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Hey there, I assume you want to know about me so here it is...

The name is gowia (g-ow-ee-ah) or Alex. Or anything else you come up with, I have heard many different names in my life.

I am a 22 year old male, and as such I almost always play male characters.

I am a Brit born and bred and so that is my lingo, I use British words and love my slang, and if I don't seem to make sense I may simply be using English idioms that you don't get.

I enjoy all sorts of things, I am an avid football (Soccer) player and supporter, political activist (I try to be less active here since this down time, but if you are interested in my views please ask), adore music, and adore a good story. I am also studying -and in love with- history. So you will always get a decent plot or conversation out of me on that subject.

If there is anything else you need to ask, feel free too. I swear I don't bite...much.

Most Recent Posts

The Holy Territories of Edoniras (The HTE)

The chorus of cheers and cacophony of praise echoed around the great basilica of the Serene Palace; constructed around two thousand years prior by a monarch of antiquity, the pagan iconography had been stripped bare during a great iconoclastic schism in the centuries that followed. Blood, invisible to the eye but still very present in the soul, wept down the white marble of the sanctuary and even as the worshippers announced their devotion to the platform high above them, the Pope saw the crimson stain in his mind. Stepping out into the light the cheers erupted into a deafening roar and for a moment the elderly statesman and disciple of God was almost knocked back. The very earth shook with the stamping of feet and the call of voices, this was the kingdom of God. Sitting atop the ruins of kingdoms gone before, the thought of which could only bring a smile to the lips.

A God of victory, survival and righteousness. There was no greater God.

"Blessed children of God-" The Pope's voice rang out across the space as people fell silent. Despite his years the voice of the Invictus was clear as twenty years younger and would need to remain as such if he intended to hold his office for long. A Pope unable to preach or proselytise was no Pope at all. On either side of the there was three men. The Tetrarchs, except Marcellus Lucio. He had returned to the Redcliff Empire. His time would come. "I welcome you to our capital, the home of these most holy of states and the home of all of your eternal souls. I have called this festival to celebrate this flock and show you the kindness of God to his faithful - to honour our Father and show him our dedication to the righteous cause." The cheering ruptured the social barrier again as people uncontrollably expressed their joy forcing the man to raise his hands, smiling as he indicated for quiet again.

"I must be serious now, you are not foolish people - as the sceptics might claim - and you are all aware this air of celebration occurs whilst Europe consumes itself in the flames of war. Most shocking of all brother kills brother now in the east to the tune of gain for only the most despotic of rulers. Our brothers, the people of Redcliff have been led astray. Denying the authority of the church and God. Furthermore the heathens of the Hadeen continue their advance on the beleaguered kingdom of Sescos - some of you here now I am sure have fled this very conflict to seek shelter. And so, the Holy Light now marches east. In it's wake we will liberate believers in the land of Redcliff and return it to the glorious bosom of our Lord. Then, from the lands of the Might of Arms we shall depart on crusade." A stunned silence, a moment of shock. Crusade had not been declared for hundreds of years - considered a medieval practice it was believed such a call would not happen again.

"For many years the people of Europe have been disconnected and disorganised, giving into their lusts and the desires of the flesh, whilst the throngs of people like you call for betterment. Until now there has been no safety. The tinderbox is ready to be set alight and return us to a kingdom devout to the true word of God and his son, Christ. I call you now not to take fear into your hearts; instead, take joy. Joy that we will welcome back the people of our faith and bring back so many of the lost into our flock. There is no safety for the heathen and we will show that not only do we guard the souls of the people, but also do we guard the very borders of Europe from incursion of all sides. We are the guardians of the light, the peace and the heavens. We are the children of God and - together - we will carry forth a new golden age for Vipionists across the continent."

The following days...
The province of Salid

"What are y'saying, boy?" The gruff infantryman said as he stood guard from the watchtower at the north of the town. Leaning on his musket he spat a thick globbet of plegm in the direction of his partner who - much to the veterans delight - recoiled practically in horror.

"I-it's just that those buckle are not nearly cleaned to regulation and given our duty I doubt you'll have time to bring them up to code." The rather thin recruit had the first spouts of hair appearing on his chin which only made him look even younger than he actually was. "And if-"

"Listen, you greasy little toe rag, whatever they are saying about why we are here make no mistake. Redcliff won't take kindly to this. Whilst their navy is about as effective as that Edo toast, your so fond of, floating in a marsh, their army is at least something to be reckoned with. If the leadership is any good we'll be camping here over winter and waiting before going any further..."

