Fire In The Brain - A Prophecy for Vecton and Classic Finnish Metal

So it came to pass that Bloodmace was called again to the Time Desert to perform his rituals for the humans of the hinterlands, leaving Vecton and I to carry out the sacred duties of the temple. Tonight, we offered up our supplications to the gods of metal with a look at classic Finnish riffmasters Tarot, OZ, and Ironcross. Take a step back with us, back to the days before frolicking folk metal and generically evil black metal. These bands are old fashioned, taking the usual elements of Iron Maiden, Motorhead and Sabbath as their building blocks. Would any of the contenders pass muster, or would we be damning the pesky Finns into the pit by the end of the night? As Mistress Crowbastard and Frostor the Bounty Hunter emerged from the inky darkness outside, the ritual began. Chants were chanted, whiskey glasses raised. The stars wheeled dizzily above our tabernacle and the sound of buzzing guitars and pounding drums tore the night sky. Welcome to another metal night!

Tarot started things out on a high note with their Maiden worshiping debut, Spell of Iron. While not high on the originality scale, they satisfied my craving for the metallic equivalent of a meat loaf dinner. Hearty stick to your ribs fare, comfort food. This reminded me at times of Cloven Hoof's classic, A Sultan's Ransom, another great metal album that came out a little too late. The competition proved too stiff for these talented fellas to sweep the night, but this is a superior NWOBHM type collection that I would recommend to anyone interested in the melodic side of heavy music.

Lives of the Noble Centonians Part  5.1 - Harder Than Stone

On the western coast of Centon, far beyond the mountainous stronghold of Bloodmace and Lady Steel, there lies an extraordinary patch of ruins whose origins are lost to the inhabitants of Centon in its third age. Here on the rocky shore of the Takra sea, where the winds blast over the desolate landscape and violent tides crash upon cliffs of sparkling black stone, the remains of a strange domed building crouch imposingly upon the misty heights. The few travelers who have wandered there have told tales of crystal skeletons who attack those whose curiosity attracts them to this place, their

obsidian swords and shields of ruby flashing in the ever present gloom. One would never know it now, but this dangerous place was once the home of Centon's Tauriat industry. It was here that the crystals, so necessary for travel after Headron burst in to this world and created the Time Desert, were grown and harvested by Katar and Ionna Vecton. They had arrived with the rest of the moonfolk when the great cataclysm displaced many humans in the multiverse. Miraculously surviving their dimensional tear, the people of earth's moon first developed the revolutionary device, used to detect dimensional rifts in the Time Desert, when it was found that some of the matter that had traveled with them from their home would grow into fantastic crystals when mixed with the Centonian seawater.

The great discovery came when Katar's hunting party was lost in the desert to the north and barely escaped being sucked into a timestorm's rift. During this encounter, it was noted that the blueish green crystal hanging from the neck of one of the warriors glowed wildly just before the ground and sky burst open in a vortex of chaos. Not too much later, the brave moonfolk explorer became the first in all Centon to safely travel the breadth of the unthinkably dangerous expanse of the Time Desert. Soon, they were selling their wares in Jenkabala, Waylor and Samur. Their villages became towns, then cities, then disappeared. All that remains of the once great land of Tarvac 6 is the single dome, its smashed arc howling into the heavens, calling to vanished masters.

 OZ, titans of Finnish heavy metal, crushing riffmasters and masters of bizarre lyrical turns. Fire in the Brain, the band's 1983 offering is an album that truly is a joy to listen to. At 27 minutes, it doesn’t wear out it's welcome like so many post 1988 sixty-minute-plus endurance tests and the material here is all strong, straightforward metal in the Motorhead/Accept mold, though I hear more than a little Exciter in the human sacrifice paean, Black Candles. Having heard all three albums before, I thought this would be a shoe-in for the winner of the night spot, but even the mighty OZ, witch held us enthralled for its length, fell before the final album...

