Post by Deleted on Jan 22, 2017 13:22:39 GMT -5
January 17th, (CURRENT YEAR)
8:23 PM
Dag’s Estate
Near Portland, OR
The bitter darkness of the early nights in the Pacific NorthWest makes it presence felt not through shining through the windows of Dag’s SUV, but by absorbing into its essence the absence of light. Seen through the lense of a camera equipped smartphone, a simple candle illuminates Dag’s bearded, gruff face as though a kidnapped victim was beholding his captor in clear light for the first time. The grave stoic stare intimidating the camera works to advance this narrative. It would not be any measure of a stretch to imagine this man capturing and torturing someone in a dark, isolated, small space for a prolonged period of time… considering he’s done it on a number of previous occasions.
“This Sunday, I am facing two women who are capable of extreme physical violence, and I’ve experience firsthand what they are capable of. Lilith and I have done things to other living beings which frankly I didn’t know I was capable of, let alone that little seemingly innocent cutesy girl. Cheyenne is new to WCF, yet I also have been there for her coming out party as more than just an angelic face. She pounded Vinnie’s head like yesterday’s steak and showcased her work for all the world to see. To say these are troubled ladies would be an understatement. But just how cold and ruthless are they really? Let’s find out!” Dag points at the camera for some reason.
“I will start with Cheyenne, the new, enigmatic member of the WCF roster. She claims to practice wicca and be in touch with the dark arts. I believe this is a twisted interpretation of her ancestral roots which have been bestowed upon he, but corrupted by the relentless perversion of western ignorance on Pagan rituals. I could tell from the first moment I laid eyes on this woman that she has Swedish ancestry, and a pure bloodline at that. She could have been a model for the perfect Nordic female, but her exposure to the toxic west has poisoned her mind and her understanding of her own culture.
“To deny wicca’s origins in paganism would be like denying the motorcycle’s origins in the bicycle. Everything young Cheyenne practices is little more than a collection of lies told by Christianity about paganism. When the desert religion invaded our homeland, the land where our forebears had made thriving cultures independent of outside influences and flourished under our own identity, they laid desolate our very way of existence. They desecrated our idols, destroyed our places of worship, and erased our history. They needed to attempt to eradicate all forms of resistance against their imperialistic authoritarian religion.
“They washed away our code of honor and depicted us as savages who engaged in barbarism at the whim of a lust for alcohol and women to rape as we pleased. They whitewashed our sophisticated understanding of nature and her workings, scribing us as primitives who dreamed of Odin striking a hammer to bring thunder through the skies. Most heinously, they archive us as worshippers of the forces of the anti-christ, imagining bizarre stories of blood sacrifices, goat offerings, and rituals of death. Any records we had created to deny these obscene accusations were burned or shattered, and all we had left to preserve ourselves was word of mouth.
“Lovely Cheyenne, you are being made into a puppet. You have no understanding of the utter futility of what you do. Witchcraft is not what your ancestors would want you to waste your precious time with on this earth during your time in current incarnation. You risk dishonoring the legacy of those who came before you with blatant disregard for what they did for us. If you continue believing in the lies propagated by western society, you are spitting in the face of the most glorious culture to ever grace the Earth.
“Wicca is nothing but a fairytale of nonsense made up by the Christians to make our traditions look foolish and nonsensical. By partaking in these charades, you are also making a fool of yourself. You come off as uneducated, ignorant, and malleable when you actually believe in lies dreamt up and chronicled in a book as though they had some legitimacy. Every time you eat a cockroach or worship the Horned God, you engage in heresy and blasphemy to the true natural deities, and personally insult me as well. You don’t realize how serious these offenses are to my fellow sons of Odin, and I will punish you for your offenses if you continue to deny the true ways of the world.
“You should embrace your true origins, the ways and practices of your forebears. Hundred of years ago, your ancestors hailed Odin and thanked Baldur for the light to guide their way as they embarked on conquests and raids to bring glory to their name. Perhaps one of them even earned the honor of being buried at sea, their treasures a gift to Valhalla. Yet here you are, making a mockery of their sacrifice! You are partaking in satire with the intention of being viewed as ‘edgy’ or ‘badass.’ It only shows that you are a hopeless puppet.
“You try to make yourself unique and special, a standout, but just like all pathetic cases of the mentally insufficient, you do that by molding yourself to fit into a specific group of people. How can you be an outcast when you do whatever you need to fit in? You are hardly any different than an angsty teenage emo who writes poetry about their heart bleeding black blood or some bullshit. You need help, Cheyenne. I thought this was just an act that couldn’t possibly outlast your in ring debut loss, but now I see you just may have been indoctrinated into this horseshit. You were easily eliminated from your only match, and now you think aligning yourself with Lilith will be the boost you need in your career? That’s borderline neurotic.
“Have you even taken a moment to look at the state of your tag partner? You, Cheyenne, could be saved, if I tried hard enough. And I want to try, miss, I really do. It’s not much of a secret that you are beautiful, despite your disgusting habits, and you deserve better than a life of lies, deception, manipulation and degeneracy. You should be pure, and I can deliver the cleanser to your soul. As I said, you should live my life, the life of a true Nordic. As for Lilith, I’ve seen what she really is. She is nothing more than a sociopath.
“She is a liar, a deceiver, a manipulator, and a degenerate. I’m not surprised she found you in whatever hole you were wasting away in, nor that you were so easily taken advantage of. You are abnormally susceptible to outside influence young lady, and you should know better. As a woman of Scandinavian descent, you should be strong willed, capable of independence, and able to harvest, hunt and provide for the community. This is the way that propelled the Nordic race to its glory, and you are a disappointment for allowing it to die off inside if you.
