Pain of Days - Make-Up Madness and Zlendar's spell

For Impaled Nazarene's sake!! It's been too long. But Metal Night soldiers on, regardless of whether we get off our asses to write this fucking thing or not. Metal Night is eternal. It has always happened, and always will happen, even before our births, and even after we die and are rotting in our graves, still conscious, and feeling the agony worms burrow into our flesh. It was and always shall be. Cuz we just get together and listen to music and drink. And this is what we listened to, man.

Into the Necro Lands Part 19.1 - One With Fire

The moon was bright enough to light the wide path that led to Zlendar's house. Rygar the Seeker led us through the jungle wordlessly and with great caution. Bloodmace and I, deprived of our magical battle jackets since we left for Sekran, were on high alert. In the shadows around us we could hear at least three or four animals stalking us and my heart jumped when I saw a flash of eyes from the trees ahead. The trail began to curve and Rygar held up his hand. The spear he held began to glow and with a spark, produced a flame from the tip that revealed our hunters. All around us, large black cats had gathered. There were fifteen, perhaps twenty vicious looking felines, hissing and croaking out their warning. Bloodmace brandished his club, but Rygar stopped him “Easy, barbarian. We want to get there in one piece.” The seeker took a lanyard from around his neck and held it aloft, “Danyana Karcasta extasius ghabin” The cats cease their hissing and before us, the largest of their number approaches. Rygar begins speaking to their leader an an incomprehensible garble. The beast sits on its hind quarter for a moment and scratches its ear then emits a loud yowl, dispersing the hunting party back into the shadows. Rygar looks back at us, “The right persuasion.” He swings the charm up into the air, catching it with his other hand. Continuing into the darkness, I notice the number of cats around us has not decreased, they are everywhere. At long last we come to a fork in the path, “This is the way.” Says Rygar , “Hurry on brothers, the Molnaar chief has granted us passage, but if one of them gets hungry...” We step up the pace through the smaller fork with the fragrant brush encroaching ever more on the path until we are at last cutting through a bramble where there once was a path. Then, suddenly, we are in a clearing. A garden opens out before us, flowers glowing blue in the moonlight. Scattered around the grounds are statues of the great chiefs of the lizard tribes in northern Jenkabala. I gasped out loud at the rush of memories from home that flood over me. Straight ahead, an ivy covered cabin presides over the serene landscape, windows glowing cheerfully with yellow light. Rygar turns to us, “We have arrived.”

Yesterday, Demon Scourge and I, along with Lady Bird Blood and Rangar The Sectaurian, took Metal Night on location, and took in am underground black metal show at some hidey-hole on the inner city called The New Church. Barghest, from Baton Rouge, LA, headlined, with Grand Rapids Discarnate and Dakhma opening. All three bands put in stellar, intense sets. The three piece Dakhma is a brand of atmospheric blackened crust was hypnotic and face melting. These kids inserted lots of raw passion into their set, with the drummer and vocalist in a deadlock for our souls, while the guitar player laid down layers of hateful texture. Vocalist Clair screamed her fucking head off until I though her head would explode. It did not. Great local band. Next, Discarnate roasted our flesh and sucked our souls with a solid set of old school black metal, with a crusty edge. Grand Rapidians love their crust, that's for certain. They were tight and evil, the riffs were delectable, and the singer wore an evil hood, and the red lighting evoked an atmosphere pure fucking hellocaust. Their last song inspired the first mosh pit. Barghest roared into their set and into our black hearts with their roaring brand of slightly sludgy blackened death. Metal as fuck. Several thousand blast beats later, our small, unholy coven disbanded into the night, to spread discord and bloody mayhem. Barghest ate sandwiches at Two Beards in the morning, before invading Chicago.

Into the Necro Lands Part 19.2 - Fade to Insanity

Across the neatly manicured garden we strode to the entrance of the little cabin. Rygar raps on the heavy door with the demon headed knocker. After a moment, the portal creaks open. Standing before us is not the wizened crone I had expected, but a vigorous mystic, draped in a sparkling sharn after the fashion of Jenkabala's saurian tribe. A long smile crept across her exquisitely scaled face as she greeted our guide warmly, “Rygar, welcome. I see you have bought our young princes.” She nods to us, sizing my brother and I up with inky eyes. Rygar answers, “Yes, but time is short. Necro Baby and Bildorf the Mad are in pursuit. They were fighting one another when we helped these two to escape, but it won't be long before they track us here.” The mysterious Zlendar nods in response and silently beckons us to follow with a swish of her cape. Inside the small room, shelves are sagging under the weight of the dusty, leather bound tomes in a hundred languages that line the walls. Everywhere, magical objects are piled, pushed and stored in stacks. She motions to a gilt table on one side of this enchanted library, “Sit here,” She says, clearing jars, bottles and scrolls from the surface before us. “I have to get some things before we begin. Put on those cloaks.” She motions to a rack near the door where drab, blood spattered robes are hung. Our

