Publius

smh the only thing historically important about tyravik is that it switches sides whenever it's convenient making it 'culturally unique' YIKES

damn it I was about to found a nation for the kha finally and the land I was gonna charter is now apart of the freelands gg thanks staff you're ruining the server

Jacques would read this advertisement and scrunch up his nose in disgust, his eyebrow perking. "Why would I tell a stranger my stresses? This sounds like a manipulator; they speak of paid treatment like they are a doctor, though they are treating intangible problems that they themselves diagnose. I pray that no peasants or idle wives actually take a liking to this nonsense!"

I meant discord itself, I know it's a staff preference is for it as opposed to ts but we literally have a community ts for reason

thanks for telling us day of

Acolyte Idas of Plevne smiles lightly hearing of this, but he wrings his hands quietly as he judges the copy he recieves. "This ought to act more as a lobby; no noble should refuse entry to something such as this. I pray they soon seek the High Pontiff to coordinate efforts in reaffirming the faith."

A Weakening Foundation: Faith In the face of liberal ideas being valued just as highly as Church morals, a young and outraged Acolyte by the name of Idas releases his first (and most mild mannered) of a series of thesis’ lambasting this. Written on the 11th of The Grand Harvest 1568, it reads as follows: Depiction of Atheists and Agnostics drinking in Felsen during service, circa 1563 Never before has such a moral tragedy befallen Oren. I strolled through Felsen just the other day, paying little mind as I sought food in the market. Around me, I seen many a jovial man and woman, sporting broad smiles and hollering loudly in laughter at passing comments. This joyous nature was infectious, as I too came to approach my menial errands with giddiness around the square. Until I heard GOD’s name used in vain by a haughty young man. “Good ser,” I said to him, my eyebrows furrowed as I suppressed a scowl, “Please watch how you speak, His favour is not something you wish to lose!” The boy turned to me, waving dismissively at me, his eyes filled with disdain. “It’s just an expression, why do you choose to heckle me?” I stood flabbergasted, fumbling over my words as I questioned as to why he would use such an offensive, barbaric expression, knowing it was to his own damnation and discredit. “I am not a Canonist,” He would say in a condescending tone. “I worry not what GOD thinks!” Those within earshot turned, lending an unimpressed look to us. The worst part of the entire fiasco that had transpired? It was me and my faith they were unimpressed with. They sat in the capital of the HOLY Orenian Empire, yet did not understand the grandeur of GOD. A troubled heart hung heavy in my chest as I walked home, thinking on this. “How has this disrespect come to be?” I begged myself this question, almost in tears with the frustration I felt. “Why would anyone damn their place in the 7 Skies?” I thought long and hard on the question, and a flood of issues came into clear view: The unwillingness to enforce our ideals, the acceptance of the laity’s growing apathy, and the collapse of zeal that used to be found in the faith. As a nation that unified into the Reformed Kingdom of Oren under the Canon faith, as a nation that affirmed its strict adherence to GOD in naming itself the Holy Orenian Empire, I cannot help but see even the slights against Oren as a result of this failure to observe Canon morality, as no man of Canon would sanely turn against His favoured Empire to side with both sodomites and gentiles. In our blood and history, you struggle to see anything but greatness. This greatness though was not achieved by anything less than the good grace of GOD himself, the fruits of our labours found along the path He has set for us. It is certainly no coincidence that people who stray from the Empire have also strayed from the faith, and it is the duty of both to ensure and enforce His word. I find it quite a personal shame though, as both a citizen of the Empire and a man of GOD, that not even the position of the Metropolitan has been filled. The vacancies of Church offices across the Empire make us good men missionaries in our own home, but my thoughts on this issue will be saved for another day. In essence my dear Brothers and Sisters, the lack of zeal and passion that has gone into persecuting the unfaithful and downright disrespectful nuisances who mock us has hurt not only our goals in the Realm of the Living, but also our means and authority to do so. Liberal values must be tempered by Canon morals, to save us and others from creating the lines that are seeing us divided. In GOD’s name, Acolyte Idas of Plevne

As you meander about one of the many large cities of Vailor, your gaze happens upon a piece of colourful trash. Upon inspection, it turns out it is the highest quality of trash; a seedy novella, sporting a provocatively dressed Kharajyr barmaid and a mild, yet revolting sexual innuendo for a title. Should you keep it, it reads as follows… Note from the author: Following many years of writing, I have written many essays, thesis’, speeches and the like, all to appeal to the politically active and conscious people of the realm. In doing this, I have found little time for creative writing, and have failed to produce works that would be more attractive to the bored and the lazy. With this in mind, and desperate for money, I have decided to write another book. It has still been years since I have found any true work, but I toil on. To think, that I used to run the capital of Oren as Lord Steward, the country's diplomacy as Archchancellor, write out the legal documents as her Privy Seal... Without further ado, “The Lusty Kharajyr Maid”. THE LUSTY KHARAJYR MAID, PART 2: IMPALED BY A LANCEFIELD Written by P. Brock Hauss It was a gorgeous day just a stone’s throw away from the Grand Palace of Skravia, a place with absolutely no trouble, strife, or unemployment. Oren had found itself on the receiving end of a beating from the Vanderguan Empire, leaving many disenfranchised nobles to flee to the serene Kingdom of Skravia, including the tall and dashing Oscar Lancefield. It was in his poor spirits, moping about the impossibly beautiful sights of Skravia that he looked eyes with the most beautiful sights; a lucky Kharajyr maid, Khat En’Heet. He stiffened up as a broad smile began to stretch across his face, his noble charm coming back at this moment’s notice... “Hey.” He would say suddenly, flashing a look that was the epitome of suave and slick, “What are you doing out here?” Khat En’Heet looked to the handsome noble lad, blushing intensely! “I am His Majesty’s favourite maid!” She would bumble in her attempt to reveal a peach from her basket, her hands slightly sticky from the day’s work. Oscar would continue his smiling before finally looking away with a playful shrug. “Say, I like the look of your peaches, mind if I had one?” He would say tapping into his Savoyard heritage, the blood of his father, Drake Lancefield, making his smirk truly a Savoyard spectacle not seen since the Duke’s War.. “I don’t know…” She would say, bumbling again in nervousness as the young noble approached her. “King Rocco might be mad if a man tried handling his peaches!” Oscar hum a happy tune, casually carrying on afterwards, “Nonsense, I’ll be gentle; you’ll hardly believe that anyone handled your sweet peaches!” His comment would slam her hard as she little out a yelp, reaching into the basket at the same time Oscar did! “I’m sorry, but I’m interested in something other than holding your hand miss....” He would say, his smirk growing into the largest, most coy of smiles! “I’m sorry!” She would say, giving all her peaches up to Oscar Lancefield, “I mean, I don’t know, I’m just so nervous when handsome men try getting my Skravian sweets…” “I’m Oscar Lancefield.” He would say, looking into her eyes with a newfound intensity. “Perhaps I can lend you some sugar in return?” “I’m Khat En’Heet.” She would say, stepping closer. “How about you give me some of that sugar right now big boy?” She would say, looking up to him with a smirk. “If you insist...” He would say, reaching for her peaches. Unbeknownst to either of them though, King ‘Hard’ Rocco watched on from afar, gripping the pole Khat En’Heet had polished not so long ago. He plotted his revenge, calling on his most trusted of bad boy vassals, Gawain Briarwood... To be continued...