“I must give you some credit, though, because were it not for your instincts, you would be a completely hopeless case like Lilith. Unfortunately for her, she does not bear the results of hundreds upon hundreds of years of superior breeding and genetics. Her mind is that of a child and her physical appearance that of a half-inflated blow up doll. She has no signs of pure blood, and being white with exaggerated sexual features is pretty much the only thing she has going for her. Compare yourself to her, Cheyenne, and see your own future. That is what you have to look forward to if you continue down this disgusting, vile path. What shame it would be to allow such a wonderfully beautiful and pure woman like yourself to become entirely incompetent, revolting and psychopathic.
“Lilith has spent the better part of the last few months hopping between boyfriends for her what she thinks is in the best of her own interests. She has a long history of herself being taken advantage of, and I can’t say I’m very surprised in that regard. From the beginning, big names like Logan and Sarah Twilight were the first to intrude upon her emotions and play her like like Donald Trump plays an imaginary accordion while giving speeches. The most pathetic thing about her relationship with Logan was realizing how badly she was being used and leaving him, only to fall into a ludicrous lesbian relationship with Sarah Twilight, who was stringing her along as a tool to further her own career as she found herself more romantically attracted to a man who called himself Skittlez. Skittlez! Sad!
“I’m sickened by you, Lilith. You allow yourself to be passed around like a disease ridden joint in this shitwhole of a city. You slept with Jared fucking Holmes for crying out loud! You clearly have no moral compass, no sanity, or presence of mind to even understand the decisions you are making… You’ve lost seemingly all control over yourself. You are better at controlling Cheyenne than you are yourself. I will not allow you to spread your madness like a sickening plague. You must be put down and your corpse vaccinated like the rabid animal you are. You must no longer be allowed to be a threat to my future goals for humanity. People like you are infectious, attracting followers desperate for their empty heads to be filled by someone who knows how to use their insanity.
“My future is pure, chaste, and simple. You could not survive within it, so ending your misery now is the only humane solution. I am nothing more than animal control, Lilith. I am the force to end your ravages. I’ve dealt with far worse in the past, and I’ve conquered them all. I ended the careers of countless competitors in WCF, from Jordan Caliban to that drunk Scottish bastard no one remembers the name of. I’ve even helped end the career of your sister, whether you acknowledge her existence or not. You are nothing like her. You are not even as capable of sinister actions as she was. You are a shell of her, a wisp of wind through her shadow overpowered by her ass stench. That’s an overstatement of your place in the world. You are pathetic. This Sunday, before you even get the chance to challenge Teddy for MY title, I will end your career as well.”
January 19, (CURRENT YEAR)
5:49 PM
Rentable Spaces
Spokane, WA
Dagvald Riddik and his unlikely accomplice, the man known as Psychopomp, step through the doors of the Union of Eurocentrists PNW Chapter Quarterly Meeting in a nondescript publically rentable warehouse space. Dag steps in with over earing arrogance and comfort with his surroundings, while Pomp has no idea what he’s been dragged too. He tries to be as inconspicuous as possible.
With ten minutes to the start of the meeting, the leader of the chapter steps up to greet the brand new member. Having history donating to the organization and clearly being a legitimate activist for the cause, Dag was given plenty of special privileges in his first official month as a member. One of these included being allowed a plus one in Pomp. He introduces his tag partner with a bogus name all three are aware is for the benefit of each of them.
“This is Zach Daflik, a close, close friend of mine. He’s excited to be here, aren’t you, Zach?” Dag turns to face Pomp with a smug look on his face.
“I, hum, sure?” Returning a still confused look at Dag. “I think I remember you saying that there would be snacks here.”
The president of the chapter, Ødelagte Kjeder, reaches to shake Pomp’s hand, who awkwardly accepts. The man picks up immediately on the unexpectedness of the gesture and the weakness it creates in the reciprocated action. Regardless, only Dag knows enough about typical Norwegian body language to pick up on this. Ødelagte still beams a warm smile to Pomp and greets him happily. “God jul, my friend! Of course, plenty of libations, for what is a Nordic meeting hall without a feast fit for the gods! Please, won’t you join us? Oh, of course you will, for you are here, and ready to begin, I am sure! And Dag, right on time! Looking forward to your first meeting, I am sure!”
Dag and Ødelagte continue exchanging niceities as Pomp nervously shuffles his feet. Finally Dag motions him to follow him to a seat. “Now, Pomp, I need you to listen closely to everything these men say. They speak on behalf of the people of Europe, and inside you, I am certain, flows the blood of a proud European ancestor. Someone who risked their life to spread their ideology and traditions to the New World, and now it is your responsibility to carry on their glorious culture. Not only will you be awakened to the truths of the world, you will see how disgusting our opponents really are for abandoning these things. Understood?”
Pomp blinks twice to process all that information. He’s still unsure of why he accepted to join Dag. This man is the complete opposite of him! Damn those tasty snacks that were promised to him. “I think I’m part Iroquois but my great-great-great grand-mother might’ve been Finnish. Would that count?”
“Finnish! Well, they’re sort of the redheaded stepchild of the Nordic family tree, but Nordic nonetheless! Iroquois… nonsense, aren’t you from Toronto? And I can hear the accent breaking through. Nevermind it, having a long history of being on this continent just means you aren’t very pure blooded, but you do have ancestors who came over at some point. Either way, I believe you’ll find the truth in the speeches given today to be self-evident. It’s likely I’ll have to explain them to you anyway, but do try and pay attention, eh?”
