you heed the call of Our Creator to bear this vocation?

“I do so believe.”

“You have been ordained in our church, your household names forsaken and your life devoted in sole service to the teachings of our Creator. The vows of your past vocations remain firm; now you must make the declaration of assent.”

Archbishop Rory of Karlsburg then reads the Assent, preserved from a different time.

“The Church of Faithful is the One, Holy and Rightful Church of the Creator , worshiping the one true God, The Creator. It professes the faith uniquely revealed in the Holy Scrolls and set forth in the Faithful creeds, which faith the Church is called upon to proclaim afresh in each generation. Led by the Holy Light, it has borne witness to Faithful truth in its historic formulates, the Articles of Faith, The Book of Saints. In the declaration you are about to make, will you affirm your loyalty to this inheritance of faith as your inspiration and guidance under God in bringing the grace and truth of Horen to this generation and making Him known to those in your care?”

“I, William Nicholas Frable, do so affirm, and accordingly declare my belief in the faith which is revealed in the Holy Scrolls and set forth in the Faithful creeds and to which the historic formularies of the Church of The Creator bear witness; and in public prayer and administration of the sacraments, I will use only the forms of service which are authorized or allowed by Canon.” replies William.

Do you accept the Holy Scrolls as revealing all things necessary for eternal salvation through faith?

"I do so accept them."

"Will you be diligent in prayer, in reading Holy Scrolls, and in all studies that will deepen your faith and fit you to bear witness to the truth of the Word?"