"But, what about being in Tr-"

"Travton? By the end of the year? If only. No, if God is kind we won't be there by the end of the year."
The Holy Territories of Edoniras (The HTE)

It was a warm, yet breezy, day in the HTE. The windows to the Pope's office were thrown open and gently the curtains rustled to the blow of the wind. Despite the relative peace, the edge of the cool winter air was already creep in and the Pope was forced to wear a number of layers to remain comfortable. However, it was not his own temperature that lay on the mind of his Holiness. A letter, publicly read, had arrived from the Empire of Attolia begging for aid in a punitive expedition to the East. A land the HTE had long ignored, along with most colonial possessions. The request was proving somewhat puzzling to the Holiest man alive and he was left rapping his knuckles on the hard wood as he chewed on his bottom lip. Alongside the letter was numerous other reports attached, including estimations of cost and travel time. Furthermore, reports from agents in the Three Cities reported the establishment of new defences along every major road in the republic. This news was somewhat more warmly received; imagine the cost! The Pope was giddy at such a simple ploy causing so much expenditure.

On the other side of the desk the latest budget reports were in and they were, whilst slightly more positive than before, not the glowing amounts of income he wished to bring to the nation. But, the religious ceremony was mere days away and would bring with it countless throngs of the faithful from across Europe. The festivities would provide so much levity and joy as well as inject a frightfully large purse of foreign currency to the pockets of the Holy Territories commercially and in increased donations. The speechwriters had been pouring over his mass and finally, with his own discretion, they had produced something he would be proud to announce to the people.

Lifting a quill and opening a pot of ink the Pope slowly dabbed in the dark liquid and preceded to produce a reply to Emperor Lothair II, taking the time to hand write the response, this being a private missive for the Emperor.

Your Highness, your devotion to the Father - our Lord - is admirable and, indeed, you have proven yourself to be a capable and devout ruler. I indeed cannot contain my joy at seeing you soon at the summit to be held. The matter of the poor faithful lost to the East is a tragedy, I will be lighting one hundred candles in the Serene Palace to honour their passing. In regards to support for your venture, I can assure you I will mobilise a flotilla to join your own punitive raid and God will go with you into the land of the heathens, bringing with it the fiery arm of smite down upon those who would dare do harm to the home of our shield.

However, expenditure in the HTE is rising and travel across the world is an expensive diversion from current problems closer to our homes. If I can be assured a quantity of the spoils, to display proudly and use to fund such support then, with God as my witness, I can make total promise that the finest aid will be forthcoming swiftly.
His Holiness, Pope Invictus XI
The Holy Territories of Edoniras (The HTE)

With the final chime of the great bell the figures lined up amongst the pews slowly filed their way towards the great open doors at the entrance to the Cathedral. The sweet, angelic, faces of the statues and imagery gleamed down upon the worshippers as they went back to their earthly lives and left the sanctity and tranquillity of mass. At the head of the great room Pope Invictus XI stood tall, beaming a white toothed smile at all the people even as he adjusted some notes in front of him. They were his children, his flock, and he would guide them to safety. When the final person left, his body sagged slightly, the rigour holding him a moment ago fading as he sucked in a deep breath and the cracking facade was allowed to slip. Breathing once. Twice. Muttering a brief prayer under his breath, the most holy man alive restored his portrait of calm, collected, leadership. Adjusting the large mantle of the pontiff which sat upon him like a moral crown of infallibility, Invictus XI stepped in a collected manner towards the small alcove which obscured the wooden door that led into the more labyrinthine complex of the Serene Palace proper.

Orderlies bowed their heads, muttering their greetings in reverence, as he passed before rushing off to continue their duties. Taking a relatively unused passage and then turning into a locked room, of which he held one of the five keys, the Pope entered the Chamber of the Tetrarchs. Inside, four man of varying age - including Tetrarch Marcellus - sat in small plinths around a grandiose and arcane room designed to appear like the inside of a small shack from aeons ago. If, of course, that small shack as built of gold leaf, marble and fine lacquered woods. "Sit." The Pope commanded as each man rose in greeting, cut of before they had time to utter the same duplicitous openings they always made. Each man in that room was a wolf hungry for the title Invictus XI held.

