The Silver Tower on the shores of Totensee

Where the plains of the heathens meets waves of an inland see, lies a town. A town named for the son of Krim. Not Livare, the soulless, but His second son.

Majahi Hamare Majahi!

In the name of Yoham they built a tower of pure silver. There it stands tall on the shores, shining ever gray!

Hail that monk ancién!
He who danced with death!
Yoham!
You have grown old!

Ayem Ayem Ohm!

From the eastern wanderer Ville, wild and wailing, we have this song, which may well bring us to the silver tower and tragic monk:

Pray for Livare
Pray at Hamare
Pray at that Temple to Truth

Walk for Livare
Walk by the seashore
Walk through the fields

Sing for Livare
Sing for each fracture
Sing for that broken soul

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Peddie, the Rhubarb Buffoon

Yet all I wanted was Rhubarb, Rhu- ub – ba – arb!

– Peddie, jester at the Nerich court

plantofthebuffoon

Peddie is known as a figure of utter tragedie. His fall from academic roots into utter despair works as a warning to all those who think they are beyond the reach of un-logik. 

Peddie was born into a stable family, his mother and father both of academic professions. He was raised well and found love in the spring of his life. But the flames of his fiery relationship soon dwindled, and He was left all alone.

In adulthood he found some comfort and satisfaction in spirit, yet his lost love kept tormenting him. Why did she reject him then? Why did she reject him now?

His sorrow kept him from keeping employment. He sold his possessions, and took to acting and jesting to finance his ever increasing needs for the only comfort to be found, those only-soothing spirits from far Moravia.

In the end he became neallocate, an unallocated, a jester at the Nerichina Court, thus completing his tragic journey to madness.

Yet all I wanted was Rhubarb, Rhu- ub – ba – arb!

– Peddie, neallocate, tragedie

Who is Jacob Krim? Was Jacob Krim arrested? When was Jacob Krim arrested? What was Jacob Krim arrested for?

It is said that the word criminale had a sweet tune to the Mures townsfolk, and was believed to be a word of sanctuary, not evil.

from Our Fable of Malevolence

Who is Jacob Krim?

A question of grandeur indeed! He is the first and the last! The father of Livare, Lynn and Hamare!

He is everything that is good or morally neutral.

He is Logik in all its forms.

Was Jacob Krim arrested?

In Mures, in the Americas! In the dreams and hopes of all who embrace the  un-logik!

They would put Jacob Krim in chains – oh, you simple men … You may well try to bind down the winds, to constrain the execution of abstract-time algorithms, to satisfy through foods and drink the gruesome Nerichina. A parody, farce, a tragedie!

Everywhere he was arrested, but no prison, no whip, no wall or stony ceiling, can encompass the Krim.

When was Jacob Krim arrested?

When is a word for those of limited time. But for Krim Rosu, time is but a valley. For Jacob Krim, time is a mossy stone or a rotting tree-trunk, a killer crow or Becherian spiritus. In his eyes, all things are clear and simple, like glass!

That some rich ruler should hoard treasure in castles of cruelty; that some red rebel should redistribute this wealth and leave crumbling this False Keep of Twisted Algebraics – what does it matter to a man who swims the rivers of time like the fresh fish of Mures?

He was before! He is now! He will be after!

What was Jacob Krim arrested for?

A criminale (Majahi-na-Majahi) He is.

A criminale He ever was!

Therefore all evil forces will forever attempt to contain Him and attempt to hide Him from His loyal followers. Yet arresting Him will always be in vain, for un-logik will never be victor!

These are valid questions, all. But who are we to judge validity?

You gave yourself to the fisherman 

Oh, Flynn… Quality of our service…

Oh, you are mobile, young Flynn. Many-arm’d!

Oh, Livare, art thou octopus?

For Livare, he fell to see. Was he octopus? Unholy, ungodly, many-armed? Oh, oh, oh Livare Managing! Oh Papist Mongrel, so old, so young! Ancién! Yoham, have you no shame! Shalom!

And he sang, for Moskwa hath not tears:

Of field immortal,
Of ever-fertile ever-healer!
Oh, Livare, vast! Vast! Immense! Vast.

And he cried, mother of Flynn, thin-thick bosomed, for he had no soul. He was Livare, Livare he was. MAJAHI!

Cry for Livare, #pray4livare, our sorrow

The only mistake…
Krim ever made, yet Livare liveth.
Is he alive?

Waldemar von Broten in Life and Unlife

prayforlivare

In 1804, the European summer lasted for almost 200 days.

