More from the Directional School Scrolls:

“As the Dark Lord has predicted, the barbarian army marched into the Promised Lands full of hope and vigor.  ‘Take heart,’ their leaders told them. ‘The foe you face is renowned for their arrogance.  They’ll never expect our coming, and even if they do, they’ll think the rattle of their swords will cause us to flee.  We shall not, and we shall defeat them just as did the barbarian tribes of old!’

And the Grand Army did indeed rattle their swords.  But as they marched onto the field of battle, the barbarians saw the fire in their eyes, and they became terrified of what they saw.  Line after line of the Grand Army marched toward them, and all thirsted for victory.  Across the field, they laid eyes on the Dark Lord, and The Mountain was at his side, and although The Mountain wore not his massive armor, the shadow he cast over his comrades was more fearsome than a thousand gilded cuirasses of a thousand golden warriors.  ‘You shall stand here by my side,’ the Dark Lord had told him, ‘And today your very sight will strike fear in the hearts of our foes.  This battle shall you see, but no foe shall you meet, and this will cause your heart to ache anew with a desire to crush all those that stand in your path.’  And with every blow of battle, The Mountain’s resolve grew ever greater, and he developed a thirst for pain greater than he ever thought possible.

When battle ensued, the barbarians fought with all their might against the immovable object that lay before them.  Yet try as they might, the defenses that the Dark Lord had crafted could not be penetrated.  When the Grand Army attacked, little resistence was met.  Very soon the barbarians saw that the the task that lay before them had always been too great, and they despaired.  ‘Little is certain in this, the World of the Great Saban,’ spake one of their generals.  ‘But this much is sure:  the army that fell to the barbarians of old has passed, washed away like the sand in the tide.’

The forces of Saban had soon secured victory, and the leader of the barbarian army was captured, and Saban requested his audience.  ‘Barbarian,’ he asked, ‘what have you learned on this day?’ ‘Most Dark Lord,’ the general replied, ‘I have learned much.  But there is much left for me to learn before you bring me to my end.  I must know before I go to join my fathers…through what horrible magic have you transformed this army, which so soon before fell to our bretheren, into the leviathan which I have so unwisely brought my men to face?’

The Dark Lord descended from his throne, and he stood before the general, who quivered on his knees in front of his conqueror.  And although those who saw it could hardly believe it, the Great Saban knelt also, and he placed his hand on the shoulder of the general.  ‘My friend,’ he said, ‘You shall walk away from the Promised Lands with your life.  Your men that we have taken shall follow you.  You have shown great courage by coming here, and your ambition makes me pleased and happy.  However, you must know that I am also pleased and happy that we have defeated your army and crushed them underfoot.  Yes, you shall return to your own lands, but there is a task I have for you, and this task will enlighten you relative to the question you have asked me.’

The Dark Lord continued, ‘Know this.  Through no magic have I transformed these men.  Only through The Process have these soldiers found their power.  Only through The Process does my greatness grow.  Only through The Process do mountains lift their roots and lead my armies.  Only by The Process do my youths fight like hardened veterans.  Only through The Process has an army turned from barbarian fodder to the most feared force in all the land.  Go back to your home, whenever you stop to rest your weary bones, or to bring water to your parched lips, tell all that will listen that by The Process does the Dark Lord bring neverending darkness to the skies of those that would oppose him, aight?’

Grateful for the unexpected mercy shown him, the general took his men and flew from the Promised Lands.  And every time his men made camp on the way home he would tell all that would listen that the Dark Lord’s power was even greater than had been foretold, and he told them of this thing called The Process, and he warned that any that resisted would be processed just as his own army had been.”

Through extensive research of both the Directional School Scrolls and the Great Tome of Saban, we have found that there is text that links the two documents.  Although the linking text is small, the power of the words are great relative to their bridging the gap between the apocryphal scrolls and the Great Tome itself.

From the Book of the Process:

“And in the second year of the rising of the Grand Army of the Sabanic Republic, wise men spoke of a skirmish between the Grand Army and a band of uncouth vagabonds that came from the far west.  And word of the domination of this barbarian army flew all across the lands, and all the scribes and generals compared the Grand Army to all the other armies of the known world, and they said, ‘The forces of Saban are truly at the top of the mountain.’

And word of these accolades reached the Dark Lord, and he said, ‘While any foe stands, tell me not of these praises, for they are as empty as a 3 week old Debbie cookie box in my castle pantry.’  And he told his men, “Listen not to the great praises that some would rain upon you.  They offer you a crown, but what good is a crown without a coronation?  What good is a victory if the opponent still draws breath?  What good is triumph in a battle if the war yet rages on?  Ignore all these external factors, as we cannot control them.  Look only within yourself, and resolve anew to do all that I ask of you relative to the neverending march of The Process.’”