Pomp’s typically indifferent demeanor is abruptly shaken by Dag’s dismissive tone. He looks his future tag partner in the eyes, but quivers almost imperceptably at the intimidating stoic stare facing back at him. “Don’t make fun of me Dag! I’m willing to give a shot at working with you but i’m not stupid like Lilith, understood? I want payback for what they did to me and my brothers and if this is what i have to do to make it happen…” his voice goes low as he remembers what the Sisters of Fate did to him and his friends, and he leans closer, weighing the seriousness of his words and their potential consequences, “I’ll listen to whatever they have to say.”
Dag is slightly surprised to hear the clearly malicious intent vibrating through Pomp’s words and ringing around the room in vibrations too hushed to be heard by anyone not close enough. “Oh, come now, I wouldn’t make fun of you. Why would I agitate my own tag partner? Surely if I want you angry at anyone, it’s our opponents. Don’t worry about little old me, Pomp, just pay attention. Look, they’re starting!” Dag pats Pomp on the back and points to the stage as a middle aged man with long red hair and goatee stands at the podium.
Pomp stared at the man in front of them and turns to his new partner “Is he from Finland?”
Dag is almost insulted at his neighbor’s ignorance. “Goodness, no! Behold his red locks, broad chest, powerful shoulders, he is clearly Swedish! That’s Blodigt Svärd, the son of a brave veteran who volunteered for the Norwegian army during the Second World War. My grandfather may have fought alongside him in the battle for Oslo, I just haven’t confirmed this yet. Either way, shush, and listen!”
“But you said, red hair, Finnish people…” with each word, is voice got quieter and quieter til hefinally just gives up on it and listens to the war hero tell his story. Dag buries his face in his palms and tries to refocus on the speech.
“Ah, yes, so important, brother! Did you hear that, Pomp? His father died to defend his nation from authoritarian rule, and the Nazis never even invaded Sweden anyway. That was a man who wouldn’t wait for destruction to come knocking on his door, but rather, he found destruction and confronted it head on. That is what we are here to do, Pomp. Lilith and Cheyenne are like uneducated children with no proper understanding of what they are fighting for. Like the Nazis, they think they are helping their cause, but they are screwing it up so badly they just doom it to fail. We must drive them to insanity with defeat after defeat, and only then can we proclaim ourselves free of their madness. Make sense?”
He thinks long and hard at what Dagvald just said. It did ring true to him, Liltih had been trying to get into his head for months now. He wanted to be friends with her, help her. But all he got in return was a chair behind slammed against his back and being ambushed by the sisters. “I want this win as much as you do but she’s gone off the deep end. Do you really think losing will make Corpse bride and her minion Carrie more ‘crazy'?”
Dag laughed to himself at the notion that their opponents’ insanity couldn’t be used against them. “Let me make this easy for you to understand. What drives Lilith right now is this handy little thing called hope. Hope drags her along through the mud, on a barbed wire rope, forcing her to keep going when she’d rather have just given in ages ago. No matter what reality shoves in her face, or the dark truth of her desperate situation making itself painfully clear, she refuses to acknowledge this as long as she can lie to herself. She isn’t the first to do so, either.
“You may remember two maniacal dictators who were in power at the same time in history, Adolf Hitler and Emperor Tojo. They never stood a chance to begin with, and yet they fought on. They convinced themselves beyond all reasonable doubt, no, beyond absolutely any denial whatsoever, that they were destined to conquer the world, no matter what the facts said. Years upon years passed by, and they racked up victory after victory, only cementing their entirely irrational devotion. So, when reality caught up to them, they were so entombed in their false sense of security they refused to acknowledge the ultimate defeat coming to them. They looked to every single tiny victory against their enemies as a sign of coming changes, as though their fortunes were only temporary and they would one day again achieve the sweeping successes they had in the first days of the war.
“Finally, when there were no victories whatsoever, the illusion of hope simply dissolved into the night. There was nothing to lie to themselves about. All hope was lost. When they realized this, that everything they had done was being wiped away by the tides of reality, they had nothing to live for. Hitler committed suicide, and for a jap, Hirohito’s surrender was just as unbearable, if not worse. Even the most psychotic, broken, devoted madman has his breaking point- and this applies to women as well. We can break Lilith once and for all, and send her spiraling into oblivion.”
Pomp didn't want to admit it to himself but the more he talked the more it made sense to him. Was he actually agreeing with him?! “But it’s not just her, Cayenne broke Kidd's arm, Dag!” Slamming his closed fist in his opened one. He shakes the numbness from his palm “ So what’s your plan? This is their first match, your idea of using their insanity and hope against them sounds good in theory.”
Dag smirks. “Oh, this is indeed a long term plan, my brother. But for the short term, such as strategy in this specific match, I think we’ll need to keep listening.” Another man takes the podium, but he is younger, perhaps early thirties, with black hair and beard. He introduces himself, and gives a speech on pagan values of self reliance, purity of heart, living for honor, and embracing your roots as Nordics. He especially went into detail about how modern life in America and other liberal nations goes against this entirely.
At the conclusion, Pomp has his jaw hanging, not sure how to process what he’s heard. Dag claps fervently and engages the Psychopomp, “Don’t you see? It’s all right there! Everything we need to win this Sunday! Cheyenne is defying everything her forebears lived for by allowing herself to be made into a puppet for that insufferable Lilith. I’ve already gone over this in length on a video I made, but as it pertains to this match, here’s all we need to know.