host disappears through a door and we can hear her rummaging and cursing as we nervously don the musty garments. Returning to us, she unrolls a large map, holding down each corner with smooth, greenish stones. I can pick out Jenkabala within the shape of Centon, but that is only a small part of the map. The constellation of islands that spray out in the middle of the ocean are not familiar to me though. Even further beyond that there is a large island I have never heard of. My head reels with this new knowledge, but it's not the most curious feature of the cartograph. The other half, once unrolled, is a mirror of the first image, but the power lines of each different form of magic are represented. The lines are luminous, with strength of magic represented by brightness, so it is clear to see the green magic of the inland forest gets weaker, but does not disappear over the ocean, and so it was with the many forms of esoteric energies in the world. Each had waxing and waning power in the varying geographic areas, but there was one bright web that stretched all over the map. Behind us, candles flare and pungent incense curls fill the room with a bracing scent as Zlendar readies her magic. Stepping up to the table, she addresses us, “Please stand. We will need to join hands.” The candles brighten in response to our contact. “Pyrna ooleck chakakst,” She begins to chant, “Erka amanti gornah!” Over and over, she chants words turning over and over. A goblet is passed, the drink has a strange, metallic taste. The chant resumes and the drink begins to take effect, twisting the words inside out and backwards. The bright lines that cover one side of the map begin to glow with a firey intensity until they are filling my sight. I hear the voice of the witch, “Think of the battle vests, think back to the day you parted. Where are they?” The images rush into my head and I feel like my skull wil split open with the energetic force they create. I am screaming, Bloodmace is screaming, and above the din Zlendar's voice barks a command to Rygar, “The bag! Use it now!” Hot liquid is pouring everywhere and darkness envelops me.

      *   *   *   *   *   *   *   *   *

I came back to consciousness with a start. Everything in the small room where our ordeal had taken place was as though nothing had happened. I am laying on a couch looking at the table across the room and Bloodmace laying under it. I rise to waken him and feel something strange around my torso. Looking down I see the greatest thing I have lain eyes upon since our ordeal began on centon. Our battle vests. Once again our mystical vestments protected us. Once again we had the means to defeat Necro Baby and Bildorf the mad. Light was streaming through the windows of the ivy covered cabin, I had a feeling today would be a good day.

The previous Metal Night was spent in the Jenkabala Dungeon, mortifying our flesh to brand new death/doom. Paradise Lost's new album, The Plague Within, is a fantastic return to form and was the winner of the night. This album most resembles Draconian Times and Icon, but with a return to death growls by vocalist Nick Holmes, along with the Gothic tunefulness. Nothing really new, but the song writing is topnotch, the atmosphere doleful, the riffs solid and satisfying. Next, Forgotten Tomb singed our ears with their blackened sludge fest 'Hurt Yourself And The Ones You Love'. This is easily their best since 'Songs To Leave'. Nice doomy sludge meets esoteric evil Italian style. This is a level of hate you need special training for. But rest assured, we survived with our souls intact, which is disappointing in and of itself. Great album, but did not capture our sullen hearts like Paradise Lost. Lastly, the appropriately monikered Crypt Sermon tried to get us right with God, Trouble style, with their 2015 debut, Out Of The Garden. Throw in some Candlemass for good measure. This album was pretty ok. If you are into The Skull era Trouble, and Candlemass, this album will be your cup of mead. Nothing very memorable, though.

And now, a journey into the distant past, as previous Metal Nights have been drunken debaucheries and I just can't remember all the bands we heard. But here, it is, all the shit that I can remember:

Enforcer-From Beyond: New School old school speed metal is hot right now and Enforcer leads the vested pack. Demon Scourge likes this band more than I do. When I want to hear old speed metal, I'll just put on some Exciter. Not saying they are a bad band at all, but I just don't find this album very memorable. Into The Night was better. I think this won the night. My memory is foggy.

German thrash masters Vendetta won our hearts when we heard their 1988 album Brain Damage. It is excellent technical thrash, and definitely an unjustly ignored album. Think Destruction at their most nimble, toss in a little Voivod, and Coroner, and heaps and heaps of fucking thrash. The level of playing is staggeringly good. Great album. I think it won the night. We drank like Germans.

Ok, that's it. We'll try to keep up. But we are such terrible alcoholics. It's over for us. It's all over.


Words of the Elders 
Behold a world of doors and mirrors, a world of tense pauses that widen out into a limitless gulf of black. How can you understand the song of space? The voice of infinity cannot be measured in beats or bushels, drachmas or drams. We have no apparatus to comprehend, and yet our ears are still pressed to the ground, waiting for the sound of distant hooves. To travel is to move, and so we do, traveling with hearts and fangs. Meat sticks, marching to the unheard beat, a lilting call from space. Icy claws grasping greedily at the edges of perception. 