(Note:  If you think writing for this site is easy, YOU try to sit there and come up with something creative about Arkansas Freakin State, aight?)

From the recently discovered Directional School Scrolls, an apocryphal text which is not formally part of the Great Tome of Saban, but which will be studied in great detail and considered for further addition thereto:

“In the days when the Dark Lord first came to the Promised Lands, and before his Grand Army was organized to his pleasure, his men were waylaid by a rouge band of barbarians who came from the lands even past the swamps and the bayous where the Great Saban had once raised his army of champions.  Though the barbarians were thought to be few in number and weak in spirit, Saban’s men knew not yet the ways of The Process and their competitive desire relative to their dedication to perseverance was still weak, and thus they fell in defeat.  But the Great Saban stood before his people, and he took the brunt of the defeat on his broad shoulders, and he said, ‘Never again shall you see your Army fall in defeat to such a foe, aight?  I would relinquish all the Debbie Cookies in all the world for all my days than to see this shame befall my people again.’

But even in the year of the rising of the Grand Army, barbarian tribes spoke to one another about the shocking defeat, and many chieftains whispered of catching the Dark Lord off guard again and plundering his great wealth.  And one such chieftain made ready his army, but he told them not where they were to be marching, as the Dark Lord had marched to their region that very season and had laid waste to the army of a great general there, and the chieftain feared that his men would lose heart if they knew that they marched to face the Dark Lord in his own abode.

And although few along the path talked of their coming, the Dark Lord sensed that danger approached, and he went to his men and said, ‘My sons, ready yourselves for battle.  Those who fight you will not be the strongest you see, nor will they be the fastest.  Nor will they be the most skillful relative to their tactics relative to succeeding relative to securing victory.  But they shall have heart and spirit, and when they see you their eyes will burn with greed, and their greed shall devour you as I devour my Debbie cookie if you sit there prone, waiting to be upwrapped.  Think not that you fight only this foe, but you fight the hearts and minds of every foe that awaits you!  Unleash all that I have taught you, and may those who hear of your deeds fear The Process, and cause soiling relative to their finest linens!’

And the Grand Army prepared for battle, and the wiley veterans who had lived through the barbarian defeat harshly warned the bright eyed young soldiers that failure would not be tolerated.”

Athenianhound1, a follower of the Athenian Hound who was spared in the days following The Fall of the Great Kangaroo (no doubt because the Great Saban foresaw that he was necessary for this very post) has directed us to this heartwarming clip of one of the Cursed Ones of the Eastern Wastelands being converted into the Everlasting Brotherhood that is the Church of Saban.  Enjoy…but not at work, for some of the brethren, in their joy, used some language which is usually employed only by the Dark Lord when his army displeases him.

From the Book of the Process:

“As it was written in the Book of Foes, The Vile One felt much fear in his heart when he learned of the coming approach of the Grand Army of the Sabanic Republic.  Years before, when his deeds were still praised by his peoples and his armor still needed not extra rivets to contain his immensity, he had sent his spies to the Promised Lands, and he had told them, ‘Though our victories over these people have come easily of late, in that land lies a power waiting to be awoken.  Voices in my dreams have told me that there be a Dark Lord in the wilderness who will one day approach and raise this power anew, and they must be utterly destroyed so that this might never come to pass.’  And idly by did the peoples of the Promised Lands wait, and well did the spies of the Vile One do their deeds, and the Promised Lands were cast into darkness for many years, and the Vile One thought his task to be successful.

Even though the days were dark, oracles of the land whispered softly the tidings which few in the Promised Lands believed.  Terrible had the wrath of the Vile one been, and thoroughly had their spirits been squashed by the mammoth hindparts of that most despicable villain.  But that power which even he sensed, the oracles said, still remained.  ‘It shall never be extinguished,’ they said.  ‘But until the coming of the Dark Lord, it shall be but a twinkle in the eyes of those who had ages ago seen it themselves, and though its fire shall burn ever on, it shall be no more than a spark until the Great One comes.’

And it came to pass that the Dark Lord did come, in those times when the Promised Lands seemed most utterly vanquished, and soon did the people there tell him of the crimes the Vile One had committed against them.  And in the time leading up to the Siege of the Vile One he told all his people, ‘Fear not, for one who has committed a crime against you in times past has now committed a crime against me in the present.’  And when the people saw the Army which had been raised to lay waste to the Vile Mountains, they knew his words were true.