“The more reliant Cheyenne is on Lilith, the better. Whenever Cheyenne wants to tag in Lilith, we must allow her to do so, whenever Lilith tries to intervene while Cheyenne is tagged in, we must not try to stop her from getting in the ring, though of course we must avoid her blows. When Cheyenne looks to Lilith for advice, she must be allowed to receive it. We practically need to go easy on Cheyenne. She is just another misguided, charity case millennial as Erik just said. Lilith is her welfare state provider. We need to undertake the goal of the modern globalist plutocratic conspiracy, and allow our enemies to become dependent on a centralized system, then assume control of that system, and therefore all of its dependents. We can allow Cheyenne to become a dependent of Lilith, and then we must incapacitate Lilith entirely. Think of it as creating a snake out of the two, with Lilith as the head, and then cutting off said head. The whole rotten abomination will cease to function entirely. Understood?”
Pomp scratches his head, he’s certainly learned a lot of new words there. Not the meaning of all of them but enough to grasp the long explanation. “So let her depend on Lilith, and break Lilith so that the other crumbles. A classic case of divide and conquer if I do say so myself!” He rests his hand under his chin, thinking to himself again, “I like this plan.”
Dag gains a bemused look. “Well… well no, that’s, literally the opposite of divide and conquer, I just said we allow Cheyennet to symbiotically attach herself to Lilith so that she is incapable of operating without her, and then we decapitate the system so that we only have to take out one to defeat them both. I don’t know how you missed that, but hopefully you got it the second time around. Anyway, I believe the next speech will tell you everything you need to know about my mission, and the shared goal of everyone who has gathered here today.”
A beautiful young woman takes the stage, with blonde pigtails resting upon her shoulders and descending down her breasts. She is adorned in traditional Icelandic dress, with delicate, ornate designs woven into a fabric dress. She comes across shy to have all eyes on her, as though they wouldn’t have been even if she wasn’t at the front of the room behind a podium. Her grace is majestic, and her humility is humbling. This is a woman every man in the room would die for, not as a lover, but as a symbol of their ways of life. Finally she speaks into the microphone with a quaint, small, and cute voice, with just the right amount of accent.
“H-hello, my name is Emilíana Davidsdottir, and I’m pleased to be here with all of you. My topic today is the protection of our hearts, of those who keep our traditions and culture alive, and prepare us for carrying on this mission far into the future. I speak of course, of the women in our society.” Applause from the audience. She clears her throat. With her next breath, she breaks into a frenzied, ferocious, and devoted near-roar, as though she is a mother bear defending her cubs. She preaches the importance of homemakers, child bearers, harvesters, gatherers, providers of care and decency to a family, and a warm, gracious heart to balance the warrior blood coursing through the men of Nordicism. Hey shyness is gone as she finds comfort in the undeniable truth of her message and devotion to fighting for her cause.
“The women of our homeland are in danger! Every year, hundreds of thousands of illegal, violent, primitive migrants invade our country at the behest of our corrupt leaders in an effort to undermine us, the true lifeblood of a successful society! They speak of tolerance, sexual equality and women’s rights, yet they trample on any woman who was born white in those countries in favor of savages who conceal themselves behind veils to cover the bruises their men impose upon them. They sicken me, their husbands sicken me, the politicians who brought them sicken me, and I am sick of being sickened! I am revolting against their alternate reality of peaceful multiculturalism, and I will stand up and fight!”
This speech goes on like that for a long time, perhaps thirty minutes, until finally the poor little woman seems almost out of breath. Yet even in her exhausted words, there is still a fiery passion to be found in the near hushed tones and urgent rhetoric. When she finally concludes, everyone gives a standing ovation. The vice president of the chapter ascends the stage to thank her, meanwhile, Dag takes the opportunity to talk to Pomp once more.
“Dear brother, if that didn’t expose the truth about Lilith, Cheyenne, and white genocide, I don’t know what will. Listen to me when I say, the Sisters of Fate are two victims of fate itself, without realizing it. I can see it in their eyes and their actions. They have been abandoned by the careless administration, and have taken it upon themselves to attempt to make up for this. They have been told they are victims of an imaginary system, meanwhile, they have been held down by those who tell them this. They were born in the wrong skin, so to speak, and now they must be punished for their whiteness. If they were any other ethnicity, Lilith would not be running around digging her fingernails into people to make a buck, and Cheyenne wouldn’t be bathing in a disgusting bathtub while feasting on cockroaches. They have been abandoned for the imagined sins of their fathers, and they continue to fight for the system that steps on them.
“I tried to awaken Lilith to her master, but she would appear to prefer remaining a slave who simply knows she is enslaved. She has been too corrupted to understand what to do with the knowledge I have given her. She is a hopeless case. As for Cheyenne, if we can just break her free from her own master’s chains, then perhaps she can yet be salvaged. I could allow for her to realize her glorious Nordic identity, if only we can liberate her first. Would you be willing to support the salvation of someone who has done you wrong?”
“I don't know...Week after week they’ve targeted me and my family. I don't’ know if i can Dag. I don’t understand why she’s acting the way she does but i’m not going to let her continue. I’ll do what i have to do... to protect them.”
“Yeah, sure, that’s why you’re tagging with me this week, the guy who’s going to put Kidd Krazzy out of action next Sunday. But that’s not big deal, the enemy of my enemy is my friend, right? Of course he is! Anyway, the conference is over, my friend. Splitting the fare again, eh? We’d best hurry before traffic picks up.”
Dag hurries out of the meeting hall after giving customary farewells to the organizers with Psychopomp following closely behind, grabbing a handful of traditional Nordic snacks, then wincing at them and deciding it best to leave them.