Until next time, bestial sorcerers, 


Horns 

Exiled to the Abyss - Bildorf's Island Hell and Old Men Ranting in the Jenkabala Night

We are old dudes. Demon Scourge and I live in the realm of the Glory Daze, raised on the mothers milk of 80's thrash, 90's black metal, hordes of Priest and Maiden imitators, Priest and Maiden, Motorhead, and most anything else righteously labeled 'old school'. But we do arise from the musty basement of yesteryear upon occasion, flames and smoke peeking out the cellar door, about once a year, at the end of the year, to check out some new shit, hoping we are not too disappointed. And we were not. 2014 was a stellar year for metal, and here is some of the shit that we liked.

Behemoth's The Satanist has made so many top ten lists this year that it's kind of ridiculous. But the accolades are well deserved. I've never been a fan of their blackened death metal phase; too much overblown and gimmicky histrionics, not enough dynamics. But this flaw has been corrected, and Behemoth have crafted a masterpiece. Big production meets compositional strength, the riffs and atmosphere taking you to in surprising direction, but always grounded a brutal fistfuck of sound. Refreshingly, the annoying overdriven vocals of yesteryear have been toned down a couple notches, and the tempos are not a ridiculous spastic blur. Say what you will about the quasi-mall metal image, this album is a wet blowjob to Satan, and is the winner of the night, of that night, when ever it was.

Into the Necro Lands Part 15.1 - Riders of the Doom

Rygar the Seeker stood stood before us on the precipice of rocky coral and sea junk, looking out on the shipyard concealed within this weird island. He turned toward Bloodmace and I with a flourish of his dusty cape and stroked his close cropped beard, “Below is the heart of Bildorf's might.” He pointed down to the

vast cavern, filled with vessels hijacked from every corner of the Dakti Ocean, “I came here with my troops, who are quartered below, to take you back to the mainland before Necro Baby can strike back at Bildorf. We must act now.” Bloodmace steps forward and replies, “Without our battle jackets, we don't have much in the way of magic, but I have this.” He brandishes his spirit mace with a bloodthirsty look. Rygar unsheathes his machete in solidarity and with a rougeish smile motions us to follow, “the plan is already in motion,” pausing to look at his watch, “Three, two, one...” An explosion rocks the cave, “Hurry! Down this passage!”

Oh, we also listened to Godflesh's triumphant return album, A World Lit Only By Fire. There a no real innovations or major changes to their sound, for this can be non other than a Godflesh album. The band revisits some old tropes, some old riffs, and remixes them in a hellishly hypnotic din of torment and anguish. The sound is rather dry and compressed, but that's a minor poo poo. They have thankfully gotten their old drummer back, who is a drum machine. Welcome to your unique hell.

So the next week we kept it up and listened to a ton of new shit. First, we heard Pallbearer's hip hipster friendly doom trip, Foundations of Burden. This is a vast improvement over their overhyped debut. Better
riffs and sweeter melodies go down like smooth vodka on a winters night, and then often 10 minute long songs never get boring or feel drawn out. Good shit right here, dude. They will fill up the Pyramid Scheme when they come to town, guaranteed.

German thrash standard bearers Tankard released R.I.B.(Rest In Beer) this year, and all is right with the world. This album contained no surprises, but was a solid, well-crafted riff fest. Not much else to say about this album but that it inspired some serious headbanging and an air guitar attack by yours truly.

The wonderfully monikered Pestifer fucked our fucking faces with their tech death extravaganza, Reaching The Void. As wonderful as it is to find a good new technical death metal album that doesn't just sound like Cryptopsy, this album doesn't break much ground. It is a familiar mix of ground tread by Death, Necrophagist, and host of other nimble fingered face fuckers. Quite good.

Into the Necro Lands Part 15.2 - Tree of Thorns

In the terrifying moments we spent careening down the collapsing tunnel I lived a hundred lifetimes. All around us, chaos was taking hold. Ahead I could see the exit, so I bolted forward, but I could tell something was not right the moment I left the crumbling passage. Energy bolts exploded all around me as debris

continued to rain down on my head. Bildorf's henchmen, who jumped in surprise as we barreled out of the aperture behind them, were being fired upon by the minions of Necro Baby, who had arrived ahead of schedule. We wasted not a moment of their unpreparedness, I ran the first through with my trusty longsword while Bloodmace reduced the other two to a wretched pile of pulp with the feared weapon of his people. Rygar shouted from behind us, “Look out, Necrites!” Swooping down from above, two black winged deadbirds screamed their war cry, skeletal riders raining arrows down on the rocky beach. I leap for the cover of a nearby boulder but as I turn I can see, almost in slow motion, an arrow about to hit its mark. In an instant, the seeker of Thrashstone deflects the projectile with his cape as feathered serpents swarm over the rise and smash the undead warriors. Rygar shouts to Bloodmace and I, “Quickly, mount a serpent! To the mainland and Sekran!” We join their procession and after a precipitous ascent, I behold through my nausea and fear the attack on Bildorf's island by the Necromancer's forces. Just as we ride into the setting sun, I get a chilling glance of a tremendous baby rising out of the sea...

