Part 1: An account of a past battle
It was a time without suffering, it is indeed an incredible time. It is when scholars rejoice when great man roamed his kingdom, when the great beast of wonders is free, when those dwelling within the four seas rest in peace and harmony. The battle that has once stained this tranquil realm has marks that has long faded away, fading away, into the sunset, into an abyss of people's mind, long forgotten, long furlong, and forgone. What is left within these wounds are the springs of hope, is a new kingdom, lead by a new ruler, who passed new laws, and bring forth a new world, a renewed one. I was with him, the divine savior, when all of such has started, when the world is torn into chaos, when those that are blasphemous as attempted to rebel, to resist us, to resist our purification! But alas, they are gone, gone I say!
The past is a gruesome one, it is a terrible one. It is when corrupt officials extend their filthy tentacles into the pockets of every peasant, every prole, every worker, every laborer. They have contaminated the air around them, with their presumptuous spirits, and their conceited manners. Our god, our true lord, the divine nick, despises some. His benevolence cannot cover what those have done, one their disgraceful actions. He has risen an army of thousands, convincing those that are skeptical to join to his side, and to those that are faithful to him to swear to his allegiance. The world is originally cynical, unconvinced that, and I take leave to say, little nick, with his little army and little supplies, could alter the world. Yet, they are the ones to be prove wrong.
In the beginning, my hopes were swayed, that I am unsure of whether our miniscule forces could withstand the battalion of resistance. I have once asked him: “Oh, the great nick, though are intentions may run straight, and our moral be strong, how come we defend ourselves, how can we withstand the forces of tyranny and treachery!”. The holy one merely looked back at him. Smiling, saying: “These are merely the forces of the blasphemous, they stood no ground against our army! Our numbers be thin, our strength be weak, yet our resistance not be futile. Soon, others will see, others will hear. We shall unravel the intrinsically vile nature of our enemy. Soon, they shall be alienated, soon, with enough determination, those forces shall be conquered ”. Still, I remained skeptical, responding : “yet, my good lord, are those that you speak of enlightened enough, are they able to see through the veil and lies and deception that the modern world imposes, and to join our side?”. He merely responded: “If those that we aim to protect are entrenched within their own blissful existence, were they to be contented to be used as tools, they would process no value within redemption.”
The first horn of war has been blown. Our forces be swift, and, with great capacity, and glorious leadership under our true savior, the divine nick. As swiftly taken over the city. Under his steeds of steel, what is once renowned a safe haven has fallen, fallen from grace within the public views, fallen from his status of being treacherous. The actions of Nick be swift, and within mere hours, north America has fallen, fallen into his righteous hand, the divine nick. As the tides of war has turned, more followers have been gathered. The divine nick welcomes them all with open hands, greeting his comrades with the utmost respect. It is by this that his forces has grown, his fleets became great, his forces boasts in strength, his silos filled to the brim with the most advance of the ballistic missiles.
Soon, The Devine nick, along side his magnificent army, has made great progress. Through his men’s arduous labors, through many nights deprived of slumber, through many days entrenched within fear, fear that they shall get shot, impaled, or reduced to ash, our divine savior has liberated the lands of Eurasia from the tyranny of the previous government, has brought forth independence within the lands of Africa, and have enlightened those that have once disbelieved him. The divine nick, with his great army, has asserted control over a majority of our planet, and a new age followed.
Part 2: In the halls of the holy nick
Within the halls of the Holy Nick, great riches await those that deserve them; Within the halls of the Divine Nick, horror inducing torments met with the odious ones; And within the halls of the Supreme nick, within that throne situated atop the carcasses of those that have fallen, under the scarlet banner of treachery that terrifies those that persisted upon the mortal realm, rests upon the skull of the blasphemous.
The hall of the Holy nick is a wonderful one: It is a place where great scholars and those that processes great wisdom resides. It is a place where those nobles rejoice, where those sacred bathed within baths of gold, where the laughter of children lingers around the great pillars, constructed out of only the finest of materials. Upon the throne sat the holy nick. A charming fellow, who is smiling, smiling to the crowds of people that wishes to see him, smiling to those that have done great deeds, and smiling to those that have corroborate his empire
The hall of the Holy nick is a grave one. Were one to commit any atrocities, to wrong anyone within the halls of the holy nick, to demonstrate the slightest of vile intentions, and to worship the Blasphemous devil, the Hall of the holy nick shall become their pandemonium. The Solemn Guards, the diligent investigators, the bland priests and bishops, the parading crowd, is ever watching, not resting, unrelenting, scanning those that dare to enter with the coldest of looks, shedding off a sense of great dread.
