Monday, 15 February 2016


I wrote the following as a status on facebook so my style may differ from the usual, but I felt it worth posting here.

My concept of class is most likely a bizarre one given the time we live in. But it is understandable given the history of class relating to Northern European peoples.
The class system used to serve a very different and healthier society than we have now. In the times before good records were kept, long before the Romans built their diseased and bloated factory farm of a civilisation.
Before the idea of human equality and life ever after had left the middle east, we had a tribal society.
That tribal society was made up of three classes, three classes that survived in theory until the middle ages despite them being naively out of date at the time and one of the classes serving the opposite purpose to their original one.
There was a warrior class, who, like the knights of the middle ages were the nobility, the leaders of men. Before there were even kings and queens, it was the warrior class, considered of the noblest blood who were tasked with the highest responsibilities in relation to their kinsmen.
There were the priest class, if you imagine the Druids of the Celtic nations, you wont be far wrong in imagining their ancient Germanic and Slavic brethren either. Learned and wise, the living libraries of folklore who relayed knowledge as old as time to all of society and functioned to keep society unified by the bonds of blood and the shared past of generations of ancestors. Unsurprisingly the loss of this class has been the most terrible blow Europeans have been dealt for thousands of years, along with the loss of the library of Alexandria, the disappearance of the priests of the old lore has left the distant past shrouded in great mystery and we are left with only scraps of lore from related peoples like the Greeks or the Vedic Hindus.
Lastly was the only class that survives even remotely intact, the workers, the freemen, slaves, labourers and the like.
In the middle ages all three existed, though the growing merchantile class began to break up the third class I mentioned and began the creation of what we would now call a middle class and the priestly class now served to impose a foreign ideology on the masses and eat away at the bonds that once united a people, remarkably though by the fourteenth century the Christianity that was being taught had been Europeanised to such an extent that the main complaints were of church corruption rather than the alien nature of its ideas and theology, and the church hierarchy was every bit as complicated as our class system is today.
My conception of the class system today bears all of this in mind. The middle classes, some of whom may have noble blood, are for the most part descended from the peasants that made up 90% approximately of the medieval population, just like the working class. The nobility who are so small I number today, made up a large minority of the population of prehistoric Europe. All of us are seasoned with the blood of noble and commoner alike. But I postulate that true nobility is not necessarily present in those who possess a title, and can in fact manifest in those who possess some noble blood but who no longer bear a title. That is the true nobility, the intelligence, culture and moral responsibility felt by the greatest among us. I have other theories on this also, such as divine blood claimed by ancient Scandinavian kings and the blood of the Volsungs making itself known in those chosen by Odin. I have rambled but my point stands, that three classes of Aryan (politically incorrect I know, read as indo-European if you get a touch of the vapours from reading that) exist, one is obsolete and will only exist when we reestablish a healthy society, one will remain confused and devoid of hope in the meanwhile and the other, the noble of heart and of blood, will lead one and prepare the way for the other.
Hail Odin.

Tuesday, 29 April 2014


I imagine those few who read this blog, though few are wondering why I do not post here often.

You could say that my relationship with technology is similar to my relationship with bubbly 18 year old blondes, I am obsessed with both and neither obliges me very often.
Presently I find my two laptops unwilling to comply with any remote command, my powerful one due to the cost cutting in even the better saleable products and the second due to my autistic clumsiness and my love of carbonated drinks. Presently I must write via a smartphone and it is for times like this I am glad I bought it.

Presently I find myself engrossed in Tolkein's Sigurd and Gudrun, an English reworking of the Lay of the Volsungs and the Lay of Gudrun. In typical Tolkein fashion it is a work of brilliance and quite unexpectedly an essential read for those who feel the call of the blood.