But the winner of the fucking night was Dawnbringer's heavy metal bad assness, Night of the Hammer. This was a great find. It is well composed, ballsy heavy metal with clean, Nordic inspired vocals and harmonies, and lyrics, and a dark, old school black metal ala Merciful Fate feel. We were blown away by the quality and sweetness. It is a dark chocolate bar filled with crack nuggets. Definitely checking out their back catalogue.

Words of the Elders

AkKachakRak! Aid us in the hour of peril, FarNnAl, Sepchoug! Come int the house of Tam! War has come to the realm of the titans and the terrible brothers are caught in the middle again. The swirling void of disaster has been activated and fear will rule the land. Paura nella cittia' dei morte viventi!

Until next time hellhordes,

Horns

War All The Time And Some Of The Time: New Directions in Chaos!!

Bloodmace here. In order to keep this blog more active, I am going to start posting more reviews of random shit, whether it happens at Metal Night or not. I will try and cover all the albums that play at Metal Night, that's if I have anything interesting to write about them. The big posts, with the story, the video, and the pictures, are going to come out about once a month. We will not be covering every Metal Night with every post. That is simply too much fucking work. But we want to keep posting regularly because we have built quite a following over the last few years and we don't want to lose that because...well....just because. We don't intend on turning this blog into anything other than what it is....the chronicle of a couple doods and some friends who get together once a week and listen to some fucking metal.

So, Demon Scourge and I got to together and listened to the new Mayhem album. Yes, that Mayhem. Not the 70 other bands on Metallum that go by that name. Esoteric Warfare is very much a "stadium black metal" album, not a murky lo-fi necro fest. The guitar tones are massive and clear, the bass is audible and the drums are crisp and powerful. The riffs and rhythms are twisty and twisted, the songs are exploratory and tinged with prog, but always return to fuck you in the face with Satan's dark power. The influence of Watain is written all over this and one could criticize them for straying to far from their evil roots, but you might risk pissing off Hellhammer, who has killed before. Better shut your fucking mouth.


We also took in the latest slice of violence from New Zeeland war metal purveyors Diocletian. Gesundrian is what Blasphemy might sound like if recorded by Bob Rock. It is surprisingly well recorded and rendered in a digital clearness, but unrelenting wall of aural fucking death, punctuated by great riffs and inhuman drumming. No surrender, no mercy, nothing subtle, and few dynamics, other than the slow grinding crawl of the first track and a few sparse moments scattered throughout the album. But these are not exactly gentle interludes. These Kiwis give you the punishment you crave, the ass kicking you deserve.


To round out the filth, I am adding this deathly panzerfuck from Swedish band Omnizide. Their new album, Death Metal Holocaust, is a splendid jerkfest of blackened indecency and old school death metal sickness. A dash of Immolation and Incantation, a hint of the classic Swedish Death sound, some gargle, screechy necro vocals, and even some D-beat here and there make this an entertaining grab sac of maggoty delights. The song Crystals of Death, with its catchy old school Swedish riffery, is the best track. I could stab many a face to it.


 And that's all from now. Now off to frolick in the Necrolands. Horns!!!!!

Necrobaby - Live at Last!

Necrobaby, ancient child of evil, leader of the Necro tribes and sorceress of dead! Necrobaby, destroyer of sanity and virtue! Bloodmace and Demon Scourge's greatest foe comes to life in this amazing masterpiece of gloom by the mad illustrator, Ryan Brady (A.K.A.Rangar the Sectaurian, shaman of Narn.) For a limited time, you can have a piece of Jenkabla history and protect yourself from any spell a necromancer could cast upon you. Certainly, the utility of a garment such as this is apparent, especially for those who travel near the Necro Lands, but you have never seen craftsmanship like this at such a price. Forged in the catacombs of Dorgo by Necron the Scrollmaster, these sturdy vestments will last for many battles to come.

Sizes

Large Small Medium X-Large

15.00 + 4.00 shipping

Excruciating Commands - Random Extreme Metal and Maddaughter's Necro Raid

Hey. It's Metal Night. Time to get to the metal. One death, one black, and one grind. And the bloody random violence of Mistress Crowbastard.

First we heard French death fornicators Massacra and their workmanlike 1992 slab of steel, Signs of the Decline. You can't really fault this album except that it is absolutely unexceptional death-thrash. Expertly played, fast and slow at appropriate moments, sick and brutal most of the time, as death metal should. Scattered here and there are hints of groove metal, which is what they reemerged as on their next album. I enjoyed it, but I'm not so sure I would return to it time and time again like Gallery of Suicide or Covenant. Oh, yeah, the lyrics are a bit ponderous and a little too socially conscientious. You are not exactly Anthrax, you guys. A few songs about rotted vaginas would have been nice.