Waldemar von Broten sprang from his mother’s womb already a learned teacher. Yes, this was in wooden Bavaria; dense Bavaria; Bavaria dark. As a child he lectured the village-people in Krimean thought, so greatly inspired by divine secrets, and such a divine secret himself. Soon our Professor von Broten ranked among the great academic minds of the time: A welcome guest at any University or place of teaching, his perspective from pure, Krimean truth always a joy to his peers. This was the Life of Waldemar von Broten.

waldemarlife

“I know the Krim, for he saw me.  I saw the Krim, yes, he knows me!”

As the last days of 1849 passed with slow snows and crackling hearths, a darkness came over Waldemar von Broten. Wandering the familiar road of unspoiled wonder and discovery, von Broten found his way blocked by a wicked creature void of soul: it said its name was Doubt. Every word of Doubt pierced von Broten to his bones:

waldemarlivare

“You know me, von Broten, though we have not yet met. I am that legend unnamed, but feared. I am the Tragedy of Creation.”

Yes! It was Livare, the soulless, that had come upon von Broten from the holy teachings. (For no writing, no matter how wise, no matter how true, is free from inherent un-logik). Von Broten rejected now these teachings, spoke violently against the Krimean ways, and with every day his mind grew weaker. That once so potent beacon of Krimean light was dulled: a parody, a tragedy. This was the Unlife of Waldemar von Broten.

waldemarunlife

Oh, Stigaie! Ayem, ayem, ohm! Take me away now, take me into slumber. Translate me, rotate me and translate me again, for I am already gone …

Delegations bearing the Banner of the Bear came to Bavaria from the far forests of Romania. They were soulless men, too, as pale and bleak as the Carpathian sky of their homeland. When they at last returned to their unholy keep, von Broten traveled with them.

In the damp, southern spring of 1859, Waldemar von Broten passed on to the Black Sea and night eternal.

The sins of Peer Nerich

etnic

The ever presence of the Mountain is now felt everywhere in the hills and forests of Transylvania and Szeklerland. People of different letters are quarreling, succumbing to Nerichinan pressure. Hate and violence are inserted into the Monster Graph. We are in desperate need of a Transylvanian Circumvolution.

The sins and evils of Peer Nerich are indeed eternal…

Written by Herman Ploppel jr. , March 1990

Capitals of Moral Decay & Nerichian Unlogic

frau-mures-on-fire
How the maidens fell…

#Mures2021 is no more. And heaving learned more of the election process and EU commitees, the Targu Mures Historical Society is glad indeed: Targu Mures shall never again be a capital of such horrible unlogic and rampant corruption.

Never shall the organized evil of the moral decay touch that Mures Magic Mystery!

Make no mistake: This is the war. This is the battle. Krim shall soon enough call on his soldiers!

Adryan Nerich

Children of Mother Argentine

In the southernmost realms of the continent Nouus Orbis, there lives a people of limited culture. Not true children of America, like those worshipers of old Manco, also their appearance is not like the pale of Europa, nor as dark as that of Africii (as so many others in this part of our World). Who are they, these children of mother Argentine?

unaviodable?

Yet for their insignificant cultural development, one can observe certain Krimean traditions. Maybe most in their longing for lands they claim stolen, yes those Insulele Falklandia (or Las Malvinas, as they say). Their life on those Pampas grasslands also mimic aspect of the Krimean cultures on other great steppes.

Sons of Mother Argentine
Children of Mother Argentine

We know of the Migrations of Jacob Krim, and his ever chase to outmaneuver and hinder those Nerichian ideas to get a foothold in this New World. Even though there are few direct evidences of his presence in these southernmost lands, the children of Mother Argentine shows signs of knowledge of the Great struggle and the Apocryphal Logic. Both a Krim and a Nerich must (at some point) have been there!

A Sense of Relevance

In ancient times, much greater days, the Mures Valley was the most prosperous region in known Europa, envy of every province, target of every greedy intent. Under a benevolent sky reigned a benevolent King. The King brought glory and fame to his clans, promising eternal life for their name and kin; lasting relevance. Lasting, that is, until this relevance was taken from us.

mureslord

Take pride, Muresdol, in that King. Remember him now that he glimmers most faintly.

Slaying the Nerich Bear

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Targu Mures Coat of Arms

During the harsh centuries ruled by the Nerich clan, many evil men and beasts had employment in the Mures Valley. Some argue that the most brutal of all was the bitter, but ruthless Torben “Bear” Nerich.

Torben, originally from the Principality of Hanover, traveled to Transylvania to harvest Almonds. However, once he arrived he found other tasks; those of violence and hatred.

The bitter bear was beloved only by the whining and very weak willed women of the windy Valley. But he was hated by any with strong will and opinion. United under the banner of Petru Major, the Mures mob slayed the Bear. His head pierced by the sword of a red rebel. The uprising is celebrated to this day…

nerich
The Nerich Bear

Targu Mures Historical Society