The Chronicle of His Holy Nick

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 reside. It is a place where those nobles rejoice, where those sacred bathed within baths of gold, and 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 corroborated 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 lifeblood, 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 the 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, and vibrant, I have asked him yet again: "Victory is ours, the elder regime has fallen, and a bright future stands. Those that are faithful have reaped their rewards; those that are blasphemous are reaped 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 creatures 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.