Into the Necro Lands Part 2.1 - Ghost Dance

To travel by darkness on the northern shore of Centon was a breathtaking sight, for all along the coastline, schools of darvon illuminated the water with their luminescent beaks, jumping into the air as they hunted nightbirds and scray that would perch on the jutting rocks that dotted the shallow waters of the Larksheel Sea. The splashing and cawing of predator and prey as they did their nightly dance hid the sound of our light tread as Maddaughter Tesa, Losi and Birdblood, along with

Bloodmace and I moved silently into our positions. Just out of sight on the beach ahead was a supply bunker for Necro Baby's security forces. In order to move more effectively around the countryside, Maddaughter Tesa decided that we would steal one of their trucks. My brother and I climbed on to a boulder near the water, where we could see the small shed next to a fenced yard with vehicles and pallets of food. Birdblood and Losi mounted the dune to our left, while Maddaughter walked slowly towards the lighted hovel. We couldn’t hear what the first soldier yelled as he came out the door, but as soon as he dropped to the ground three more came rushing out. Bloodmace makes a motion to rush to her aid, I put my arm out to block him. "Remember what she said...wait." The hulking barbarian halts with a sigh, but his mace remains tightly clutched in his hand while the other rests on the battle jacket. The three soldiers rush our guide with a cry we can hear from our perch, only to fall to the sand at their approach, wet pools gathering around their deathless bodies. With three rapid motions, Maddaughter Tesa beheads them, scooping up her treasures in a stained canvas bag. I can see a hand thrust out of the ground, then another and another. Soon, mummified creatures of every shape and size are converging on the warrior below. Bloodmace and I leap down from our hiding place and rush headlong into the fray.

The winner of night for me were Australian black metal brutarians Destroyer666. Also infused with thrash, but of the sick, primitive, necro variety, ala Onslaught, Venom, and Hellhammer. To The Devil His Due is a collection of remastered 7 inch eps, showcasing a few lurches in style, adding a bit of variety to the hellish din. The songs range from very raw blackened thrash to very raw black metal at varying tempos and at varying levels of necro, all delivered with primal hatred for all mankind and your weak Christian God. This is good music for drinking lots of beer and whiskey, preferably at the same time while smoking crystal meth while pissing on your mother's grave and then masturbating with sand paper while detonating a bomb at your local Presbyterian youth center. Or just chillin'.

Into the Necro Lands Part 2.2 - Dark Highway

A so-called "Necromancer's Alarm" is a powerful spell that allows a wizard to plant corpses anywhere within a certain radius and they can be animated against a foe with the flip of a switch, even by someone with no magical ability. Whoever set this trap was no amateur. There were

hundreds of leathery bodies throwing themselves at us. None were hard to kill, but they would pile over you, biting and clawing until you were dragged down. "Look out Tesa!" I cried as a blast of flame from the bathory patch exploded from my left hand, cutting a swath through the ragged throng. Losi and Birdblood were fighting their way toward the center of the maelstrom as well when we all heard the booming voice of Bloodmace, "Stand back, and let the power of christ handle these fuckers!" I whirl around just in time to see Bloodmace grabbing his Stryper belt buckle and dive to the side just as a beam of warm white light pours fourth from the waist of the mighty warrior, causing the desiccated corpses to crumble before our eyes. A horrible stench fills the air as the bodies lose form and Tesa motions to us, "Get the cruiser, we have to make tracks before Necro Baby sends help. On to the Nest of Evil!" Losi sprints to the fence and leaps over, catlike. Smashing the window of the transport with her elbow, she jumps in and has it started in moments. The timid fence puts up no resistance as the slight wolfspawn pilots the truck through the barricade and round to where we are standing. As the transport pulls away into the dunes, a black duck takes flight, winging into the sky. It vaults above the rippled sand, sailing southwest into the necro lands.

Mistress Crowbastard showed up right in the middle of grind gods Rotted Sound's second album, Drain, which was kicking our asses anyway, but Crowbastard decided to finish the job. She did this just because she felt like it. While she was pummeling us with her titanium plated num-chucks, Drain proved to be the perfect soundtrack. This is grindcore with the deftness of a jazz combo and the ferocity of a weasel on crack. Occasionally, they lapse into such jazz foolishness as such as employing the rim shot. Might as well have a flute solo to slap on top. But these moments are relatively brief. Then it is back to making your synapses into mush in exactly the way we like, which is more than I can say for the agonizing punishment doled out by Mistress Crowbastard. Ouchh!!!!!!

Words of the Elders

The necro lands are singing their deadly song. It is a poem of sorrow and hatred that speaks to the dark places, deep within the soul. Like the spear of Chemlok, our champions plunge into the heart of this mysterious land with the power of the very gods, for the time has been long since the dwellers of Centon have tasted the sweet water of freedom. 

 

Until next week, hellish hooligans, 

Horns

Oak and Aspen - A Tale of Demon Scourge and Evil Black Metal

There is no hope in this world and in many others. Evil spreads it's blood and viscera stained hands over many universes, devouring souls in the gaping maw of its own banality.  At times, it's best to just give into the darkness, and hide from the light, hoping that it leaves you only mildly damaged when it  finally stops fistfucking you with Satan's crimson colored rubber dildo hands. Time to put away the the happy German power metal. Time to put away the party rock. It's time to listen to some fucking black metal!!!!