Lives of the Noble Centonians Part 5.2 - Black Candles

It was barely dawn and the domed form of the crystal house was barely visible as Larn set out to check the mineral levels in the water tanks. As he reached manhood, he had been left more and more in charge of the everyday duties while his mother, Ionna ran the machine shop where raw crystals were formed into tauriat and his father, Katar traveled across the countryside, selling their wares. Crossing the open yard between the milky and angular crystal of his dwelling and the rounded grow room he flexed the wings on his back, extending the prismatic appendages out to full flight length

and snapping back several times. The brisk air carried a faint smell of flowers or perfume, he couldn't quite place it. The raven haired youth climbed the ladder on the resivoir tank that held water pumped from the sea below. Looking out he could see the scattered houses of the other moonfolk nestled into the rocky land along the cliffs of the Takra shore. A hymn of the Chevelargo kept going through his head. His father had been helping him collect songs of the human folk here and he had grown especially fond of the music of the north. Spells, chants, supplications, even mating songs were stored on crystalline disks by Katar as he traveled, recorded for transcription by Larn. "Youcant-stop it-thesignsofwararecoming" The words roll over and over in his mind as he checks the water from a hatch in the roof of the silo. Climbing down, he rounds the base of the dome barn and slides open the door panel, but as soon as he enters the tall hothouse he can tell something is wrong. The smell here is stronger and the young man's keen ears can detect an intruder. In the dim phosphorescent glow of the stone structure his eyes scan the crystal tanks, brimming with crystals, ready for harvest. Larn's

hand moves to his sword, but he is startled by a strange humanoid striding quickly out of the shadows. Its body was glossy and greenish black and was topped by an insectoid head with faceted eyes that stared out from above dangerous looking mandibles. The teenager brandishes his blade but the attacker knocks it from his hand with an overpowering blow. Grasping Larn's wrists, the adversary hisses, "Still, young Vecton, still. I have something for you. Something you will need soon" with its free hand, the sectaurian touches Larn's temple and the raven haired farmer was carried away by a vision of the future. He saw terror on human faces as tribes were ravaged by the Wyvern rulers. He saw a king with no subjects in the desert sand and sparkling crystal cities where his people lived. A shadow passed and there was a flash of the ruined dome. Screams echoed through his brain as he beheld his brethren torn apart in a massive timestorm. The melody he heard in his head became louder and the smell of flowers overtook his senses. "Sourwood" A voice whispered. "Study well the bard songs of Samur, they will show you the gate." Flashes of unfamiliar faces filled his head but one caught his attention. A face he had seen in a nightmare, that of a small child with profane magical symbols tattooed on its infant flesh. A searing pain visited him and consciousness slipped mercifully away. He was awoken by a tremendous barbarian shaking him violently and splashing water on his

face, "Wake up! Hello?' Opening his eyes he beholds one of he faces from his dream filling his sight. " I am Bloodmace of Waylor. I think we have some business." Dangling from his outstretched hand is the most exquisite tauriat mount he has ever seen. "The Necro Baby" Bloodmace intones, "You dream of her too?"

It may have been the whiskey, or the evil spells of Necro Baby and Iron James, but when Ironcross came blasting through the speakers, the congregation went wild. Bloodounds, their debut full length, from 1982 won the night in a breathtaking victory. It might have been when Vecton started to examine some of the lyrics to the organ drenched acid metal of their opus, Cross of Iron. Perhaps it was their bell-bottom shakin' hookup jam, Let's Get Down to Business, but one thing is for sure Ironcross represents the hard rock side of heavy metal and we were ready for a little business of our own. On through the night we celebrated the heshers sabbath and gave offerings to the hundred gods of the Jenkabala pantheon. Hail to Ironcross, champions of Monday night!

Words of the Elders

Prophesy has called its players to the stage, one by one the stories of Centon's greatest heroes and most nefarious villains will be revealed to you, dear readers. In this world of powerful sorcery and exotic real estate, things are never what they seem. Harken to the sound of destiny’s wind, for understanding the past is the key to deciphering the future. Call out to the hundred gods with wine and song, for you have but a short, messy moment in the middle of this cold eternity to grasp the white-hot fire!

Until next week, bloodhounds

Horns