8:23 PM
Dag’s Estate
Near Portland, OR
The bitter darkness of the early nights in the Pacific NorthWest makes it presence felt not through shining through the windows of Dag’s SUV, but by absorbing into its essence the absence of light. Seen through the lense of a camera equipped smartphone, a simple candle illuminates Dag’s bearded, gruff face as though a kidnapped victim was beholding his captor in clear light for the first time. The grave stoic stare intimidating the camera works to advance this narrative. It would not be any measure of a stretch to imagine this man capturing and torturing someone in a dark, isolated, small space for a prolonged period of time… considering he’s done it on a number of previous occasions.
“This Sunday, I am facing two women who are capable of extreme physical violence, and I’ve experience firsthand what they are capable of. Lilith and I have done things to other living beings which frankly I didn’t know I was capable of, let alone that little seemingly innocent cutesy girl. Cheyenne is new to WCF, yet I also have been there for her coming out party as more than just an angelic face. She pounded Vinnie’s head like yesterday’s steak and showcased her work for all the world to see. To say these are troubled ladies would be an understatement. But just how cold and ruthless are they really? Let’s find out!” Dag points at the camera for some reason.
“I will start with Cheyenne, the new, enigmatic member of the WCF roster. She claims to practice wicca and be in touch with the dark arts. I believe this is a twisted interpretation of her ancestral roots which have been bestowed upon he, but corrupted by the relentless perversion of western ignorance on Pagan rituals. I could tell from the first moment I laid eyes on this woman that she has Swedish ancestry, and a pure bloodline at that. She could have been a model for the perfect Nordic female, but her exposure to the toxic west has poisoned her mind and her understanding of her own culture.
“To deny wicca’s origins in paganism would be like denying the motorcycle’s origins in the bicycle. Everything young Cheyenne practices is little more than a collection of lies told by Christianity about paganism. When the desert religion invaded our homeland, the land where our forebears had made thriving cultures independent of outside influences and flourished under our own identity, they laid desolate our very way of existence. They desecrated our idols, destroyed our places of worship, and erased our history. They needed to attempt to eradicate all forms of resistance against their imperialistic authoritarian religion.
“They washed away our code of honor and depicted us as savages who engaged in barbarism at the whim of a lust for alcohol and women to rape as we pleased. They whitewashed our sophisticated understanding of nature and her workings, scribing us as primitives who dreamed of Odin striking a hammer to bring thunder through the skies. Most heinously, they archive us as worshippers of the forces of the anti-christ, imagining bizarre stories of blood sacrifices, goat offerings, and rituals of death. Any records we had created to deny these obscene accusations were burned or shattered, and all we had left to preserve ourselves was word of mouth.
“Lovely Cheyenne, you are being made into a puppet. You have no understanding of the utter futility of what you do. Witchcraft is not what your ancestors would want you to waste your precious time with on this earth during your time in current incarnation. You risk dishonoring the legacy of those who came before you with blatant disregard for what they did for us. If you continue believing in the lies propagated by western society, you are spitting in the face of the most glorious culture to ever grace the Earth.
“Wicca is nothing but a fairytale of nonsense made up by the Christians to make our traditions look foolish and nonsensical. By partaking in these charades, you are also making a fool of yourself. You come off as uneducated, ignorant, and malleable when you actually believe in lies dreamt up and chronicled in a book as though they had some legitimacy. Every time you eat a cockroach or worship the Horned God, you engage in heresy and blasphemy to the true natural deities, and personally insult me as well. You don’t realize how serious these offenses are to my fellow sons of Odin, and I will punish you for your offenses if you continue to deny the true ways of the world.
“You should embrace your true origins, the ways and practices of your forebears. Hundred of years ago, your ancestors hailed Odin and thanked Baldur for the light to guide their way as they embarked on conquests and raids to bring glory to their name. Perhaps one of them even earned the honor of being buried at sea, their treasures a gift to Valhalla. Yet here you are, making a mockery of their sacrifice! You are partaking in satire with the intention of being viewed as ‘edgy’ or ‘badass.’ It only shows that you are a hopeless puppet.
“You try to make yourself unique and special, a standout, but just like all pathetic cases of the mentally insufficient, you do that by molding yourself to fit into a specific group of people. How can you be an outcast when you do whatever you need to fit in? You are hardly any different than an angsty teenage emo who writes poetry about their heart bleeding black blood or some bullshit. You need help, Cheyenne. I thought this was just an act that couldn’t possibly outlast your in ring debut loss, but now I see you just may have been indoctrinated into this horseshit. You were easily eliminated from your only match, and now you think aligning yourself with Lilith will be the boost you need in your career? That’s borderline neurotic.
“Have you even taken a moment to look at the state of your tag partner? You, Cheyenne, could be saved, if I tried hard enough. And I want to try, miss, I really do. It’s not much of a secret that you are beautiful, despite your disgusting habits, and you deserve better than a life of lies, deception, manipulation and degeneracy. You should be pure, and I can deliver the cleanser to your soul. As I said, you should live my life, the life of a true Nordic. As for Lilith, I’ve seen what she really is. She is nothing more than a sociopath.
“She is a liar, a deceiver, a manipulator, and a degenerate. I’m not surprised she found you in whatever hole you were wasting away in, nor that you were so easily taken advantage of. You are abnormally susceptible to outside influence young lady, and you should know better. As a woman of Scandinavian descent, you should be strong willed, capable of independence, and able to harvest, hunt and provide for the community. This is the way that propelled the Nordic race to its glory, and you are a disappointment for allowing it to die off inside if you.