First, we heard Norway's black metal occultists Kvist and their only full album, For Kunsten Maa Vi Evig Vike . This was an unusual and sweet find, an overlooked black metal gem from 1996. At first glance,  they may seem like another of  the keyboards and corpse paint ilk, a trend that nearly drowned the entire genre in the 90's. A closer listen will reveal another layer of complexity, that this band owned a fucking time machine and simply got a peak at where black metal was in 2005. The drums are oddly bass petal driven, and if you take away the keyboards and add jazz chords, this could be mistaken for 'Northern Darkness' era Immortal. The production is crystal clear and not slathered in a layer of white noise, so you can hear the thick intricacies up front, letting you dance away the night  to the death waltzing melodies. It's well produced without sounding sterile, as organic as coffin rot. It's fucking epic and fucks your face with ten thousand Satanic dicks. Winner of the night.

Lives of the Noble Centonians Part 3.1 - Cursed Earth I Go On
Jenkabala City is a teeming metropolis, situated near the Lomorian Ocean on the great River Trimpor, the largest trade route in Centon. It is the oldest human settlement in this strange realm, having been founded in the first age of Centon, the time of the Chevelargo and husketel . In the northwest corner of this bustling center, there stands a dim neighborhood whose streets and lanes are made of old fashioned oppenstone, it's greenish gray hue reflected in the faces of its inhabitants. Indeed, even on clear days there seems to be a pall cast over the ten block collection of antique storefronts, crumbling dwellings and gambrel roofed warehouses. It is here that, for generations, the last of the Centonian mystics have studied the ancient texts and music of the elder humans. It was a drab afternoon in the

month of Havat that a lone adolescent human, clad in a long black coat wandered through the stone archway on Parthway Street. Long brown hair cascaded over the worn collar of his jacket and when he took his hands out of his pocket to light a cigarette, his lanky arms protruded too far out of the sleeves. Heading north with a purposeful yet awkward gait, the youth makes his way through the monochrome landscape. From under the brim of his hat, the stranger's eyes dart furtively about, as if weary of hidden attackers. Just past the square at Anton Street, where the hundred gods were represented in sculpture, he stops before the window of a small storefront. The plain gold lettering on the dingy glass reads reads "Tomor's Books." He peers into the store, pressing his face against the pane, searching for signs of life in the darkened emporium. Wiping hands on his dirty jeans, he tries the doorknob and seems surprised when it opens into the shop with a tinkling of bells from above. Several cats scurry about as he searches the room for a clerk. The long room extends into darkness before him, two tall bookshelves in the center that split the space into three hallways. Catiously, he begins walking down the center, stopping every now and then to examine the spines of the volumes that line the shelves. From the black distance, a light appears, growing closer and closer to the squinting shopper. Slowly the flicker widens as it nears the young man, revealing a husky human in stretch pants and a T shirt. His tall blonde mane sits proudly atop his head, terminating near his belt. Staring out from heavy lids, a cigarette dangling from the corner of his mouth, the candle bearing shop keep introduces himself in a lazy Samurian drawl, "What'cha lookin' for, son? We ain't got nothin' here for you young folk, now get on." The adolescent wanderer rolls up the sleeve of the ill fitting trench coat, revealing the sacred symbol of the Jenkabala elders, "I am Demon Scourge of Jenkabala Castle, and this is what I seek." With his other hand, the prince reaches into his pocket and produces a shriveled hand, an ornate crystal ring hanging from the tattered middle finger and drops it on the thick red shag carpet before the shocked book dealer, who hastens back into the darkness. "I'm goin' now" He calls behind him with a smile, "This is gonna be a helluva year son!"

Next, French Canadians Sui Caedere  fucked our unholy faces with an atmospheric and slightly more necro approach one their single album, 2009's Threne. This is a mid-tempo evil with tasteful keyboards, Burzumy drone guitars, and also hellish crossfire on wooden coffins double bass approach, although not nearly as proggy as the previous album. All the songs bleed into the next, average 7-8 minutes in length providing the perfect atmosphere for lazing away the day in a stinking crypt. Good stuff for the tough.


 Lives of the Noble Centonians Part 2.2  - Shoe of the Dead

Night had fallen on the River Trimpor when Demon Scourge choser a place to camp. He pulled his canoe ashore and pitched a tent. Lighting a small oil lamp, he began to examine the book he had traveled so far to obtain. Though this mark on his arm had been a burden to him up to now, he found it made him very interesting to people in Jenkabala City, sometimes too much so. For the last day he spent in the crowded city, he swore he was being followed by an elderly sauroped. Perhaps word of his presence had gotten back to the elder council of the great city. They had many reasons to be

