Peer Nerich – A Soul of Eternal Violence

During the dark years of the Nerich reign, few men were feared more than the vicious Peer “Mountain” Nerich. As the commander of the castle dungeons he became the most experienced and gruesome torturer the Mures Valley has ever seen. As the nephew of Lord Gregorius, he obeyed his uncle and master in every task. He happily did his work with great joy and fantasy. His methods ripped many soul apart, making them scream of agony, suffering in both body and mind.

His methods of torture were many, some aimed at the mind and soul and many at the flesh and gut of his subjects. But at his worst he ripped it all apart, sucking and squeezing  every trace of life out of his victim. The agony of the victims lasted for days, or maybe weeks, before the relief of death. One could tell Peer both true and false, good or evil, but his  work would not stop, and ones body and mind were mistreated until the very end.  The very fear of Peer made the Mures town folk silent and submissive.

The Mures town folk still dread Peer Nerich and his wicked ways, although he is believed dead. But his body was never found after the Krim uprising, and there is whispers that his evil soul still lurk in the darkest forests, waiting for a new opportunity to serve his master and rule the Mures Valley.

It is still said that his blood was not red, but black as the darkest moonless night.

Adrŷan Nerich – Historian –  Targu Mures Historical Society

Folanés Folley

Folley

The man went to eat Vea.
Then he sat in a grove of crow, and he speaks:

“He thought to himself:
Will think of crow kill you?”

A man who turned his horse,
so is the economy at home.

Listen to what my husband ask:
When the tree it is?

I drove it not to blood.
On crow he swore to kill him.

Oh, I heard the greatest shame!
Did you hear that Raven can kill a person?

But the crows came in into the house and cried.
And the man who crawled the hole.

A man who drew his bow to knee,
so straight a shot he fell.

It’s so interesting, it leads Folané.
But the Raven, he cursed them all.

It’s so interesting, it leads Folané.
Crows who flew into the barn floor.

The skin thus produced twelve pairs of shoes;
best couple he gave his mother.

As Salty told “as drums and barrels,
and transmission is ones Christmas”.

Intestine, has twelve twisted pairs of wires.
My hand and head to fork is stuck.

Account used in the temple vessels.
So people can fly in the sea.

Im Mu’n use; “may Maya gain
and his ears are right” will probably tutor.

In his eyes, life is like glass.
His neck and saw, “depends on whether the church with dignity”.

Children are used as the crow.
It is not a straight value!

Poem from Matrice de Granit, interpretation by mystic Jacob Becher; literal translation by Stanislav Peev.

From the diary of Jakko Krimälainen

Spanned by the Granite Matrix

14th of March, 1828.

Discord breathes forth from the walls of my dwelling. I cannot sleep. It resonates with the pulse of my past wrongdoings. It tears my flesh and flays the spirit.

17th of March, 1828.

For a week now I have been denied proper rest, no sanctuary offered. I have torn to pieces that tome which I once revered and whose spell seems to have entered my very bloodstream. Who are you, Yanchal Krimeli? Show yourself, for I can take no more!

21th of March, 1828.

Last night I had a vision. The phantasm as I clearly recall; a stranger of angelic stature pulled me from these haggard mountains and lulled me to sleep in a most balm garden, rich with almond trees and soulful quiet. I am at peace. Never again shall I practice occult combinatorics.

The remaining pages are blank.