“I must give you some credit, though, because were it not for your instincts, you would be a completely hopeless case like Lilith. Unfortunately for her, she does not bear the results of hundreds upon hundreds of years of superior breeding and genetics. Her mind is that of a child and her physical appearance that of a half-inflated blow up doll. She has no signs of pure blood, and being white with exaggerated sexual features is pretty much the only thing she has going for her. Compare yourself to her, Cheyenne, and see your own future. That is what you have to look forward to if you continue down this disgusting, vile path. What shame it would be to allow such a wonderfully beautiful and pure woman like yourself to become entirely incompetent, revolting and psychopathic.
“Lilith has spent the better part of the last few months hopping between boyfriends for her what she thinks is in the best of her own interests. She has a long history of herself being taken advantage of, and I can’t say I’m very surprised in that regard. From the beginning, big names like Logan and Sarah Twilight were the first to intrude upon her emotions and play her like like Donald Trump plays an imaginary accordion while giving speeches. The most pathetic thing about her relationship with Logan was realizing how badly she was being used and leaving him, only to fall into a ludicrous lesbian relationship with Sarah Twilight, who was stringing her along as a tool to further her own career as she found herself more romantically attracted to a man who called himself Skittlez. Skittlez! Sad!
“I’m sickened by you, Lilith. You allow yourself to be passed around like a disease ridden joint in this shitwhole of a city. You slept with Jared fucking Holmes for crying out loud! You clearly have no moral compass, no sanity, or presence of mind to even understand the decisions you are making… You’ve lost seemingly all control over yourself. You are better at controlling Cheyenne than you are yourself. I will not allow you to spread your madness like a sickening plague. You must be put down and your corpse vaccinated like the rabid animal you are. You must no longer be allowed to be a threat to my future goals for humanity. People like you are infectious, attracting followers desperate for their empty heads to be filled by someone who knows how to use their insanity.
“My future is pure, chaste, and simple. You could not survive within it, so ending your misery now is the only humane solution. I am nothing more than animal control, Lilith. I am the force to end your ravages. I’ve dealt with far worse in the past, and I’ve conquered them all. I ended the careers of countless competitors in WCF, from Jordan Caliban to that drunk Scottish bastard no one remembers the name of. I’ve even helped end the career of your sister, whether you acknowledge her existence or not. You are nothing like her. You are not even as capable of sinister actions as she was. You are a shell of her, a wisp of wind through her shadow overpowered by her ass stench. That’s an overstatement of your place in the world. You are pathetic. This Sunday, before you even get the chance to challenge Teddy for MY title, I will end your career as well.”
January 19, (CURRENT YEAR)
5:49 PM
Rentable Spaces
Spokane, WA
Dagvald Riddik and his unlikely accomplice, the man known as Psychopomp, step through the doors of the Union of Eurocentrists PNW Chapter Quarterly Meeting in a nondescript publically rentable warehouse space. Dag steps in with over earing arrogance and comfort with his surroundings, while Pomp has no idea what he’s been dragged too. He tries to be as inconspicuous as possible.
With ten minutes to the start of the meeting, the leader of the chapter steps up to greet the brand new member. Having history donating to the organization and clearly being a legitimate activist for the cause, Dag was given plenty of special privileges in his first official month as a member. One of these included being allowed a plus one in Pomp. He introduces his tag partner with a bogus name all three are aware is for the benefit of each of them.
“This is Zach Daflik, a close, close friend of mine. He’s excited to be here, aren’t you, Zach?” Dag turns to face Pomp with a smug look on his face.
“I, hum, sure?” Returning a still confused look at Dag. “I think I remember you saying that there would be snacks here.”
The president of the chapter, Ødelagte Kjeder, reaches to shake Pomp’s hand, who awkwardly accepts. The man picks up immediately on the unexpectedness of the gesture and the weakness it creates in the reciprocated action. Regardless, only Dag knows enough about typical Norwegian body language to pick up on this. Ødelagte still beams a warm smile to Pomp and greets him happily. “God jul, my friend! Of course, plenty of libations, for what is a Nordic meeting hall without a feast fit for the gods! Please, won’t you join us? Oh, of course you will, for you are here, and ready to begin, I am sure! And Dag, right on time! Looking forward to your first meeting, I am sure!”
Dag and Ødelagte continue exchanging niceities as Pomp nervously shuffles his feet. Finally Dag motions him to follow him to a seat. “Now, Pomp, I need you to listen closely to everything these men say. They speak on behalf of the people of Europe, and inside you, I am certain, flows the blood of a proud European ancestor. Someone who risked their life to spread their ideology and traditions to the New World, and now it is your responsibility to carry on their glorious culture. Not only will you be awakened to the truths of the world, you will see how disgusting our opponents really are for abandoning these things. Understood?”
Pomp blinks twice to process all that information. He’s still unsure of why he accepted to join Dag. This man is the complete opposite of him! Damn those tasty snacks that were promised to him. “I think I’m part Iroquois but my great-great-great grand-mother might’ve been Finnish. Would that count?”
“Finnish! Well, they’re sort of the redheaded stepchild of the Nordic family tree, but Nordic nonetheless! Iroquois… nonsense, aren’t you from Toronto? And I can hear the accent breaking through. Nevermind it, having a long history of being on this continent just means you aren’t very pure blooded, but you do have ancestors who came over at some point. Either way, I believe you’ll find the truth in the speeches given today to be self-evident. It’s likely I’ll have to explain them to you anyway, but do try and pay attention, eh?”