Particularly of interest to me was the wording of a particular stanza of the lay of the volsungs when a prophecy was spake:

If in day of doom, one deathless stands,
Who death hath tasted, and dies no more,
The Serpent-Slayer, Seed of Odin,
Then all shall not end, nor Earth Perish

The stanza refers to Sigurd of course, but it still made me think. As a man who knows Odin watches over him, who has seen the face of the allfather with my own eyes it makes me ponder my place in history and why I felt drawn to the name.
Why did I take the name, SerpentSlayer?
I knew full well what the serpent represented when I took the name, I knew of the world serpent and what it represented, but I knew not who was fated to slay it, nor the greatness required of such a man.
I find myself in a quandry, unable to openly accept that I could possibly be an incarnation of Sigurd, nor that I can abandon my resolve to do everything in my power to revive the Aryan race and destroy the wicked forces that threaten to destroy us.
For that reason I do not feel that I can abandon the name, SerpentSlayer, I was fated to take it I feel. For what purpose I know not, perhaps I shall be a hero in the coming esoteric struggle, perhaps I will fail, perhaps I will aid the one who truly deserves to bear the name. Who knows.
As it is, even though typing is hard I feel compelled to air my thoughts. I know that I am one of Odin's chosen if not the one his chosen wait for in Valhöll. The steely grey of my eyes betrays this openly and the nobility of my soul perseveres as it always shall, I know the allfather has a plan for me.

We all know the world is at an interesting point in it's history and I hope to explore the particular happenings of the present in closer detail soon.

Hail Odin!


Sunday, 23 February 2014

Die Schwarze Sonne Scheint!

A few weeks back I submitted this article to Max Musson of the popular Nationalist website, Western Spring. I wrote it specifically at his request. But inkeeping with the character of a man whose sole concern seems to be the amassing of wealth in order to undertake unrealistic objectives requiring resources and comrades of wealth and integrity in numbers we are unlikely to see before the cataclysm, he shied away from posting it without giving any reason. He likely thought my article unimportant, incendiary or simply contrary to his ideas of Nationalists multiplying in number finding wealth from nowhere and pleasantly twiddling their thumbs while the rest of the nation collapses and we are left miraculously untouched. The time may have passed for this articles immediate relevance, or it may not depending on how things go for Pravy Sektor but here you go:

In the beginning the protests in Ukraine baffled us all I imagine. I am sure most of us were familiar with the George Soros' backed Orange revolution of 2004 and knew of Ukraine and its people long being used as the gameboard and pieces of the mutual antipathy felt by Russia and the EU. The sight of the circle of twelve white stars on royal blue flown by crowds of Ukrainians, will have had the same effect on you as it had on me, utter revulsion.
I had consigned the whole thing to the compartment of my mind containing the Norwegian sheeple singing a pro-multiculturalism chorus in response to being called brainwashed idiots and Manchester United signing Fellaini, but the events of the past few days have led me to do more reading on the matter however. The trade deals offered by the Russians and the EU were the start of these protests last year, undoubtedly agents of the Jewish Global domination played a part in inciting public protest against the rejection of the EU's wondersful in the short-term offers and a slap up meal today for ten years of poverty never fails to entice the enthusiasm of a crowd. But remarkably the bulk of these protests took place in Western Ukraine.
Historically Western Ukraine  has, since the Jewish Bolshevik revolution, been a bastion of Ukrainian Nationalism. It was here that men like Stepan Bandera and the men of the 14th SS Division "Galician" were drawn from, who stood against the Communists and suffered heavily at their hands. Strange then that the region would have such strong support for the EU then, you would think.
Across Europe, the people who wake up in the morning, switch on the TV, perhaps have a little bit of breakfast before heading off to work, talking about last night's TV, perhaps the football, working at various levels of effort to fill the coffers of wealthy Capitalists, being rewarded with fiat money to buy new television sets, new Nike trainers and sugar heavy foods and going home for a night of television, tutting at the news and physical and mental laxity, see only the easy rewards as the ones worth having. Comfort for themselves and their families are the only pressing concern and the Panem et Circenses that keep them in chains are their only strong devotions.
As a result all of Europe, including the Ukraine is currently under the spell of Jewish lie merchants and has only an interest in financial comfort, trinketry and flashing screens filled with poison directed at the heart of their race. So it makes sense that most in Ukraine, even Western Ukraine the people are happy to be used as pawns of the political elites of the West, so long as it fills their bowls in the short run. But the point of this article is not to lambast the "sheep" of Europe, the masses of our race and likely the majority of future Europeans in a free and Aryan Europe.
What spurred me to read into the Ukraine, it's history and the reasons for the protests, were the sight of the Celtic Cross on the shields of the protesters who were throwing Molotov cocktails at the police of the Ukrainian ZOG. It seems like those whose motivations are flimsy are easily pushed aside by those who have the love of their race at their hearts and a brick ready to be thrown in their hands.
In the past two weeks, it has been Ukrainian Nationalists who have been organising the increasingly violent protests against the Ukrainian police and it's Jewish-Muscovite supporting government. As you can read in this article the protests have been repurposed into an open revolt against Jewish control of European nations and an attempt at National Liberation by our Ukrainian comrades. This should be exciting news for all of us.
Amongst the men that stood against Jewish Bolschevism during the last war were, Germans, Danes, Ukrainians, Hungarians, Italians, Swedes, Spaniards, Portuguese, French, Estonian, English, Dutch, Latvians, Russians, Albanians, Irish, Flemish, Wallonians, Norwegians, Croatians and Belarussians, all Europeans, all Aryans and all comrades.
But yet, worryingly, so far there has been little in the way of pan-European co-operation. There have been alliances of political parties, handshakes between officials and the occasional guest speaker but so far the ghost of the heroic Waffen SS, and the idea of a European people united against Jewish tyranny has remained uninvoked and dormant, ever waiting for Europe's future heroes to take up the Hakenkreuz banner once more.
What we are hearing off today in the Ukraine may well be the opportunity for that ghost of Pan-European warrior brotherhood to be revived and I urge the British Nationalist community to organise and prepare to help our comrades in the Ukraine. I urge all fit, healthy European Nationalist men of military age to consider our duty towards our Ukrainian comrades and that should open warfare exist between Ukrainian Nationalists and the Jewish puppet regime governing Ukraine, to consider that to be a declaration of war between all European Nationalists and the Jewish puppet governments across Europe and to reenforce our fighting men wherever they are the most active and strong.
As it stands the men of Ukraine have seized the initiative and have reportedly amassed stocks of weapons in preparation for the coming conflict. We do not have an Adolf Hitler to lead us, nor do we have uniforms, tanks and aircraft but we have brave men prepared to fight for the fate of the Aryan race and we owe it to them to stand by their sides. I urge those of us who can to do everything in their power to forge links with our Ukrainian comrades, and prepare the way for the arrival of British Nationalists into a future conflict there. Our older men have the means but not the fitness to fight, our young have little to no means and are plenty healthy and willing to. We all have our part and I hope this article has encouraged everybody to think about theirs.

