Melancholic Arch-Dictatorship of Vale

"I was born of the womb of a poisonous man Beaten and broken and chased from the land But I rise up above it, high up above it and see I was hung from the tree made of tongues of the weak The branches, the bones of the liars and thieves Rise up above it, high up above and see Pray to your God, open your heart Whatever you do, don't be afraid of the dark Cover your eyes, the Devil's inside..."
 * - 'Night of the Hunter,' by Thirty Seconds to Mars.

Welcome to Vale, my child. Welcome to the rolling, scenic hills, the bright fields of the White Rose, the blessed glow of the Dales. Be at peace here, and allow your fears to be banished by the blessing of the Lord. Please, walk with me.

Allow me to introduce myself; I am Jacob Brythsyn, the Prophet of The Voice. I am the one that The Voice has ordained to lead this great nation, in God’s stead. It is a burden that I must carry, carry alongside my own stigmata that are etched onto my skin, and the scars that have long since burned themselves on my immortal soul. The Lord and The Voice have tested me, tested me at every avenue, and they continue to do so, so that I can earn their love, and be at peace, and bring peace to the fallen and the desolated, the lost and broken. My faith has been tried, but I stand stalwart in the face of the devil’s will, and my flock stand by my side. Not everyone in my flock are able to stand with me, but even the weakest lamb is guarded by strongest rams. But lo; not all carry my faith within them; Many, even within God’s Own County, reject my Gospel, the Word of the Lord as ordained to me by The Voice, when it showed me the path in my most wretched hour. I pray for those wayward souls, who know not of my immortal blessing. I pray for the Quartzes of the South, whose souls wallow in the bitter sin of Apathy; I pray for Ms. Chelmsford, of the fighting Witworths, who has burdened her soul with an ocean of Envy, who has darkened her mind with hate, and stained her hands with violence. She has rejected my call for Council many a time before, and I fear that it is too late to save her broken and bitter soul. I pray, oh Lord in Heaven do I pray, for the lonely Owl, King Jowan, for his soul is corrupted and overrun with the voice of the Devil, disguised as his deathly muse. We will save the Owls, as we have saved the Elf-folk that lie within Vale, and who have heard the call of the Voice. We will save them. And lo; I pray for all of them, every last one of them; I pray, and carry their heavy burdens within my heart, just as I carry the burden of my flock and of Vale deep within me. The Voice calls to me, and me alone, and I answer, I obey. I march to the Words of the Lord, and I shall carry the burden of his Word alone.

But now, Child of Vale, you must be tired. I can read the sin that has nestled itself away in your heart, the guilt that stains your face. Please, allow me to save you, let me speak of my Gospel to you, and you alone. Let me pray for you, and give unto me your burden, your faith. You will not be Fallen, you will not be Desolate, for you will be saved. Accept my immortal blessing, for we stand before the Call of The Voice. I am just a Prophet, so I do not see all, but The Voice knows all, my Child.