Pomp’s typically indifferent demeanor is abruptly shaken by Dag’s dismissive tone. He looks his future tag partner in the eyes, but quivers almost imperceptably at the intimidating stoic stare facing back at him. “Don’t make fun of me Dag! I’m willing to give a shot at working with you but i’m not stupid like Lilith, understood? I want payback for what they did to me and my brothers and if this is what i have to do to make it happen…” his voice goes low as he remembers what the Sisters of Fate did to him and his friends, and he leans closer, weighing the seriousness of his words and their potential consequences, “I’ll listen to whatever they have to say.”
Dag is slightly surprised to hear the clearly malicious intent vibrating through Pomp’s words and ringing around the room in vibrations too hushed to be heard by anyone not close enough. “Oh, come now, I wouldn’t make fun of you. Why would I agitate my own tag partner? Surely if I want you angry at anyone, it’s our opponents. Don’t worry about little old me, Pomp, just pay attention. Look, they’re starting!” Dag pats Pomp on the back and points to the stage as a middle aged man with long red hair and goatee stands at the podium.
Pomp stared at the man in front of them and turns to his new partner “Is he from Finland?”
Dag is almost insulted at his neighbor’s ignorance. “Goodness, no! Behold his red locks, broad chest, powerful shoulders, he is clearly Swedish! That’s Blodigt Svärd, the son of a brave veteran who volunteered for the Norwegian army during the Second World War. My grandfather may have fought alongside him in the battle for Oslo, I just haven’t confirmed this yet. Either way, shush, and listen!”
“But you said, red hair, Finnish people…” with each word, is voice got quieter and quieter til hefinally just gives up on it and listens to the war hero tell his story. Dag buries his face in his palms and tries to refocus on the speech.
“Ah, yes, so important, brother! Did you hear that, Pomp? His father died to defend his nation from authoritarian rule, and the Nazis never even invaded Sweden anyway. That was a man who wouldn’t wait for destruction to come knocking on his door, but rather, he found destruction and confronted it head on. That is what we are here to do, Pomp. Lilith and Cheyenne are like uneducated children with no proper understanding of what they are fighting for. Like the Nazis, they think they are helping their cause, but they are screwing it up so badly they just doom it to fail. We must drive them to insanity with defeat after defeat, and only then can we proclaim ourselves free of their madness. Make sense?”
He thinks long and hard at what Dagvald just said. It did ring true to him, Liltih had been trying to get into his head for months now. He wanted to be friends with her, help her. But all he got in return was a chair behind slammed against his back and being ambushed by the sisters. “I want this win as much as you do but she’s gone off the deep end. Do you really think losing will make Corpse bride and her minion Carrie more ‘crazy'?”
Dag laughed to himself at the notion that their opponents’ insanity couldn’t be used against them. “Let me make this easy for you to understand. What drives Lilith right now is this handy little thing called hope. Hope drags her along through the mud, on a barbed wire rope, forcing her to keep going when she’d rather have just given in ages ago. No matter what reality shoves in her face, or the dark truth of her desperate situation making itself painfully clear, she refuses to acknowledge this as long as she can lie to herself. She isn’t the first to do so, either.
“You may remember two maniacal dictators who were in power at the same time in history, Adolf Hitler and Emperor Tojo. They never stood a chance to begin with, and yet they fought on. They convinced themselves beyond all reasonable doubt, no, beyond absolutely any denial whatsoever, that they were destined to conquer the world, no matter what the facts said. Years upon years passed by, and they racked up victory after victory, only cementing their entirely irrational devotion. So, when reality caught up to them, they were so entombed in their false sense of security they refused to acknowledge the ultimate defeat coming to them. They looked to every single tiny victory against their enemies as a sign of coming changes, as though their fortunes were only temporary and they would one day again achieve the sweeping successes they had in the first days of the war.
“Finally, when there were no victories whatsoever, the illusion of hope simply dissolved into the night. There was nothing to lie to themselves about. All hope was lost. When they realized this, that everything they had done was being wiped away by the tides of reality, they had nothing to live for. Hitler committed suicide, and for a jap, Hirohito’s surrender was just as unbearable, if not worse. Even the most psychotic, broken, devoted madman has his breaking point- and this applies to women as well. We can break Lilith once and for all, and send her spiraling into oblivion.”
Pomp didn't want to admit it to himself but the more he talked the more it made sense to him. Was he actually agreeing with him?! “But it’s not just her, Cayenne broke Kidd's arm, Dag!” Slamming his closed fist in his opened one. He shakes the numbness from his palm “ So what’s your plan? This is their first match, your idea of using their insanity and hope against them sounds good in theory.”
Dag smirks. “Oh, this is indeed a long term plan, my brother. But for the short term, such as strategy in this specific match, I think we’ll need to keep listening.” Another man takes the podium, but he is younger, perhaps early thirties, with black hair and beard. He introduces himself, and gives a speech on pagan values of self reliance, purity of heart, living for honor, and embracing your roots as Nordics. He especially went into detail about how modern life in America and other liberal nations goes against this entirely.
At the conclusion, Pomp has his jaw hanging, not sure how to process what he’s heard. Dag claps fervently and engages the Psychopomp, “Don’t you see? It’s all right there! Everything we need to win this Sunday! Cheyenne is defying everything her forebears lived for by allowing herself to be made into a puppet for that insufferable Lilith. I’ve already gone over this in length on a video I made, but as it pertains to this match, here’s all we need to know.