And he would not allow them to have it.

"So, gentlemen, I have honoured this call for a meeting. I assume there is a matter you wish to discuss with me?" He asked, tone betraying a hint of the terseness he felt deep in his core. At first the men looked between each other, conferring with subtle shifts of bushy brows and odd twists of the lips. This men must be damn lizard people, the Pope thought.

"Most Holy-" Charles de Friere began. "A number of us have only arrived in the Palace recently, honouring this call for celebration you have made, and so are not quite up to speed on exactly what it is you are doing with these Holy Territories. Perhaps you can enlighten us?" The Tetrarch for the Protection of the Herd lent back, folding delicate and incredibly thin fingers in front of him like a spider weaving a web. The Pope responded in the same short manner he had first greeted the Tetrarchs.

"Charles, I am leading the territories as I deem most able. There is war afoot, economic tribulation and the state of our orders sanctity and assurances in this life as well as the next." Invictus turned his nose up slightly. "I cannot afford the comforts of the Tetrarchy anymore and instead busy myself acting and not just debating." A flush of red blossomed on the features of the Attolian.

"Your Holiness, you wound me. I was not assuming you were not doing good work, I merely wished to have the purpose and over arching illuminated to this most sacred of conclaves." Silence, was all that was returned to the Tetrarch. "Holiness, as much as we have no legislative power over you - nay, no moral authority over you either - we are not weak individuals in this faith and our cooperation would be a great benefit." The man smiled with viperous venom.

"Charles, we have worked together many years and I've seen that sharp tongue at work more often than I care to admit. I appreciated it when I convinced you to support my ascension, do not now make me cut it out for trying to use it against me. You have all busied yourself in your own colleges since these crises happened, only arriving when I had to call the entirety of our faith. I am not convinced any of you wish to help, I believe you wish to hide and then jump upon me if this crisis goes south and take the Papacy for yourself. Do I know all of you are capable? yes. Do I trust you? No." A brief pause as the Pope looked down and unlocked the case atop his own position. Inside were the notes he had had placed earlier. Lifting one sheet out and closed the case and locked it again before speaking once more. "So, men of the cloth, I offer you this. Stay, support my position and I will give you the place of close advisers as you all know the posts are meant to grant you. Or, do your duty and attend the festival and then leave, knowing that it will burn the very last bridge you have to this office."

It was not long before each of the Tetrarchs swore the same vow. To support their faith and their Pope. Before long each had his own directions and started calling in favours as they prepared the ground for the upcoming change.
The Holy Territories of Edoniras (The HTE)

Deathly, desolate, silence perpetuated the Serene Palace. A minute of utter silence held in honour of every Vipionist passing as the seconds ticked by and war burned away in the east of the continent. Through the hallowed hallways and high ceiling offices all stood in utter and total stillness as they contemplated what has occurred. In the highest room of the tallest tower the Pope, Invictus XI, sat alone and wept. His body shuddering as he held his head in his hands, tears streaming between clenched fingers. It was not the momentous size of the death he was so distraught over, nor the threat to his faith, but his own personal failure. He thought himself better, assumed himself stronger and now as the continent was drawn into conflict he was left on the sidelines in an impossible position. The minute of silence, broken only by his Holiness himself, struggling with his own demonia.

A sharp rap on the door.

The Pope leapt to his feet just as the bells chimed to signal the end of the moment and people all across the largest church in the world went back to the jobs of statecraft that never stopped, even if they did. Using a small cloth to his side he dabbed at his face to wipe away the marks of his own insecurity, turning at the same time to begin reapplying the ornaments of his position back to his robes. "C-Come!" He managed, stifling the last vestiges of weakness and replacing it with icy cold steel. The door opened slowly and the lithe figure of the special adviser appeared, head bowed.

"Your Holiness, it is time to return to your council, even the Tetrarchs are here. They will need your leadership and guidance, especially in these coming days." The adviser simply left then, not waiting for any answer, aware even the envoy of God had no choice in these matters. With a final gulp of air, the Pope was resolute and the facade he lived behind restored to full strength. Like a storm he travelled from the private room and advanced down the steps towards one of the larger meeting rooms currently playing host to the highest advisers in his court and the four men all vying for his own very position. Wolves invites into the home and needing fresh blood every meal or else they'd sink their teeth into the host.