Heil Hitler!


Wednesday, 5 June 2013

The Devil

The Devil, El Diablo, Der Teufel, whatever you wish to name him, he is the bugbear of the Abrahamic religions, he is the threat that keeps the ignorant loyal to the god who presumes power over all. He is the combined imagery and exaggerated (to absurdum) values of the Pagan gods, the demonisation of all that comes from the European soul.

His form comes from Faunus, his love of decadence an exaggerated form of the personality of Dionysus.

He represents the 'other' of Christian myth, the example of how not to serve the omnipotent Abrahamic god.

We are told that our pride, our will to avenge wrongs, our yearning to become greater and so on are 'sins' and that they empower this evil being and alienate us from the greatness of god (who is to be seen as the ultimate good). It has always struck me as odd that an all powerful god, such as that featured in the middle eastern slave religions, is so concerned about any affront to his name, and that his word is the be all and end all. To laugh at this god or to take humour from any of his dictations or actions, is in the eyes of his followers and of his network of priests, reprehensible.
As Nouvelle Droite founder, Alain de Benoist put it "Beware of the god who cannot laugh"

I recognise this being as either minor spiritual power who allows his ego rampant or the projection of a people enslaved to their own egos. Either way he is a being that encourages to give up all ideas of freedom and to bind us all to his better judgement. He will take care of us so long as we do as we are told, much like a pimp, a Mafia don or a tyrannical ruler. In effect he is the very Devil that is used to scare people to him, he is the slave master.
We see similar logic in today's society, so long as we accept cultural Marxist ideas and doctrines. So long as we abandon our land to the forces of Globalism and the destruction wrought by aggressive aliens unwanted in their homelands , so long as we forget all personal liberties such as free speech or the maintenance of arms, so long as we do not oppose the rape of natural resources in our lands and abroad and so on.
We see the Nationalistic, anti-Globalist and Anti-Zionist forces as akin to the Devil (who has now lost power, Communism having no need to maintain any form of traditional moral code, it having degraded rapidly since the 19th century) where once Pagans and innocent women were burnt and hanged by the church, men and women are detained and persecuted for questioning the entrenched ideological 'concensus' of the media, think tanks and so forth.