“The more reliant Cheyenne is on Lilith, the better. Whenever Cheyenne wants to tag in Lilith, we must allow her to do so, whenever Lilith tries to intervene while Cheyenne is tagged in, we must not try to stop her from getting in the ring, though of course we must avoid her blows. When Cheyenne looks to Lilith for advice, she must be allowed to receive it. We practically need to go easy on Cheyenne. She is just another misguided, charity case millennial as Erik just said. Lilith is her welfare state provider. We need to undertake the goal of the modern globalist plutocratic conspiracy, and allow our enemies to become dependent on a centralized system, then assume control of that system, and therefore all of its dependents. We can allow Cheyenne to become a dependent of Lilith, and then we must incapacitate Lilith entirely. Think of it as creating a snake out of the two, with Lilith as the head, and then cutting off said head. The whole rotten abomination will cease to function entirely. Understood?”
Pomp scratches his head, he’s certainly learned a lot of new words there. Not the meaning of all of them but enough to grasp the long explanation. “So let her depend on Lilith, and break Lilith so that the other crumbles. A classic case of divide and conquer if I do say so myself!” He rests his hand under his chin, thinking to himself again, “I like this plan.”
Dag gains a bemused look. “Well… well no, that’s, literally the opposite of divide and conquer, I just said we allow Cheyennet to symbiotically attach herself to Lilith so that she is incapable of operating without her, and then we decapitate the system so that we only have to take out one to defeat them both. I don’t know how you missed that, but hopefully you got it the second time around. Anyway, I believe the next speech will tell you everything you need to know about my mission, and the shared goal of everyone who has gathered here today.”
A beautiful young woman takes the stage, with blonde pigtails resting upon her shoulders and descending down her breasts. She is adorned in traditional Icelandic dress, with delicate, ornate designs woven into a fabric dress. She comes across shy to have all eyes on her, as though they wouldn’t have been even if she wasn’t at the front of the room behind a podium. Her grace is majestic, and her humility is humbling. This is a woman every man in the room would die for, not as a lover, but as a symbol of their ways of life. Finally she speaks into the microphone with a quaint, small, and cute voice, with just the right amount of accent.
“H-hello, my name is Emilíana Davidsdottir, and I’m pleased to be here with all of you. My topic today is the protection of our hearts, of those who keep our traditions and culture alive, and prepare us for carrying on this mission far into the future. I speak of course, of the women in our society.” Applause from the audience. She clears her throat. With her next breath, she breaks into a frenzied, ferocious, and devoted near-roar, as though she is a mother bear defending her cubs. She preaches the importance of homemakers, child bearers, harvesters, gatherers, providers of care and decency to a family, and a warm, gracious heart to balance the warrior blood coursing through the men of Nordicism. Hey shyness is gone as she finds comfort in the undeniable truth of her message and devotion to fighting for her cause.
“The women of our homeland are in danger! Every year, hundreds of thousands of illegal, violent, primitive migrants invade our country at the behest of our corrupt leaders in an effort to undermine us, the true lifeblood of a successful society! They speak of tolerance, sexual equality and women’s rights, yet they trample on any woman who was born white in those countries in favor of savages who conceal themselves behind veils to cover the bruises their men impose upon them. They sicken me, their husbands sicken me, the politicians who brought them sicken me, and I am sick of being sickened! I am revolting against their alternate reality of peaceful multiculturalism, and I will stand up and fight!”
This speech goes on like that for a long time, perhaps thirty minutes, until finally the poor little woman seems almost out of breath. Yet even in her exhausted words, there is still a fiery passion to be found in the near hushed tones and urgent rhetoric. When she finally concludes, everyone gives a standing ovation. The vice president of the chapter ascends the stage to thank her, meanwhile, Dag takes the opportunity to talk to Pomp once more.
“Dear brother, if that didn’t expose the truth about Lilith, Cheyenne, and white genocide, I don’t know what will. Listen to me when I say, the Sisters of Fate are two victims of fate itself, without realizing it. I can see it in their eyes and their actions. They have been abandoned by the careless administration, and have taken it upon themselves to attempt to make up for this. They have been told they are victims of an imaginary system, meanwhile, they have been held down by those who tell them this. They were born in the wrong skin, so to speak, and now they must be punished for their whiteness. If they were any other ethnicity, Lilith would not be running around digging her fingernails into people to make a buck, and Cheyenne wouldn’t be bathing in a disgusting bathtub while feasting on cockroaches. They have been abandoned for the imagined sins of their fathers, and they continue to fight for the system that steps on them.
“I tried to awaken Lilith to her master, but she would appear to prefer remaining a slave who simply knows she is enslaved. She has been too corrupted to understand what to do with the knowledge I have given her. She is a hopeless case. As for Cheyenne, if we can just break her free from her own master’s chains, then perhaps she can yet be salvaged. I could allow for her to realize her glorious Nordic identity, if only we can liberate her first. Would you be willing to support the salvation of someone who has done you wrong?”
“I don't know...Week after week they’ve targeted me and my family. I don't’ know if i can Dag. I don’t understand why she’s acting the way she does but i’m not going to let her continue. I’ll do what i have to do... to protect them.”
“Yeah, sure, that’s why you’re tagging with me this week, the guy who’s going to put Kidd Krazzy out of action next Sunday. But that’s not big deal, the enemy of my enemy is my friend, right? Of course he is! Anyway, the conference is over, my friend. Splitting the fare again, eh? We’d best hurry before traffic picks up.”
Dag hurries out of the meeting hall after giving customary farewells to the organizers with Psychopomp following closely behind, grabbing a handful of traditional Nordic snacks, then wincing at them and deciding it best to leave them.