of Tulips and Birchwood

Valle Waling was wailing in agony as he awoke, his nightmares had tormented him yet again. Who was that olde Witchmaster in his mare-dreams?

Tulip fields and windmills near Rijnsburg by Claude Monet
Tulip fields and windmills

Valle lived his life among flowering tulips, calm canals and wonderful windmills. Yet his dreams of horror were set in another land entirely. A land of darkness, a land of frost and and deep deep forests.

In his dreams he once saw a mighty Birch-tree, it stood lonely on a frozen field. The skies were (…) There was something carved into the tree, he walked closer and he saw the name “Matteo”.

Suddenly day became night,
and the birch-tree was in flames!
He was approaching, yes,
the Witchmaster was there!

Valle awoke, wailing.

Winds blew, windmills turned and the tulips danced. But for Valle, every night was terror, and every day was waking agony. When would it be over? Sun would rise, summer would come, and again turn into autumn and winter. And the Witchmaster would torment him in his dreams.

Valle would walk aimlessly among the tulips, neither asleep nor awake. Days and nights were one, and he saw no other escape than death. Valle took his knife and opened his wrist. As his life emptied onto the ground, he felt the power of the Witchmaster diminish. His mind was clearer, he would soon be free! He laid down among the tulips, yes, it was finally over. As he closed his eyes, he saw the shadow of a figure standing above him. He opened his eyes one last time. The lands froze, it was Matteo the Witchmaster!

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The Cursed Isle Gurskaya

Off the northwestern coast of ancient Pikkyia, beyond the forests of Finnish northlands and across the Dictum Borderlands, lies a bleak and barren isle. Once splendid and spiritual, now a wasteland of unholy prayer; once bountiful, a land of plenty, now only supporting the poorest of diets (of roots, of bark, of hollow vegetares). This is the island of Gurskaya and its Temple of the Arch-Angel Mykyle.

Monk of the Holy Ortodox temple of Myklye
Holy Monk of the Holy Ortodox Temple of Arch-Angel Mykyle

Fuj to my conquerors! Fuj!

In times past, the orthodox monks of Holy Ortodox Temple of Arch Angel Mykyle were the most prominent scholars of Jacobian philosophy and wisdom, in all the Tsardom and beyond. Their leader, Yoham Stariy, devoted his life to the studies of Krim and Logiks true, granting divine blessings and boons to their northern isle.

That would all change. A young and well educated priest called Jurii came to the temple, and with him a companion called Matteo. The monks welcomed their guests with traditional foods and drink, blessed upon the alter of Mykyle! Jurii ate, but Matteo did not.

yoham-the-elder
Yoham, ancien!

Are you not hungry, friend Matteo? Yoham the Elder asked.

Yes, Matteo looked at his food and sighed. Then, as every sage and squire beheld him, he rose and pronounced his name was Nerich! It was clear to all, then, that un-logik had entered the most Holy Ortodox Temple. Yoham screamed, his hair turning to sparkling silver, his skin growing tight and brittle. He fell to the ground, too old ever to rise again.

The younger monks took to mournful song and prayer:

They may burn our land,
take our nourishment,
tear down our shelter.

In vain I say!
Hollow, hollow!
Hallow, hallow!

For our souls are forever blessed
Blessed!
by that Arch-Angel
Mykyle

But the Taxiarch Mykyle had betrayed them, for even that Arch-Angel had fallen to the wicked un-logik, to the Nerichian spell of Dark Matteo. To this day Gurskaya lays barren and abandoned …

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

What does the algorithm say? Is it within?

On contemporary politics and pertinent journalism, a dark cloud of unlogik descends. Right ∨ Wrong is cast aside in unsound relativism, replaced by Nice ∧ Pleasing, resulting ultimately in ¬(Soul ∨ Spirit ∨ Justice). How foolish it is to cast aside the one true source of truth, which has been accessible to Man for centuries:

I yelled. Yes! Like Ingo!

What did he yell? You know, yes, that knowledge exists within you. It is within. That source, that fountain, that great light of the world, He is Krim.

Can Nerichian unlogik encompass the totality of or even apprehend a single ray of that glorious light? Any system of Reason & Doubt built on its perverted inferences will never achieve universal understanding, and lead only to lies and despair. This is the Algorithm of Fallen Modernity, current ruler of this world, sick and base judge, unrelenting Algorithm, and the Algorithm judges:

No, this is not within!
Abolish these words of insight!

Yell all you like,
your thoughts I will smite.
I reign in all Capitals
of Moral Decay!

No, none of this is within!
Abandon your prophet in red!

Pray only that you (that we) have not yet fallen victim to this process of Nerichian indoctrination, of Spirit-surgery, of irreversible deconstruction …

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!

Slaying the Nerich Bear

Coa_Romania_Town_Marosvásárhely.svg
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

Involvement of the Nerich clan in the ethnic clashes of Târgu Mureș

1990_Marosvasarhely
Târgu Mures during the ethnic clashes

The ethnic clashes of 1990 is one of many sad chapters in Târgu Mureş’ proud history. Situated in Transylvania, at the borders of Szeklerland, the Mures Folk speaks many languages and belongs to many cultures. To honor this, our patron Jacob Tepec founded the Cultural Palace, where he amongst other praised Hungarians and their qualities (reactionary and Nerichian scholars of modern Romania argue that this was simply a display of black humor), and held several exhibits showing important Romanian and Slavic folklore. However, the open-mindedness and multiculturalism of Tepec became less normal, peoples of different letters felt that their pride and lands where stolen. And the long dormant Evil of the Nerich Clan was woken once again.

Without the involvement of the Nerich clan, the disputes and quarrels would have been peacefully solved by discussion and debates at the very Cultural Palace. But the wisdom of old Tepec did not penetrate the anger of the Nerich-infected minds. Many people died.

etnic
A sad chapter (cultural palace in background)

Krimean Heresy in the Islamic State (IS/ISIS)

krimisis
Artist’s impression of Krimean archeological treasures. What is buried in the Syrian sands?

Ancient cities, Ancient Kingdoms, Krimean connection. El-Fahir, Holy Algorithm. Nerich, Syria traveler. Early Krimean cultures.

These are notes in the margin of the Holy Qu’ran belonging to an unfortunate fighter in the Syrian war. The Targu Mures Historical Society is surprised indeed to receive such words from this war-torn corner of the earth. Yet we will be wise to remember Krim’s eternal attributes and wide influence – growing ever wider!

We hope to devote more time to this new avenue of research in the coming year, and pray for the emancipation of the Syrian people and their Krimean treasures.

Ovi Dänânae, Targu Mures Historical Society