Coming to the doors themselves to the meeting room, ornately and intricate with floral and aesthetic patterns the envy of the world over. Thousands of years of history, devotion and worship; a monument to the wealth of nations and glory of mankind. All pushed aside to welcome the leader of it all to his advisers and begin the new day of business. All stood at his arrival, bowing their heads and waiting patiently as he took the central position on the dais at the head of the room. Settling himself in he looked over the small pack of notes his assistant had made and reminded himself of the orders of business to be noted as well as some of the more niche details he had to consider. Finally, a wave of the hand and resonant. "We begin." To allow all to return to their own seats and the business to begin.

"The most important matter, I believe, for you all to note is the war that was declared on the Kingdom of Sescos. I-" The Pope was interrupted as the Tetrarch for the Might of Arms stood and blustered into anger.

"Your Holiness my brethren go to war as we speak! The people of Redcliffe are good followers, why do we not march besides them!?" The tall and muscular man, a former military officer who found the cloth, Marcellus Lucio seemed to glow a bright red and there were wide eyes at the impudence and direct challenge to the Pope the man had just laid down. Met with the glacial gaze of the Pope the fire under the Tetrarch softened and the venom spat in the next words by Invictus saw the bullish man sit back down.

"Your opinion is noted, Tetrarch Marcellus, now if you could manage to staunch the flow of faeces from that gullet I might be able to finish my own point and allow you to make suggestions, if I deem it appropriate or needed." Without giving the man a chance to reply he returned immediately to his point. "I believe that an immediate declaration of war and hostility is foolish, our men are not in position and we have the summit and a festival to look at. However, this seemingly weak willed display from those outspoken critics across the continent has given us a message we cannot ignore. They will sit back and do nothing when warmongers attack their walls. They have blinked, we will not. So, Tetrarch, you can report back to your allies at home -as I am sure you will - that the Pope hears the plight of our people in the East and they should worry not. He will act in time. I would allow debate and discussion on the point, but I don't particularly want to." The Pope looked to every man, inviting one of them to dare challenge him as Marcellus had done so. None even met his gaze and he nodded, content he had squashed the chance of any internal revolt for now, but aware he had cut off a great deal of advice on the matter. With a click of his tongue he continued. "Further reports inform us that preparation for the festival proceeds well, I assume this is accurate?"

"Er, it is, your Holiness!" A very mouse-like man chirped up from behind giant spectacles. "Pilgrims have very slowly started to enter the country and already we have been encouraging innkeepers and other service providers to higher more stuff and build up stocks in preperation for the increase in traffic through the country as they come to pay homage and celebrate here. Your mass for them all is also being written, we believe a more fiery speech might be wise given the circumstances and your previous statement." Little more was needed and the pope politely replied with acknowledgement.

"Very good, next, the matter of future investment. It seems many of our neighbours funnel yet more money into the colonial ventures they are so fond of. We do not have this as a source of income and none of the trouble that comes from it." Murmurs of agreement, the choice to refrain from colonialism was a tactical one, they knew. "However, this must mean we make our nation the home of industry and wealth. It is no good for the heralds of God to be themselves too poor to aid anyone. The profiteering and mercantilism of the Ianians is proof they have no interest in the freedom of trade, so, we will challenge that. Now. My economic advisor, Roberto Hilario, has put together an initial plan and we are going to put it into motion as soon as possible. Turn to your third page and you will see it laid out before you.

A number of hours later...

"... Which is why, gentlemen, this is not to be announced until we have at least our founding members. With all three member states, we should be able to encourage others to join this and begin the process of seizing back a freedom of trade to help our nation flourish." The men, many of whom seemed a little confused but tried to hide such a fact, nodded in less than unison. One hand rose, like a child, and the Pope waved to him.

"Your Holiness, it is a bold strategy, this is surely to cause further tension. Can I assume we will be making some moves to ensure the safety of the nation?" More fervent agreement here, as war and security seemed to be a matter they understood far better. A hand raised to summon silence allowed the Pope to retort.

"We will be ensuring that the people of our nation are safe and no harm will befall them, what authority does a nation have to denounce protection of trade when they began the arms race?" A shrug of ascent from the outspoken adviser meant there was little else to say and so the Pope finally called the meeting to an end, asking Biblius Massa, Hilard Hershaw and Ferulli Gaza to stay behind. "You, all three of you, will be getting your marching orders today and I do not want to hear from you until they are completed."