The hall of the Holy Nick is a dreadful one: it is where the condemned dwells, where the shadows rested; It is the place where the most sinful lives, and where the most blasphemous are punished. To those that are unfortunate enough to venture into such an abyss, the most gruesome punishment awaits them. They are to be liberated of any ailment, be deprived of their sanity, be drained of their life blood, be severed into many pieces, be thrown into the pits of vermin, be roasted upon an open fire, be pierced by rusted daggers, be impaled by the fangs of their counterparts, be entangled with wires of steel, be extracted of their memory, and be gnawed by those of the deceased, while others watch, watch as their fellow blasphemous get reduced to dust, watch as their organs are flung out of their body, watch as the chamber they dwell in get tainted within blood, watch as great beasts tear their friends to shreds, and watch as their acquaintances take leave to free themselves from this world.
After the War, I have once again returned to the halls of the holy nick. And there, upon the throne, sits the divine nick. Still young, jubilant, vibrant, I have asked him yet again: “Victory is ours, the elder regime has fallen, and a bright future stands. Those that are faithful has reaped their rewards; those that are blasphemous are reaped of their rewards. So tell me, oh, holy nick, how is one to run such a vast empire?”. Our divine god merely smiled, and pointed towards the halls of the holy nick, pointing to those that bathed in gold, and those that bathed in blood. He then pointed at the great library, with magnificent creature roaming its premise, guarding its ever expansion of books, and the pyramid, where the most benevolent of missiles and most cruel of torments are installed. I merely nodded, and, upon leaving the halls of the holy nick, give one last smile of content towards holy nick, to which he responds with a nod.
Part 3: The rise of the blasphemous
I traversed far from the halls of the great nick, into a tavern yonder the halls. Word ran that man of great wisdom resides there, and man of great blasphemy dwell there. To venture there is to allow fate to guide one, to, by chance, either be greatly enlightened, or to be contaminated with the filth of the blasphemy. After a weary day’s of work, it is only by nature that one shall go forth into such a tavern, dismissing the rumors that he has heard.
Within the tavern sat the bar tender, a rather stout fellow. With years of weathering and an unending list of arduous task, he is reduced to no more than is mortal flesh, and his soul, his mentality, his state of well-being has long faded, faded away into dust. Besides him sat someone, to whom I cannot recognize.
I have requested a pint of the man’s finest of wine. The benevolence of the bar keeper is indeed perceivable, for, alongside such a beverage, lies a slice of bread, though stale, still tastes rather good. Just then, the bar-tender spoke to me. He wields a frail voice, and the sound is barely perceivable. His conversion with me is long, what he has spoken of his of words of greatness, and, once I have emerged from such an encounter, I am someone renewed, someone, who processes a new look upon himself. Whilst we are engaging within our conversation, the local priest enters the room, appearing to show great intentions to preach the inhabitants of our establishments.
The priest states, in a peculiar manner: In a time before uniformity, when the shadow loomed, when the heaven was ridden with the stench of socialism, and the earth littered with extreme Bolshevism, when the birds followed the obliteration of the self, and the beasts entangled with political unrest, our divine, our savior, descended from above, by the name of Nicolas III. Nicolas III, restrained by his current status, with great actions in his hands, and great thoughts in his mind, sought out to change the world, for he is the Enlighted, the only Enlighted, for he has struck in perfect harmony with the world around him. He has unraveled and unentangled the art of art, the patterns in its complex mess; the laws and truth in its unimaginable form; and the deeper beauty within what is already considered a masterpiece. He has found it in himself, within his great self, to educate us, to make us as enlightened as he is, to make us escape the path of repetition, make us rid ourselves of the pestilence, make us free as the beasts in the meadows, make us shine brighter than the morning star, and to liberate us from the torment, that has made us suffer for generations. Nicolas is not a mere mortal, not the one that has conjured wine out of water, not the one that has sought out enlightenment within a cave or under a tree, nor the one that has split the current. No, he is much too different. He is the one that found a truce with nature, that has found the ultimate answer, and that is art. Art, my dear friends, is the cure. Art is the sustenance that has rid the divine of all of his suffering, doubts, and worries. Art has freed us from what once loomed as a great threat and once stood as the corrupted world which we lived in. It is because of this, that Nicolas III, has become Holy Nick, and it is as Holy Nick that we shall refer him …
I retorted, stating that the aim of the divine nick is not to preach, but to uniform, it is to establish a greater community, to foster hope into the world. I stated that the divine nick is a mere mortal, and that, as it pertains to mortals, processes flaws. Yet, such are easily overlooked. I stated that his is merely a priest, a communicator, a bridge and a mouth piece between the divine and the general public. He has no authority, never had, and never will in the future, process such right.
