In the days following the defeat of the Orange Prince, the Dark Lord allowed the Exalted Army to go back to their homes in the Promised City and surrounding regions, and there did they rest and recover from battle. And behold, each soldier lay with his fill of the finest and best of maidens, for these maidens were overcome with mead and ale following the victory. And great was the revelry, and deeply did the soldiers enjoy themselves.

But the Dark Lord knew not of earthly joy, for he was steeped in the Process, and only its fruit did he desire. Out of the southern swamp emerged once again the false prophet. His royal crown sat high on his head, yet the glisten it once had seemed to have faded into distant memory. For the embedded jewels no longer reflected any of the illuminating light of the Process, and for lack he wandered helpless and dumb through the swamp. And the Lord Saban was briefly grieved, for he saw his former priests and lords and duchesses breaking under the hopeless guidance that the false prophet provided. But then did he process a Oatmeal Cream Pie, and then did he look into the night sky and discover a rare 5-star, and his heart was again filled.

Soon the Exalted Army was again prepared for battle, and mighty and strong were they as their crimson helms shown bright with the Sun and the ground shook with the crashing of their feet. The people of the Promised City then let out a great battle cry, and the army of dogs and corn again knew fear. The battle began as the armies crashed together with the fury that the Dark Lord crashes into his chosen maiden.(Scholarly Note: the word used to describe the Dark Lords sexual prowess, here translated “crashes,” is the same ancient word that was used in the original description of the destruction of Atlantis, and its descendant word is the same one used to describe the output of nuclear weapons) Fierce was the battle, and the Process flowed through the Exalted Army and bonded them into a single, overpowering force of energy and destruction.

As the battle waged, the healing powers of the Process became apparent, and the army of dogs and corn began to lose its most prized soldiers. The Exalted Army stood tall, as time and again it slew down its opponents and hewed bone and broke flesh. Yet somehow, the battle still stood near a standstill as day gave way to evening. It was at this time the the Dark Lord did call the Great to his side. “The Great,” he spake “your time of slumber must now be complete. It is for this purpose for whice you were brought into the process, and it is in this hour of need you must carry the banner of the Exalted Army. Charge forth, and go in my name.” And the Great understood, and then with a great cry he leapt from his place in the battle lines and charged forth like a arrow from a bow. Straight and true was his stride, and at the conclusion of his charge he gazed around him, and his opposition had not the will to stand. There was chanting and great joy, and once again was the false prophet and his minions defeated by the Process.

Thank you! I repeat: thank you! I look forward to hearing more from you, sir!

I fear the Dark Lord is in trouble. Where art though?

Lo, and the Dark Lord was troubled in those times, as surrounding lands heaped their praises on the Exalted Army, and words of their deeds had stretched across many a open field and dale. His Army had immersed itself in the Process, and had earned many a Victory for Lord Saban. Yet the Dark Lord knew all things, and he knew that an army long lain dormant was in wait. The Vile One no longer led this half-breed of swine; they were now named the Orange Prince as their master. Mighty and powerful were his words, and they caused great turmoil among the nations. The barbs that laced his tongue were treacherous to the hearing, and the Dark Lord warned that no heed should be given to them.

As the battle raged, the Exalted Army was surprised by the skill of the Jester, who bent his head to the will of the Orange Prince. Many a nation had laughed at the gaiety at which the Jester swung his sword, often giving aid to other armies more so than his own. Yet on this Third Saturday of the Waning Sun, the Jester found unknown skill, and many times did the armies of the Orange Prince throw themselves at the defenses of the Exalted Army, though caused little bloodshed.

Due to the cunning of the father of the Orange Prince, the Dark Lord Saban was forced to bring up from behind the lines the Swamper(who was so named because his home was praised in the Ballad of Exalted Army, who sang it with great heart before the dawn of battle). Verily did the Dark Lord Speak, “Swamper, heave to your catapult with all of your might, so that you might receive positive self gratification relative to your performance, aight.” And so the catapult did rain down on the Orange Prince into the evening, and his very will seemed to be almost gone.

(Scholarly Note: At this point, the text is unclear as to what occurred, the writing is confusing, and not consistent with the rest of the text. There is at the end, however, this song that was sang that night, praising the Mountain. He appears to have won great fame in the end of the battle.)

A mighty fortress is the Mount,
a bulwark never failing;
our help when down for the count
or mortal ills prevaling.
For still our Ancient Foe
doth seek to work us woe;
his craft and power are great,
and armed with cruel hate,
on earth has but one equal.

Did we in our own strength confide,
our striving would be losing,
were not the right man on our side,
the man of Saban’s choosing.
Dost ask who that may be?
The Mountain, it is he;
Mount Cody is his name,
from play to play the same,
and he must win the battle.

And though this world, with Vols is filled,
should threaten to undo us,
we will not fear, for Saban hath willed
This man to triumph for us.
The Prince of Orange grim,
we tremble not for him;
his rage we can endure,
for lo, his doom is sure;
one little kick shall fell him.

Our line above all earthly powers,
Towers over them and abideth;
the Process and its gifts are ours,
thru him who with us sideth.
Let goods and kindred go,
this mortal life also;
the game they try to win;
The Process holds fast then;
And reigns and reigns forever.