Forsaken Frontier of Fort Praesidium

[GoRRiK]

*From A Worn Wooden Stool Deep Within The Cathedral Walls A Lumbering Red Monk Scribbles Upon Paper Mumbling Prayers To Himself*

Do we truly sit upon the forsaken frontier of our time? It seems all hope fades as the lanterns light blows in the breeze. I've seen new souls come and go from this fort we all call home. Some wonder aimlessly off into the wilderness while others perish in conflict from the passions of our flesh. Many of their tongues flow absent of their cultures and homelands. Most certainly washed up and consumed by the land that is Fort Praesidium.

Have our passions consumed us so deeply even our leaders lock themselves away. My mere monk eyes see many of armed guards without action. Our home becomes lawless as our governing building doors are locked and sealed tight. Only grumbles heard beyond the doors let us know souls still shelter beyond them. My most beloved congregation how have we fallen to such a lawless and passion filled state.

I sit deep within the church hearing little more than armor making a racket as I pray. The cries to our Lord are not heard by ears of man. Have we lost the will of our Lord? Have we become so consumed he no longer hears us?

Where are our leaders to worship and lead our forsaken fort? Where is law and order to push heresy and crime from our walls? Where are those faithful to establish his will? Are we forsaken washed in the times to wither away alone and consumed by passions? The wealthy and fat hold tight to their wealth and strangle hold on the fort. Where shall we find peace and change in these forsaken times. Forgive me all who read this as I have certainly failed you as well. May the Lord guide me swiftly to help all faithful redeem our Forsaken Fort.

May the Eight protect and preserve you,
Hieromonk Otis