The baffled priest simply looks back, shedding a view of discontent. He merely snorted, and glances at me with discontent. Stating that I am the blasphemous one, that my mere presence is stench to the world, that my words are nothing but mere contamination. The discontent which arise from his mouth consist of the greatest of insults, and pleasurable greetings to all of my parents, for telling his love affairs to my dear mother.
I retaliated, by stating that the priest speaks not of the truth, that lies runs from his mouth as a water leaking from a dam, that the acquaintance in which he process with the ideology of our divine savior, holy nick, shares an inverse relationship from the times he fornicated with his mother, and the subsequent descendants yields from such intimate activities.
The priest, therefore, not pleased by me pointing out the obvious fact, escalated the situation to a great extend. He has thrown, with great force and accuracy, possibly as a result of his countless target practices, towards meself. What within the name of sweet heaven, has this beast of great bunder done? The cup which he wields has shattered my looks. I am a man renewed. I feel, a sudden surge of power, coursing through one’s veins: The power of the great penetration. With a great insertion, a multitude of colors has sprang from one’s hand, depicting pictures of a great herd of wild horses, trampling over the fertile plain known as the priest. The whole tavern has been reduced to ashes. I have decided to reserve such drastic measures in times of great needs after such.
At that time, I dreamed. I dreamed about lush laurels and of our sweet countryside; I dreamt about the tranquility of the village, of the man singing, laboring within their fields, chanting merrily has they harvest their crops. And then, there is devastation. I saw the hooves of steels of the empire riding into the village. They rode with great speed and agility, they pillaged, slaughtered, and kidnapped the villagers. They plunder asunder and left a trail of blood and devastation. Then, a voice, deep in tone yet rich in nature bellowed behind me. It commanded: "Bring forth an army worthy for a fight, Bring forth a force that shall rival the Empire, and Bring me the decline of the empire". I complied
The war, the blasphemous priest. With my new looks, new appearance, under the disguised of a damaged shell, one has sworn vengeance upon the empire that I myself has assisted creating. Let there be chaos, let the sacred war be waged! Let this regime, this regime of corruption, this regime of pure vileness, this regime that is inferior to the dark ages within 1984. I believe, that, with the blasphemy of such a priest, one shall rebel, shall sway and topple one’s own creation. Today, we shall rise! We shall not fade into darkness, fade into nothingness, fade into the people’s mind. This is not an event that shall fade.
Part 4: The first army
The shadows are rising, the darkness shall once again loom over this tranquil territory. An army has slowly been as ambled. Armed with the finest of firearms, they shall march in synchrony . They shall emerge victorious, for they are under my rule, my decisions, my leadership. I shall not let my people suffer the same fate as the previous resistance, on how they are crushed by the army of the divine nick. On the night before the battle, when an army of thousands has been assembled, one of my man requested that I made a speech, to which agree.
I have stated: “My people! My loyal, respectful troops! We have long been fed up with the tyrannical rule of the so-called Holy Nick. Yesterday, we are detested. Today, we shall rise up, we shall take a stand. And tomorrow, we shall emerge as victors or as piles of dead-body. One shall not rot, one shall not rot within the slums, not within the graves, nor within the halls of the holy nick. No, we are the ones overseeing it. We shall watch, watch in great enjoyment, while our opponents rot, rot in the same places designed for torment! We shall win, and when we win, the injustice shall be no more! So, let us march into the capitol!”