And the Grand Army marched on the Vile Mountains, and to their surprise the eldest battleground was surrounded by great multitudes of those whose robes were bathed in the Crimson of the Grand Army’s armor.  ‘Look around you, young men,’ the Great Saban told his men.  ‘When last you marched in these lands, the people of these mountains donned the colors of the Vile One and they came to see you destroyed.  Now our own people have come to see you do the same, and those that once came to see your doom have not the courage to come see your victory.  You shall prove them wise, relative to their decision to not stand in my path.’  And with this their hearts were made full, and their bodies thirsted for battle.

Many wise men told the masses that The Dark Lord had much to fear.  ‘The Vile One will be prepared,’ they said.  But the Dark Lord had prepared also, and his cunning and power had no equal.  Slowly did he march his troops towards the rocky tops of the hills that surrounded the Vile One’s throne, but ever steadily did they progress towards their goal.  Many foes fell beneath them, and none stood who could challenge the Great Youth and his companions.  ‘Oh, had only The Mountain marched with Saban,’ said one soldier who lay battered at the feet of his aggressor.  ‘Then the grip of defeat would have come sooner, for defeat was sure to come all along.’  And defeat did befall the Vile One, but he would not accept this, and in the end his own peoples struck him down so that surrender could be given the Dark Lord while some of their soldiers still drew breath, and though his people wished themselves rid of him forever his foul stench remained and soiled the very air above them.

And The Dark Lord came before his victorious legions, and he told them, ‘Four times have I marched you away from our homes and to the lands of great generals, and four times have you made those lands your own.  You have robbed them relative to their pride.  You have beaten them relative to their spirit.  Your perseverance has stifled them relative to their ability to resist you.  You have made me pleased and happy, and my pleasure makes my hatred for our foes even stronger.  But know this:  you must continue to do those things that brought us to this point, and you must not lose the drive that pushes us ever on towards our destination.  For we must ignore our appearance, and ever more develop our identity relative to being the obstacle that none dare to try and overcome.’

And the Grand Army swelled with the pride of their win, but they could taste their Dark Lord’s growing hunger, and not a single heart was content because his hunger ignited their spirits can caused them to burn with desire.

From the Book of Foes:

“In the days after the fall of Nutteus, a malaise fell over the lands of the Dark Lord, for his people feared that the previous victory was bought with too high a price.  Early dominance was thrown away, and The Mountain fell, and only through the fierce will of the Great Saban had the Grand Army persevered.  But the Dark Lord came before his people, and he said, ‘Fear not, for though perfect victory it was not, victory it was still.  And do not weep for The Mountain, for he shall fight again.’  And just then The Mountain walked behind him with no aid, and the people rejoiced saying, ‘The Mountain walks again!  Let no chicken go unfried, and may no biscuit be safe!’  And Saban told The Mountain, ‘Go and rest, for this next battle is not yours; but soon your day shall come again, and you shall feast on the fruits of the bayou.’  With this The Mountain went to rest, and Lord Saban went to the rest of his Grand Army.

‘My boys,’ spake he whose wrath is more abominable than 9,000 irate she-bears, ‘The time for us to march abroad is again nigh.  For there is one who dwells to the north whose crimes against us have been great!  Through his lies and deceit has he wronged us, and through his treachery has he smeared us!  His repayment has begun, but I am far from satisfied relative to the pain I wish to inflict onto his sphincter.’  And the Grand Army were glad to have this challenge, and they asked the Dark Lord when they could march.  “10 Debbie Cookies from today shall we go,” saith the Dark Lord.

The tellers of tales and the sayers of sooth soon learned of these plans, and word made it to the Vile One, on whom the ire of Saban lay, and who dwelt high in the northern mountains.  Long had he been believed a great general, but his powers lessened as his very girth grew, and even his loyal followers became despondent under his lead.  And when he heard of the plays the Dark Lord had made, he spake, ‘MEESA PONA KRANTHA BANTHA POODOO!’  And his followers were confused, but they knew from his panicked manner that the Grand Army approached.