The true meaning of this article is indeed related to the fifteenth card of the Major Arcana of the Tarot deck, featured at the top there, look closely at the card. You will see the horned devil, representing materialism, greed and giving into our every desire, you will also see a man and a women (the lovers of card VI of the Major Arcana) both bound to him. Of especial note and the reason why this has relevance to the modern world is that neither resists or even looks uncomfortable. Both are comfortable in their slavery.

In our ancient European faith we are told to aspire for greater mastery over the self, the runes contain every mystery of the universe as known to us and we are urged to find it in our own selves, overcoming our own egotism and our fear of the unknown to learn these mysteries. Likewise too in the course of understanding the cards of the Tarot (or Tarock, as I prefer being an Anglo-Saxon) we learn of the mysteries of life and the progression from slave to master of his own universe, we become more godlike even. I can understand why this puts fear into any being or race that wishes to enslave us.

Instead of learning our ancestral ways and being taught to love heroic warriors, wise rulers, our people, our families, our land, we are instead taught to love the gold of the enslavers and material objects of no real worth. We are taught to shop, to buy trinkets and expensive baubles, we are taught that these things will not only make us feel better, but by possessing them we ARE better and of course the wealthy men and women who encourage this are to be idolised above all (i.e celebrities)

At no point agree we ever encouraged to yearn to become OURSELVES better. To be better able to take criticism, to become unafraid of death and hurt, to become a better person for those around us, to become a better asset to our folk. These things are anathema to the race world-eaters that offer us gold and comfort in exchange for our freedoms and our status as free men. Instead we aspire to be granted scraps from the lords table for our compliance, for our stupidity and our unquestioning ego that is happy to be called 'tolerant' and 'modern' rather than risk it all to regain our dignity.

In much of our folklore gold and especially rings are used to bind others to some terrible force, we have had this in our collective subconscious for time immemorial and yet we are still bound just as surely. We had one Sigurd/Frodo last century but still the gold hoarding dragon remains unslain and we rejoice in our service to him and in the defeat of our would be dragon slayer all the time. The vast majority of our folk do not have it in them to resist this slavery, the weakest through love of materialism and the stronger through fear of defeat and of not being strong enough to take the flak that will come their way.
I think in light of this, the more leaderlike amongst us, the more godlike, usually Nordic-Aryans have to shoulder a greater burden and become the slayers of the wyrm, as my 'SerpentSlayer' moniker alludes to, we must become our own saviour as European heroes have done since the first age.

We must suppress the negative voice in our minds that tells us not to get out of bed to run because of the rain or that the beautiful blonde woman at the bar will not be interested in us (because obviously they all want black men, of course, the TV said so!) or that any form of action will be futile. We must become comfortable with ourselves and not in the hippie multicultural sense of the words, we must cut out our own weaknesses and learn to master ourselves, as my brother taught me that in order to use power tools, as with riding a horse or wielding a weapon, we must have mastery of them, we must first conquer ourselves and learn increase our strengths and lessen our weaknesses.

Once we do this we will be able to speak from our hearts, to not fear scorn or the opinions of others, to care not about our standing in a society bought by stolen wealth and to be concerned with cultivating ourselves as true Europeans and as the sword bearing heroic warriors and shield maidens of old.

I have intentions on running a series of articles that elaborate on this very theme, the cultivation of the self, examples of our heroes and historical examples of how societies have been bought and destroyed by gold and by tyrannical modes of though, and their source. Keep tuned, and if you have anything you would like to suggest just leave me a comment or drop me an email.

Waes Hael
SerpentSlayer, F.F.F

Remember- In darkest night, the strongest light, shines the most to show us all, the fearful host amongst our kin, under our skin, the rot set in, fed by gold and enmity old and that importantly, we cannot let them win (literally, we cannot, it is impossible, think on this!)

Thursday, 16 May 2013

The Mad Minute

An English soldier surveys no-man land for signs of enemy activity.