“My army! We have no fear, for endurance shall be the least of our concerns! We are to march through the hills, we are to march through the valleys. Through storm and blizzards we shall withstand. Through hunger and starvation, we shall endure. We are to rest within the darkest of caverns, we are to run through the bullets and ballistics, for, in the words of our own foe, Holy nick, these are the mere forces of the blasphemous, and cannot hold of our steeds of justice. So, let us march into the capitol! ”
The crowd ruptures, all but one. He questioned, with the look of an unbeliever, stated: “How come you obtain the authority to state such? How did you master the confidence that you shall be victorious towards the fight towards the our enemy? We lack the personnel, we lack the weapons, we lack the necessary endowments.”
I silenced him
With that, our army, with the desire to victory, marched through
Part 5: Songs of the Minstrel
(For the Viewer's note, the following part is written not by the original author, but instead is an excerpt from a minstrel, heared to sing such)
The hooves of the steeds of the rebel
The army marches on to the capital
Forever marching, advancing…
The monotonous thumping, the monochrome footsteps
We still march on
The gunshots of the artillery of the Empire
He who commands the crimson horde,
He who bellowed the winds
As the army of the non believer and the army of the holy nick clashed together
We still march on
The torrent of warfare, the ballistics,
The army of the holy nick
Strong in their minds and flesh
Endured be their morale, charged at the army of the blasphemous
We still marched on.
Missiles flew, ballista descend into the flesh of the enemies
The rebel leader draw out his sword
Avenge your brothers, avenge your comrade he yelled
Let the ground be stained of our enemies blood
So We charged
Gunshots rung
As the great leader of the rebel draw out their sword,
As the second great war once again ignited this epoch with jubilant
As brothers of war draw out their swords and cried for their lost comrade
The Titans crashed upon each other
The sun unrelentingly scorched the battlefield
Bunkers blistering, machines melting, firearms flaming.
A rebel troop has enough of it
Sick of war, armed with a rifle and a bag of vodka
He charged into the enemy font, and get reduced to ash
Emotions soured
Seeing a fallen comrade, entrenched with great passion,
The army of the rebels, with their rifles loaded, their last wishes made
We sang, they drank, they bid each other abbey
And then charge into the enemy line
The crooked truth, the tormenting reality
The strength of the empire is too strong to match
Our puny sticks are no match for their missiles
Outnumber, outcompeted, outbidder
Our moral fall, and begins to retreat
Night has descended
The empire partied, drunk their guards down
While we, the rebels, the teller of truth
Endured within the gruesome night
Many hoped to desert
The rebels drew loaded their cannons, mounted their steeds, and polished their sword.
We are the rebels
We shall defy the expected
The camp of the empire shall be raided.
Tonight, we charge
Shots fired
We charged towards are enemy
Great vibrant colors burst from our leader's palms
The empire’s forces is swiftly defeated
And surrender be they
Within what once stood a prosperous field
A lush one, a fertile one
Within what once stood a land of great sustenance
Lays the remains of war fought by the none
Lays the remain of their past
There is no celebration, no victory, no hoorays in the crowd
As they watch, the result of war
There is no excitement within the eyes of the crowd
For we are the victims of conflicts
For Our leader is dead
The man moaned for their lost ones
They moaned for their lost comrades who dead in the chaos
They moaned for those that gets to share the last shots within their bottle
They moaned for those that got impaled by bullets, so that their lives are saved
And they moan for their leader, sacrificed himself, to save his man
But alas, We cannot get swayed by their tragedy
But alas, We must put away their sorrows their griefs
We returned to their village, their towns, their old homesteads
We have but returned
We have won, but at great costs
Thus concludes the Tale of the blasphemous one, written by non-other than Archer the blasphemous One, who assists within the creation of Nickism. A noble man, who fought with Divine Nick, raising the religion to a new height. Who is a good friend, a loyal companion. Yet, upon the influence by some unknown forces, and upon being given some unknown abilities, is swayed to join the other side, by which shall be referred to as the Pestilence. A worthy man, who sacrificed himself in the mist of a battle to save his comrades. Tis a shame that he is converted to Blasphemy
May history remember him as both noble and treacherous.