From the Book of Foes:

“Word soon spread from the Promised Lands that the Dark Lord had predicted that Houstonus Wildcatus Nutteus would make war on the Grand Army, and wise men of the lands and great travelers and vagabonds made their way westward to see the forces of Nutteus approach.  And at the point where the Promised Lands meet the great unknown territories to the west they saw the Rebel army approach.  Troubled they were at the numbers with which the army marched, and their hearts grew even more troubled when the army drilled and they saw the strength of spirit which they possessed.  ‘We must go to the Great Saban,’ said one man, wise in the lore of the Promised Lands, ‘and tell him that the army that approaches from the Rebels’ Grove is stronger than any we have seen from there in many moons.’  And some of the learned men came to Saban, and they spake, ‘Dark Lord, we doubt not your power nor your wisdom, and we pray you smite us not, but we must tell you of the great army that approaches even as we speak.  Their victories may have been few as yet, but they possess a strength which we did not foresee.’  The wise men then cringed, expecting to bear the Dark Lord’s terrible wrath, but no fire flew from his mouth, and neither did lightning stream from his eyes, nor arrows fly from his most feared nostrils.  ‘My friends,’ spake Saban with a calmness that struck more fear in their hearts than even his rage could strike, ‘You bring me no news, for there is nothing you have told me that I do not know.  Did you hear of how they countered the great Urbanus at every turn?  Did you hear how the tears fell from the Angel Timothy’s eyes relative to the pain in which they inflicted upon him?  I have heard, and their strength I know.  I am pleased and happy that so great a foe awaits me, and I have instructed my men to do the things which have brought us to this point.’  And with this the wise mens’ minds were calmed, but a lingering fear ate still at their hearts.

And it came to pass that Nutteus did march on the promised lands, and the losses by each side were great.  But as the sun rose to the top of the sky, and the birds would have sang had the Dark Lord’s presence not sapped all joy from the Earth, the Grand Army gained the advantage and seemed to have the battle well in hand.  But Nutteus called The Exile close, and said, ‘This is one battle we must win.  Every day, the Dark Lord grows in power.  Victory must come today or never, and thus I shall use all know to defeat him.  Our fate shall be dark if we continue to march straight towards him, but we can feign retreat and I shall trick him.  His strength is great, but my cunning is greater.’  And the Rebels feigned retreat, and the Dark Lord screamed, ‘Trust them not, for Nutteus is the father of all lies and the uncle of all tricks!’  But the hearts of the Grand Army felt victory before them, and they did not heed his words.  As surely as the odor of the Eastern Wastelands pulls even the buzzards from the sky, Nutteus emptied his bag of tricks, and through his cunning his men flanked the Grand Army and drove them close to defeat.  In the struggle, The Mountain fell, and his comrades wept, and the cooks rejoiced.  One whole batallion it took to carry him off the field of battle.  But as he arrived behind friendly lines, he spake, ‘My battle is done today, but I shall return and again blot out the very sun.’  And his comrades rejoiced, and the cooks wept.

More dire grew the fortunes of the Grand Army, and Nutteus screamed with a primal rage when he saw his chance approaching.  ‘TAKE THEM NOW!’ he slobbered.  ‘Their lines are weak, and we shall trample them under foot!’ But the Dark Lord foresaw this, and he went to his defenses, and he called forth a young defender who stood as high as a tower.  ‘Youth,’ he firmly called, ‘Since the rising of the Grand Army you have fought well, but always in the middle of the fight you have been.  Today you shall step forward, aight, and you shall crush their spirits relative to their offensive onslaught falling under my foot and being trampled by my boot.’  Few battles had the youth seen, but the words of the Dark Lord gave him strength, and he flew to the front of the battle.  And the Rebels saw him, and they were upon him, but the power of the Dark Lord prevailed, and the youth stopped them where they stood.  And the Dark Lord was pleased, for he now knew the day was his.

The forces of Nutteus tried to press on, but their spirits were blackened, and in their hearts they tasted defeat where the ambrosia of victory had abounded.  And all that day did the defenses of Saban hold, and Nutteus took the remnants of his great army and journed westward again with only the signs of the Dark Lord’s wrath upon their faces.  And Saban came before his men, and he said, ‘Another lesson you have learned today, my young soliders.  I told you that trickery approached, and yet you did not heed.  I told you that your foe was great, and yet you did not heed.  I told you that you had to remember the things that brought you success in the first half of the battle and do them again in the second half if you wished to save yourselves relative to my wrath that you have now incurred, and yet you did not heed.  I have told you that you must fight the whole battle with the competitive spirit and intensity which are the very air I breathe, and you did not heed.  Learn this lesson well:  When the Dark Lord speaks, the wise man listens, and the fool pays no heed.  Fools you are not, for you are the victors, but fools shall you be if you do not heed me from this day forward, aight.’  And one of the soldiers said, ‘My Most Terrible and Vengeful Dark Lord, why must we change that which has brought us a victory?’ And Saban spake, ‘Child, the foe you faced today was great, but there are greater.  They were strong, but there are stronger.  They were ruthless, but there are more ruthless.  But I am the greatest, strongest, and most ruthless, and if you heed my words relative to doing all it takes to be a champion all victory shall follow you.’  And the soldiers listened well to this message, and they swore that they would do all they could do to satisfy the neverending hunger of the Dark Lord.