As the door to the meeting room swung shut each was enraptured in the details of the movements they needed to make.

The Holy Territories of Edoniras (The HTE)

The muffle of raised voices echoed through the halls of the Serene Palace, thump! A pause, before the voices continued at a higher pitch and intensity, thump! A longer pause now, then in earnest the voices erupted into action once more, thump. Silence finally reigned. The horror any might have felt at the palace being treated in such an undignified way was lacking given the news, the Eternal Hadeen of Dashkatar was preparing to march on the Kingdom of Sescos and many felt the palpable mist of anxiety and stress. All had hoped the situation could have smouldered until the summit where upon a diplomatic solution could have been found to the crisis and force of arms may have been prevented. Within the small chambers of Pope Invictus XI the inner circle of his Holiness argued about responsible action. Sitting in the centre of the modest seats, the Pope gestured to Hillard Hershaw, wearing today the ornate plate and plume of the Attolian Guard that he so favoured in time like this, to make his position clear.

"Your Holiness, nobody wishes for war, except for those heathens across the damnable straits! Outcry for a diplomatic solution echoes across the continent, yet this foreign power have deemed it necessary to make themselves ready for a way they have assured. It is time you met such agression with the resolute shield and sword." Murmurs of approval came from a number of the older members of the council, including the Maritime Adviser, Ferulli Gaza.

"Most Holy, we can have the navy ready as soon as you command it - there is no where for them to flee once we start bombarding the cross and their coast." The maritime adviser then added. However, another voice chirped up after a steely glare was passed to the special adviser by the Pope.

"Most Sacred, we cannot hope to carry the burden of war alone; it would be madness and what started as an isolated conflict has been exploited into war between great powers. It is one of the most foolish and pathetic games of posturing I have seen in all my life, conducted by the totally inept who have - rather than delicately dance around the matter - stuck their foot firmly in it. The truth is, the straits have been the final crossing into Europe those Hijeen dogs have never been able to get across before. Now? Well, unless something is done the desert hermits will be able to make landfall and divide up the land at will. I think it is time we call the people of Europe to put their ideals where their actions are, as well as keep the pressure for a diplomatic solution at the end." Ferrus Pulviasa then returned to his seat and, before anybody could utter a word of debate and debacle, the Pope struck his fist down onto the desk again.

Lifting his hand he sucked in a breath between gritted teeth and then nodded his head. "By my own name you will know that I will not take such a blatant act of aggression and war-mongering from that heathen scum lying down. However, the people prepare for festivity and I myself am about to sponsor a diplomatic meeting to decide the balance of the continent going forwards. This is no time to dispatch the entire army to the opposite corner of the inland sea. Atop this-" The Pope reached to the side and thumbed through a collection of other documents and letters. "We have the profiteering of the Three-Cities alongside this juxtaposition of condemnation for brinkmanship the Redcliff Empire adopts is asinine. We are surrounded my infant monkey's hurling faeces. So, we have a looming economical debate and a military conflict. Time is enough, prepare to make a statement. You will each be receiving my plans tonight, I want functional methods of implementation as soon as you can. Am I clear to you all?"

The nodding heads of the advisers was all the confirmation needed and soon the Pope strode from the room, rubbing his temples as his mind whirred on what he had to face and do over the coming weeks. With a click of his fingers he summoned an orderly. "Take this down, verbatim, then read it back. God above knows this must be worded perfectly.

By the next day...

Leaders and rulers of Europe,
For weeks now I have been inundated by the public remarks condemning the Redcliff Empire and supporting the Echyan Empire against the Kingdom of Sescos, a moderate and rational perspective. But, unless it is simple self-interest that guides you, you have been blind to the far greater cause for concern. The 'Eternal' Hadeen of Dashkatar has built an alliance of many nations - across religious and cultural lines, for one simple purpose; conquest and extermination. They rebuke their old allies - the Akkadian Empire - in favour of any and all that will feed the machine of war hungry to devour us all. Perhaps the people of the Akkadian Empire are next?. This threatens to tip and unbalance the scales of Europe as well as threaten the sovereignty of all who value their independence. Those amongst you who have targeted your denunciations at the Redcliff Empire, unless your ultimatums now switch to the Hadeen of Dashkatar then it is clear you merely meant to try and use a terrible incident of chaos and violence for your own gains. Your people will know you internationally as the very self-interested warmongers you claim to oppose and they will be left to fear the fallout of letting such a terrifying invader even closer to their borders. Fathers will be shot down, mothers raped and the children cut down if we stand and do nothing but allocate whilst inviting the barbarian to our door.