concerned about his presence among them, for as Demon Scourge had learned in his seventeenth year, he was the true heir to Jenkabala castle and all the lands around it. The book was bound in red with an ornately crafted spine and the angular lettering was in old Samurian. Upon the cover was embossed a pattern of fruit bearing boughs twined with five fanged serpents. To his surprise, the frontispiece was a portrait of his father with two young boys. He recognized himself and his father from portraits his uncle Vod had given him when he was of age, but what of the other boy? Obviously it was his brother, but why had his guardian not tell him of this also? A twig snaps nearby and instinctively the hand of the Jenkabalan heir grasps the handle of the short sword on his belt. A rasping voice comes out of the darkness behind him, "So, they have sent you after all, the fools." Demon Scourge leaps forward and whirls around, sword drawn. Into the dim light of the small lantern steps the mysterious sauroped he had seen before, "I am unarmed, son of Bloodhammer, let me speak." The youthful warrior sheaths his blade and the two legged lizard continues, "You have no Idea of the things you have set in motion, and that is good for you. All you need to know right now is that you will venture south to Castle Thrashstone" Puzzled, Demon Scourge shoots back, "What is this Castle Thrashstone and why should I listen to you? Even as we speak your brothers are rounding up humans to be enslaved for the building of

temples to their infernal masters." The long snouted elder becomes aroused, "You must go now. Go south until you reach the hills of Samnor and find Krem Argoth in his keep, he is a friend." The elder takes off his cloak, revealing a leather jacket covered by a denim vest, sewn everywhere with embroidered patches. He reached out and touches one with his scaly hand. Everything goes dark and suddenly Demon Scourge can see a bird’s eye view of the landscape. He can see the spot where his body stands with the sauroped then moving to the north a great number of torches. As the bird swoops closer he can identify the armor of the elite city guard. They have found him out. In a blink he is on the ground. "Go!" Yells the sauroped standing across from him, "Go while you have the chance!" The hunted teen, terrified now, grabs the book and the canoe and shoves off into the river, heading south. "Bloodmace!" Calls the voice from the shore as the figure grows smaller and smaller, "Bloodmace!"


Lastly, Gallowbraid crushed our collective nutsacks with their slighly folksy, rather upbeat black metal ep, Ashen Eidolon.(It's strange that 40 minute albums are considered eps these days.) This is the sound of celebration after warlock goblins eat the flesh of white wizards. The rhythms have a slight disco feel, some acoustics are strummed and the occasion piano is tinkled. Reminds me of Nargaroth. This is a pretty good album, but failed to capture our attention as our drunken antics progressed beyond the point of no fucking return.


Words of the Elders

Demon Scourge! Master of the starways and evil defiler to sacred temples of all and sundry! The orphaned youth who spent his youth in a fantasy world has awakened into the realm of possibility and power. Prepare world, prepare for the return of the vanquished! Prepare for the coming of the brothers three!

Until next week, hammerhead hellraisers, 



Horns

Stellar Master Elite - Industrial Metal at Thrashstone With the Legend of Bloodmace and Demon Scourge

The mass of men and muscle labor infinity, the sweat glistening from their furrowed brows, as the grey hulks of industry, molten steel and heavy hammers, oppress both landscapes and souls. As I write this sentence, Rob Halford gets an erection while thinking these very same thoughts. Indeed, such an apocalyptic landscape can summon something near beauty in the mind of riivetheads worldwide. Tonight, we consider three classics of the industrial metal sphere. Tonight, we dive head first into the slag thresher for METAL NIGHT!!!!!!

First up, Prong's 1994 chuggernaut Cleansing bowled us over with 4 song of pummeling sonic intensity and riff craft. And then it petered out. But it was interesting. But seriously, the first 4 songs define the album with their tightly compressed riffs and concise and sometimes danceable rhythms. From there, it gradually gets less interesting and definitely less intense, employing many typical 90's nu metal type textures, lot's of dissonance over vaguely funky/hard grooves, though fortunately sparing us any inane riffs typical of that genre. And that's all ok, since this is the band that pioneered that approach in the first place.

Epilog Part 1.1 - Dream Long Dead

All was quiet in the ruined tower. I sat among piles of rubble and the blood covered detritus that once was our great library. Our long quest was over, Headron had been defeated, but now what was to become of our beloved world, Centon? Looking out from the smashed battlement I could see a breathtaking vista of destruction spread out before me in the misty light of dawn. I looked to the twin thrones, now lying in pieces on the dusty stone floor, and reflected on the beginning of our path, when the insatiable Lord Headron possessed Zodron the Minstrel and caused him to attack us. Vowing revenge, swords in hand, we set out to find Lord Headron in Dantor and put an end to his rule. On the way we met the legion of heroes: Hellmaster and Lady Deathcrush, Master Raknar and Tolar the Mystic. Together we traveled through Samur and the Time Desert, seeking a way into the dimension where Headron worked his hateful magic. We were just about to cross into Dantor through a gate we had opened inside the throne room of Castle Thrashstone when Headron took possession of my body and caused me to slay my companions without mercy. Darkness descended over our