From the Book of Foes:

“In the days before the First Great Rising of the Grand Army of the Sabanic Empire, there dwelt a people cast out from the rest of the tribes, and their leader was Houstonus Wildcatus Nutteus.  And he led them for many years, but eventually his people tired of his ways, and they cast him out in favor of the great mercenary general.  Not long had he wandered in until he came upon a great warrior who was also wandering alone in the wilderness.  ‘Brave warrior,’ spake Nutteus, ‘Where is thine army?’  The warrior replied, “I have no army.  I once fought under the banner of the Single Star, but they would not give me command of my own battalion, and I became despondent.  When I complained, I was exiled.’  ‘Then follow me,’ Nutteus told him.  ‘I have no army now, but I shall not wander for long, and when I find my army, you shall lead them.’

Not many days had passed when Nutteus and The Exile came upon a camp, and the army there was in disarray.  He strode amongst them, and yelled, ‘Mighty warriors, where is your leader?’  One of their ranks stepped forward and said, ‘Our leader?  In the depths of madness he is!  We encountered many defeats, and his mind left him!  His wits stayed not between his ears, and his shirt stayed not on his chest!’ Nutteus, sensing his time was nigh, told them, ‘Then I shall lead you in spirit, and my apprentice shall lead you on the field of battle.’  And the camp rejoiced, for a leader had found them who flung not his own waste when angry.  And it was said that they marched to the southern swamplands, and there they met the Angel Timothy and Urbanus Maximus, and they prevailed against all odds.

The Great Saban heard of these deeds, and his concern was great.  ‘Disorganized have these men been,’ he told his generals.  ‘But Nutteus will bring them order.  We must crush their spirit relative to the excitement they feel relative to having a leader who is not mentally ill.’  ‘Dark Lord,’ one of the generals asked, ‘Should we march to meet them?’  ‘No,’ spake Saban.  ‘I know his heart, and I know the hatred that burns therein relative to the last time I defeated him.  He shall come to our own lands, and there shall I be pleased and happy to smite him again.’”

Brothers and Sisters in Saban, we bring to you today a special Monday message.  As you have no doubt noticed, the Eastern Wastelands are in turmoil.  Many of you have long waited to see this, but myself and the rest of the Council had no doubt that such tribulations lay ahead of them.  Why?  It was foretold…

From the Book of the Process:

“For years and years The Great Ears dwelt in the Eastern Wastelands, and he rallied the outcasts that dwelt there to his cause.  And their numbers grew as strong as their odor, and in time their warriors outnumbered the cattle in their fields.  The warriors studied the art of war, and naught else, and the Army of the Ears brought war to The Promised Lands, and those people were waylaid time and time again.

But when the Dark Lord appeared, a great black cloud formed over the Eastern Wastelands.  Those cursed people saw it, and many of them said, ‘We have seen this clouds before, and nary a storm have they brought!’  But some of their wisest elders said, ‘These clouds are the darkest we have seen since The Most Exalted dwelt in The Promised Lands.’

Hearing these elders, The Great Ears panicked, and he cast aside his old ways, and he tried to make his battle tactics anew.  But time after time, his new ways failed, and his followers longed for the armies of years long past.   They said, ‘Great Ears, why have you brought this upon us?’  And he said, ‘It was not I, but the Guru who has forsaken you!’ And because The Guru had come to them with a new voice which they always doubted, they believed this fable, and The Guru was stoned.  Battle came again to the Eastern Wastelands, and again The Great Ears was forced into defeat, and the followers again said, ‘Great Ears, why have you brought this upon us?’  And he said, ‘It was not I, but my field generals who have forsaken you!’  And because they always doubted their field generals, they believed this fable, and the field generals were stoned.  Yet after this the Great Ears was defeated again and again, and he looked around him, and there was no one left to serve to the angry masses, and this spelled his demise.  The people came to him, and he was thrown to the farm animals, and the farm animals knew him, and then he was stoned.  And when the Dark Lord heard of this, he told his followers, ‘Learn well the lesson of the Eastern Wastelands, aight.  When you stand in the way of The Process, you shall be trodden asunder, and I shall be the master relative to the ownership of your buttocks.’”