I, Pope Invictus XI, state here and now that I denounce any aggressor in whatever violence is to come. I implore the ships and feet of both sides to carry them nowhere as they hold long enough to let diplomatic deliberation bring an end to this crisis. Will the full force of the Ianian navy be at the shores of the Hadeen of Dashkatar now that they have built an army to cross the straits? Will the Empire of Attolia see the failure to respond to the summit by the Hadeen of Dashkatar as an act of aggression to respond to? Time will tell, but the answer will resonate across this continent and so all will know whether these are nations of their word or simple folk of posture, just like those they speak out against.

The invitation for the summit is still open and the diplomatic talks will go ahead as planned, whether there is war or not. I hope, with all my heart, that every party will be present at the table and any killing that might occur will be stopped. There is still time to pull back the troops. And, there is no place on this continent for those who seek out death, except for on the points of the shields for those who wish the whole safe. Whatever your denomination and whatever your method of rule, we are people under one God.
His Holiness, Pope Invictus XI
The Holy Territories of Edoniras (The HTE)

The door to the room was rather plain, carved out of simple word and only engraved with the insignia of the papacy, leaving any who might see it and not know it's purpose to be shocked for what occurred behind those hallowed doors. The attendants, dressed in ornate and flowing yellow regalia of the Attolian Guard, held their muskets close as they maintained a constant vigil on the hallways leading to this most sacred of rooms. Though, despite the imposing gaze of the men meant to protect the most holy of individuals whom made even the strongest of people wither, it was impossible to do away with many of the highest ranking members of the clergy whom stood with bated breath just in sight. Travelling over the polished stone floor, through the thick wood, and into the room proper we are greeted to a cell.

The dim light of a single candle set in an alcove at the room's far corner cast the faintest of orange hues over the few features. A man, prostrate in the centre of the room, trembled in a cold sweat as he held himself as still as he could whilst gently whispering prayer in a melancholic timbre. Off to his side, still in the long shadows of the room, a basic cot sat with a small wax tablet atop it that already bore the scars of mad scribbling from the nights gone past. A cry as the man suddenly convulsed as his prayer was cut short as the air escaped his lips. Struggling to his knees and pushing himself over to the bed he brought shaking hands up to scratch more text into the tablet as quickly as he could. The words on his lips faster than they were in his hands.

Two days later the humble doors were parted as the slightly short man walked out, lidded eyes carried great dark bags under them whilst clutched to his chest was the closed wax tablet he had been writing on until only a few hours ago. His off-white robes swung loosely and despite having been recently fitted the few days without nourishment already meant they hung off here and there. His salt and pepper hair was closely cropped to his head and with a nod to one of the Attolian Guard, he was followed as he made for his private quarters to freshen up and prepare for his public announcement. The first Great Communion of 1799 had been completed.

A few days later...

"A summit, your Holiness? I am not sure I understand." The hesitant tone of the special adviser spoke a million more words than he would ever actually utter. Pope Invictus XI waved a hand dismissively.

"Am I not clear enough, Ferrus?" The Pope answered, the silence of the special adviser forcing him to continue. "The place of religion is challenged now on an almost daily basis. The rise of 'rationalism' and 'atheism', whilst not an epidemic, is certainly endemic and draws even more from the flock whilst heresy and heathenism continue to plague the great dream. I have convened with God, his will is clear as are the words of the Communion. Unity in the face of ever growing adversity. So, I wish for an open letter to be drafted for all to read."

