Mister_Gavin

Jean Robert Laurent frowned from the Seven Skies.

Bishop Alexios began to draft plans for a new church, and a new bull...

Alexios could be seen frantically packing objects for liturgical use from inside the humble apartment located above the Chapel of St. Arpad in Numendil, preparing to spread his own particular brand of worship to anyone who would appreciate it!

Alexios is already at the Holy See explaining to everyone that Paladins worship Xan, hate GOD, and eat babies.

The Bishop put down his souvlaki as he saw yet another courier stop by the Parish mailbox. Frowning, Alexios got up and went to the mailbox where a comical cascade of missives fell out. With a sigh, the Priest grunted and picked them up and began reading them. Brows furrowed at the details and the accusations being thrown about, the Bishop decided to first offer up a prayer for the soul of the deceased child and then pen a letter to the Order. "O LORD, remember first your people who art thy inheritance..." He muttered as he lit incense and picked up his quill.

Bishop Alexios lit another candle for beloved Stanislaw next to the one already reserved for Father Tonito in the crypt of the Cathedral of Saint Arpad, closed his eyes, and began to pray. In a moment of melancholy he cried out, "O GOD! Will I have any friends left by the time this godless War is over?!" Inhaling sharply and composing himself, he once more bowed his head and began to pray anew.

Bishop Alexios, tipped his Mitre to the Hieromonk, from one Orthodox Canonist to another. Invigorated by the Homily, he penned a letter to the man! ἄξιος! AXIOS, Brother Osvald! I write to you this day from Veletz, for a copy of your Homily has reached me through the siege lines. Glory to GOD, that it has done so for I find it's message universal and it's contents very pertinent! Words on parchment alone cannot describe the depths of the sorrow and tribulation I have felt over this War. Nothing is so sad as a Canonist waging War against his fellow Canonist. I weep for the family of GOD, for it is most beautiful and wonderful when Brothers dwell in unity and love. I pray that this madness comes to an end soon, for the only regret I feel from reading your Homily is that I did not get to experience it in person! Keep us in your prayers Brother Osvald, His Imminence, Bishop Alexios P.S. Magnificent Vestments, if you'd mind sharing your tailor I'd be delighted to be one of their patrons!

Bishop Alexios wept.

Full Name of Man - Fyodor Kovachev Name of Woman - Lucia Hervela Kovachev Location of Ceremony - Cathedral of St. Arpad Date of Ceremony (Year) - 1957 Name of Clergyman who performed ceremony - Bishop Alexios

Bishop Alexios looked over sagely at Cardinal Stanislaw, "Short the Church stocks - Don't give me that look, just do it!" The Bishop sighed before he pulled out the massive bill for the upcoming Pontifical Residence. "... We're going to need the money."

Let it be henceforth known throughout the realm that Father Alexios, vicar of the diocese of St. Emma under Bishop Odo, is in search of an autmaton crafting teacher. He wishes to serve as an apprentice and to better appreciate the mysteries of the machine so that he may become a Lord of The Craft. Compensation for the knowledge is offered, for Veletz is desperately in need of an in-house prosthesis specialist.

Father Alexios squinted at the parchment with the various documents attached. "Malaka. He got me."

Father Alexios, having been epicly pwned on the forums, prayed deeply for the man regardless.

Father Alexios finished his work of re-consecrating the Church. The Brazier's fragments were gathered to be disposed of or reforged. The foul blood cleaned away and the corpse buried. Incense now rose as a sacrifice of praise and cleared away the stench of the Unholy from the edifice. He had ordered the Icons and the paintings taken down until the Petrans finally did something about the Scourge. The Akritian's eyes darkened and his brows knitted as he considered where such a godless, sodomite might hide in the Commonwealth, before he departed for his own Parish.

Need more Jentos-Valk-Karim hyper based illuminated medieval manuscripts. Good work boys, love the effort and detail.

Father Alexios signed the Lorraine at the news of miracles!

I'm scared of talking to women.

Father Alexios, on far away Lemon Hill felt a strange sensation as he bent his neck over the Altar, studying the Holy Scrolls. The Akritian looked heavenwards for a moment as a storm pattered on the nearby stained glass and shards of lightning flashed in the gloomy dark outside. He furrowed his brows for a moment and wondered briefly about the golem he had met and their brief conversation in Flexio. "Hm. Justinian Belisarius, what an old, old name." he said simply, before he put his copy of the Scrolls away and retrieved a book on Flexio and cracked it open. 'I had better practice, I never know when I might see it again next.' he thought, as he studied, utterly oblivious to unfolding events.

Alexios put away his prayer book and picked up his sword. "Kyrie eleison."

Being bombarded with Thanos cock and Thanos truck a few years back as soon as I joined on of their discords. Community back then was not my cup of tea for obvious reasons and I've stayed away since. It's changed since then obviously, but I'm just not interested.

Without a word, the Green Clad Grillmeister of Acre stole into the keep in the middle of night. No one questioned his presence or his entrance, for he was of them and not a stranger to the castle. Gawain was last spotted sprinting across the bridge over the lake at midnight, a gunny sack clanging as he stole off with several precious relics from the sack of Vienne and several kitchen utensils! He wept during his triumphal thievery, however, for what once was, was no longer, and could never be again. All that was left of his grand time in Acre was dust and echoes.

Gawain looked up at the evening sky as he attended to his duties, but he felt time slow as he stared up at the moon. He felt the cool night air and saw the soft glow from the moon above, he even saw the steak that he had flipped descending back to the air as if in slow motion. Something was not right. Later on he would learn that his beloved Baron had perished and he would cry like a babe, for there were so many more steaks he would have liked to share with the older man.

Stopped doing my college work specifically to upvote this post. Ban the British. It's what Lizzie would have wanted.