kingdom. Headron occupied our home and became ruler of all Centon when he allied with the Wyvern, powerful dragons who represented the five royal bloodlines. Unbeknownst to the ascendent tyrant, however, there was a stirring in the Time Desert. Vorthon the Whip of Fate, a former student of Bloodmace, had heard the tales of our demise and took up residence in the ruins of the desert castle with the crytophysicist Hellwraith. Immediately they began working on the tools to resurrect us at the peak of Mount Tarvo in Waylolr. They enlisted Baron Lotar, the famous tyrant and sentinel of northern Waylor and also his bitter enemy, Lady Steel of Keep Trawston. The unlikely band of adventurers and magicians somehow did manage to free us from the inky void, but we were immediately shanghaied by our father, Bloodhammer, who was buried under the mountain. He sent us back to Jenkabala, to the enchanted sourwood tree where Chanthoth, last of the T'chah Karnac was imprisoned. The mystic then sent Bloodmace into the Time Desert, to mend the dimensional rift I caused while possessed by Headron. I was sent with Fester Blackheart and Ophelia Skullbourne to the lair of Iron Dan, where
the last traces of Headron's spell were removed from my mind. While there, I was introduced to Frostor the Bounty Hunter, who joined us for a perilous battle with the Wyvern elders. Bloodmace, who had returned with Hellmaster, Lady Deathcrush and Master Raknar, saved the day in a death defying duel in the treetops. From there Duchess VonDoom took us to Samur, where we visited the castle of Mistress Crowbastard, who transported us to Narn, the midway point between the walking dimensions and the spirit realm. While we were there, we met Lars the Berserker who owned one of the sacred denim and leather jackets from ancient times. We rowed across the spirit lake to the island of Va, where Iron Dan's father, Parthon the Elder, sent us to Dantor. Jarkon the Inflamer introduced us to the spider king, Rangar the Sectaurian and with the help of Vecton the Bard, we stormed the castle of our enemy. Unfortunatly, upon our return to Centon, a new enemy had risen to challenge us, the fearsome Necro Baby.

Next, a sentimental favorite. Godflesh's Streetcleaner fucked us to death with it's bleak industrial cock. This is one of the seminal albums of the industrial metal genre and one that seered itself to my black soul many years ago, when I first heard the title song on Earache's Grindcrusher comp. This album, released in 1989, is still just as heavy, just as crushing, and just as revolutionary as it was then. Fascist hatescapes are offered as songs, each one more oppressive than the rest. Somehow, a trace of melody elevates the absolute nihilism of tone, making catharsis possible, a technique explored more in depth on their classic album, Pure. Also, it was really nice hear this album blasted Hellmaster's state of the art sound system at Castle Thrashstone.

Epilog Part 1.2 - Home Rule

I am awakened from my reverie by Rangar the Sectaurian and Bloodmace, who have come from a tour of the disaster area that was once our home. My brother has found our scepters and capes and he jovially hands me the ceremonial accouterments, "Well, the palace is wrecked, but at least we still have our monkey suits!" Rangar and the crude barbarian fall out laughing. The spider lord composes himself and stretches out this hand to me, "My friend, Lars and I must travel back to Dantor. We have much to do in our own dimension." Behind the weary warriors, Lars the Berserker appears, his fur cloak matted with blood. He puts has hand on my shoulder and says, "You have done well my brothers. I have something for you." From a sachel hanging on his belt, he pulls two embroidered patches, "You will need these to find the fifth jacket. The unexpectedly heavy patches have the

Mercyful Fate logo sewn into them. Rangar speaks again, "You can also call us with the patches we have given you." I look down at the Mornful Congregation patch the spider king gave to me before our battle with Headron. Blue light bathes the room as the portal in the the remaining wall begins to open. Bloodmace calls out from behind me, "Safe travels to you, lords of Dantor!" He rushes up to embrace our new commrades but their forms have already fadede into the louminous mist. The throne room is once agqain silent. Bloodmace looks at me and I at him. "What now, brother?" I ask the hulking savage. He looks out at the sunrise and replies, "We have a kingom to rule, and one big problem with Necro Baby." His serious face is illuminated by the sun breaking above the trees, "First, we build a new Jenkabala palace. Let us call the druids back. Now is the time to strike!"

 But the winner of the night, as much as I love Godflesh, went to black metal icon Thorns and their one eponymous full length release. This is a classic black metal album that I had overlooked and it kicked my fucking ass. This is black metal in the classic sense;; a little bit of Emperor riffage here, some Darkthrone tones there, a Satyricon burp, you know the score, but all of this is delivered with the addition of the cold industrialism and experimentation.. It does indeed at times resemble Dr. Mengle's horror lab in the level of weird wonder layered over the wickedly delivered metal, reminding one of Sigh, but much tighter and focused in attack. This album was released in 2001. This album migt have been released much earlier if the Thorns guy hadn't been with Varg when he stabbed Euronymous in the face back in the day. He went to jail.

Words of the Elders

A time of transitions is always painful. With every triumph there is a million paths not followed, untold destinies that dissipate as every moment dies. As the legion of heroes makes their way through the labyrinthine catacombs of fate, the evil Necro Baby watches, waiting for her chance to destroy the bonds that hold them together. Join us as we boldly plunge into the foggy realms where past and future mingle!

Until next week, dangerous druids,

Horns