With a sigh, clearly aware that despite protest none of the court of his Holiness would convince him against this course of action, a tall - lithe - wearing the cloth of the cloister lifted a parchment and started to write;

Blessed rulers of this world, God has spoken to me - as is our way - and with his wisdom and guidance I have deemed it necessary to gather as many of you as is possible to realign the wheels of this world and place us both onto the path of spiritual, as well as corporeal, perfection. In six months time the Serene Palace will play host to a religious festival of the Summer and at this time I invite the purest to attend and meet to discuss matters of state and the soul.
His Holiness, Invictus XI, Father to all Vipionist children and Shepard to the Great Flock

Some confusion spread against the clergy again at mention of a festival. "Yes!" The Pope cut in, silencing the voices. "A festival, the land - as well as the toil of the people - has been good to us. We shall now repay this back tenfold and remind every blasphemer and non-believer that the greatest place they will ever find is in our herd and not out in the wilderness with the death and decay." The tone of the Pope had become agitated, aggressive almost, as he finished speaking. Daring anyone to challenge him.

"Your Holiness-" A gentle and soothing voice spoke up. "I admire the plan, I do, there is not here amongst us who would dare to question God's directives. So, if I may lead us into the next point at hand?" A smile as smooth as honey blossomed on the soft features of the foreign adviser.

"Yes, Biblius." The Pope sighed, leaning back in his seat as he rubbed his temples, internally scolding himself for the outburst.

"Our informants report - alongside most of the media in all countries - the violence between the Kingdom of Sescos and the Echyan Empire are about ready to flare into full conflict. Alongside that a recent condemnation from the Senate of Oflua means this war could become incredibly volatile and spread much further than expected. It is time his Holiness made a papal bull on the matter, and I believe I know what we should say." A nod from the Pope caused the foreign adviser to carry on, amidst the focused faze of the others in council. "His Holiness, Pope Invictus XI, is disheartened and shocked to hear of any occurrence where children of God are at each other's throats for blood. The incidents to his east bring only a future of calamity."

The Pope tipped his head to one side. "That sounds like nothing more than a diplomatic statement, Biblius, what is the need for mention of a bull?"

The foreign adviser raised a finger and smiled. "The lands on the precipice of war are to the direct east of one of our more amiable friends, the Redcliff Empire, and cover some very strategically important positions for the rest of the inland sea. If they were to fall countless followers would likely die. So, I believe his Holiness should make a papal bull, declaring a 'State for the Protection of the Faithful', in which any nation incapable of providing evidence that it makes provisions for the people - occupied or not - who adhere to our faith will be requested to bring in papal forces, alongside any others from other nations in the flock, to set up relief zones to supply the people with basic food and water." The room was brought to a standstill by the proposal. Nobody said anything, finally a rather fat man at a far end of the table coughed slightly.

"And what, foreign adviser, are we supposed to do if the pertinent nations view this as a declaration of war?" He sniffed slightly, causing the moustache under his nose to ruffle.

"Military adviser Hillard, if you had been listening you would know that the bull requires that-"

"Enough." The Pope said firmly, speaking up now on the matter. "Hillard is correct, what you have proposed is, for all intent and purpose, a blatant declaration of war. Something that will unbalance the scales of the continent and force us into a very tight and dangerous corner. No, make the diplomatic statement alone and make no mention of a papal bull."

"Of course, your holiness, whatever you think is most wise." Finally the room seemed to be out of business for the morning and so with padding feet on beautifully polished stone, the Pope was left to his own devices in the small hall he used to conduct business. In this serenity and peace of solitude he took out a smaller piece of parchment and begun to write.

"Later that night...

The foreign adviser, Biblius Massa, let out an exhausted groan as he pulled the shoes from his feet. Letting them drop beneath his bed as he lay back onto the pillow. It had been a long day, the new Pope had given him the role with a clear directive in mind but he realised now he'd gone about it too zealously and made a fool of himself amongst the much older councillors and advisers. He needed to be more shrewd. Giving a passing glance to his desk, as he did before he went to sleep each night, he was surprised to see a small letter sealed with wax sitting atop it. Standing again and making his way to the work station he noted the papal sigil on the wax and quickly opened the letter to read it.

With trembling hands the foreign adviser closed the note. The tone was clear, the Pope would do for no failure here and steeling himself he drafted his first message. By the time he did finally let himself rest, the candles had burned to almost non-existence.
@Romero Yellow is fine by moi!

((Note: I have assumed a pseudo-Christianity exists in this realm and so hope it is not too presumptuous to take on their nation.))
<Snipped quote by gowia>

my god your alive, welcome back man

A lot has happened, my man. I've been studying, working and living. But, I miss my NRP and this looks like a good one to come back to.
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