I have been away for nearly a month now but I have been busy. It seems my will to comment on current affairs has pretty much died, or at least it is asleep. for now.
My artistic instincts however are undulled and during this time I have composed several poems, wrote a short story or two and even begun a novel. Following is a brief piece of fiction I wrote several weeks ago, it is technically classed as flash fiction, and it recounts not more than a minute in the life of an English soldier of the Great War on the receiving end of an enemy assault:

The Mad Minute
By SerpentSlayer

For a minute I sat crouched in the shallow trench, my ears still ringing from the blast. I went as if to grab another clip for my rifle's magazine but I found that my hand shook too violently to articulate well enough to do it. I was done for, I knew my rifle was empty, I knew my bayonet lay bent and broken on whichever part of the floor, wherever the blast had threw it and worst of all, I knew that the rest of my section had fallen, every man other than myself had been taken by Jerry's artillery shells.
As the roaring and shouting of battle-cries became louder, I found that every breath seemed longer and longer and every shout of 'Gott Mit Uns!' became ever more drawling and slow. As the approaching wall of sound stretched and grew louder, my mind seemed to become clearer and I was at ease in the hell that I found myself in. I took my last clip of five rounds from the pouch on my right hip and thumbed the .303 rounds into my Enfield rifle, I discarded the strip of metal that allowed them to be loaded swiftly and pushed the bolt forward. As I did this it dawned on me that
crouching in an inconspicuous position as I was, I would not be seen. German soldiers began to reach the trench. I could see the shadow of the tips of their pointy helmets to my left.
When the first Pickelhaube wearing head turned towards me, the hollowpoint round that blasted his skull into shard came completely unawares, the heroic triumph was still written in his face as his body flopped to the ground. Two more of the Hun made it into the trench, leaping with their bayonets fixed and their eyes filled with fury, both turning towards me with a vengeful look as they took in the sight of their fallen comrade. My next shot, with my rifle cocked as the two sets of Prussian feet touched the ground, rang out loudly, this second .303 round claimed one of the Hun, with a blow to the chest, he was barely a boy, his face bare and his eyes wide as he fell clutching the hole where his heart used to be.
The other German, an older man with a thick red beard charged at me, angry with grief and a tear in his eyes. As if by instinct I had lifted my rifle by the upturning of my left hand and held it as a club in anticipation of the bayonet thrust that was finding it's way towards me. I sidestepped and hammered the butt of my rifle on to the benthandled bayonet the Hun had fixed to his rifle and almost as if one action I sent the butt of my Enfield right into his cheekbone, shattering blood, bone and meat into the air. As the bearded German fell, I noticed more Germans that had filed behind him into the trench. My rifle still in mid swing as it was, was useless to me and I was helpless to stop the shot that filled my lungs with blood. The world was brought back into focus, the flat mud puddle of Belgium, the sounds of explosions and battle-cries, the German and English corpses strewn around the trench, I screamed inside as I fell on to the earth. And yet another white man fell in the mud of Flanders, joining the thousands who had fell before, another faceless tragedy.

-Dedicated to all the European soldiers who fought in the Great War 1914 to 1918-

Saturday, 20 April 2013

Happy Birthday Adolf Hitler!

On the twentieth of April in the year (of the common reckoning) eighteen-hundred and eighty-nine a baby boy was brought into a world undergoing a cultural high point. The great civilisations of Europe held control over most of the globe, scientific discovery was abounding, industry was booming and many of the great cultural works of our known history were produced.

This young boy grew into a man who saw Europe torn apart by a bloody and pointless civil war, taking an active part in his nation's struggle he earned the two highest awards for bravery his country offered and was wounded several times.

After the war he found his nation beset by political and economic turmoil, he actively fought the threat of Communism and ousted the men who would have used his people as walking piggy banks. This man died defending his nation from Communism, if it were not for his efforts, Western Europe would likely have fell to Communism also.

On this day I urge you all to honour the Führer, Adolf Hitler, and thank him for saving us from a nightmarish existence, few of us today can imagine. Communism survives in a changed form and endeavours to tear away all of our natural rights in the name of security and ideological conformity, look to this man and we will learn how to destroy it.

Happy Birthday Adolf Hitler.

N.B Sigurd's day is only three days away, use the day as an opportunity to celebrate the shared legacy of all Germanic peoples, be they English, Danes, Norse, Swedes, Germans, Dutch or Scots!

Thursday, 11 April 2013

A Guest Article from SerpentSlayer

It never occurred to me to post this before but this is an article I wrote two weeks ago for the Tameside Citizen blog, not geo-political but instead an article I hope encourages my readers to get out and about and enjoy our landscape: