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.

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15.00 + 4.00 shipping

Walk Through fire - Bird Bands and Sekran's Gate

Birds. They are an efficient evolutionary machine, the true heirs to the dinosaurs. They feast on flesh. They crap on your head. They fucking fly through the air and laugh at you because you can't do that shit by yourself because you are just a worthless human. They know that the sky belongs to them! Lady Birdblood claims them as her spirit guides of evil. Iiiiiia!!!!!!! Iiiiiia!!!!! Squaaaak!!!!!! So why not have a Metal Night devoted to bands named after fucking birds, man???

Unfortunately, the first bird band we heard (heh) was Pelican and their very boring  first album, Australasia. This is pretentious sludge metal with the evil intentions scooped out,  making it acceptable to dudes who really couldn't give a fuck about metal anyway. It's entirely instrumental, featuring much delicate sounding arpeggiated strumming;  a dense, if somewhat polite, guitar tone; and riffs that really try hard to be heavy, but seem too airy to hold much weight . The song structures are semi-complicated, Rush-like affairs. Demon Scourge said it reminded him of Slint. Fucking hipsters!


Into the Necro Lands Part 10.1 - Human Foot

To the casual traveler, the smell of Sekran's suburbs is only just bearable. The sickening odor of the crematoriums, where the city's necromancers come to dispose of their rotting servants, fills the air with a foul haze. Everywhere there is death, from the sickly bone gates to the moaning corpses in their stables, waiting for their master's orders. In this place of suffering there is but one thoroughfare, Ra'l-Torth. From the stone wall of the castle it winds down the hill, past the houses of gatemonks and merchants, whose stark dwellings betray little of the bustling chaos below. At the port, where the clean sea air sometimes manages to banish the city's stench, the road turns west and descends to the shore. Along this stretch is the market, where supplies are traded and deals are made for

assassinations in far off lands. Merchants, whose faces are stained with the traditional corpsepaint of the Necro Tribe, stand patiently under their drab canvas tents. Salted meats and potable water are stacked alongside casks of loose bones, exotic feathers and the region's famous orcite beads. Sailors have long shunned the strange town and are known to stay aboard ship save to unload their cargo. If supplies are needed, they always travel in groups, for many among their number have disappeared into the labyrinth of dirt paths and foreboding huts throughout the years. Just past the bustle of the city's markets, but before the land meets the ocean, the outer suburbs skulk across the hillside. Here are found the worst of the worst, a monastery of perversion that few who enter ever leave. The economic fuel of this wasteland is a drug known as teffiv, manufactured from a kind of coral found only in the shallow waters nearby. When refined and combined with the dried scales of the lapin, a powerful psychotropic drug is formed that causes the users brain to function at many times its normal ability, but the onset of addiction is inevitably followed by death, usually within a year. Most of the denizens of this cursed place are those unfortunates who are living out their last year, working at one of the many refineries that dot Sekran's lower hill and performing unspeakable acts upon any that might come under their hands during the night.

We finally got the night off the right way when we put on NWOBHM progenitors Raven's sterling 2010 thrashterpiece, Walk Through Fire. What really amazing about this album is how it is just the same as their early 80' classics, and just as exciting as those early classics, and in some cases exceeds those albums, especially on the production, which is modern, updated, and in your fucking face like a big hairy arm pit. Raven piss all over Anvil, who they resemble the most in spirit and relative IQ. There is not a bad song or embarrassing moment on this album. This was my personal winner of the night, though the others digress.


Into the Necro Lands Part  10.2 - Theme of Loudness Part II

Bloodmace and I, moving under cover of the day, when the necromancer's powers were not as keen, had made it this far without detection. By not using the main road, we hoped to avoid any

confrontation with soldiers, who were undoubtedly looking for us by now. All around us, the high pitched rattle of coral being ground into dust could be heard. Low, black buildings were scattered in with clusters of makeshift tents. There were few pedestrians this time of day, but those who did show themselves were quickly repelled by a flash of our weapons. The desolation soon gave way to the markets, where we purchased some bones and beads to look more like Necrites. It was almost dusk when we made our way through the quiet district of severe little gray and black houses that stood before the city gates. Silently, we approached the towering edifice that stood before us and the castle. A small sign be the roadside pointed in the direction of a small entrance to the right of the massive aperture where two humanoid wolves stood guard. The larger one holds up his hand to stop us, "What is your business here?" I reply, "We have an assassination contract to be witnessed in the great hall."

Wordlessly he waves us through. Inside the vestibule, more guards search through our belongings before handing us each a piece of paper, "You must present this to any member of the security forces upon request." We both nod at the desk officer and pass through the carven door into the great courtyard of Sekran where necromancers, dignitaries of every land and the great throng of city folk who lived within the safety of this fortified complex mingled in the gathering darkness. The business day was about to begin and we walked through a row of vendors with steamed buns and fresh fruit, past an area where old men drank their dusk cocktails and argued over the daily papers, right to the door of the great hall. Beyond this worn wooden gate was the economic heart of the city, where teffiv and other agricultural futures were traded. This was also the place assassins and their clients came to have their agreement ratified and made legal. This was the first place we were to conceal one of the sigils. We pushed our way through the crowd into the long hall. To our right was the marketplace. Screens ticked off figures as the early traders began their cacophonous dealings. We hurried down the large

corridor until we spotted the sign for the clerk. Stepping out of the din, we enter an almost empty waiting room where several rows of benches stand between us and a tall counter and a breathtaking sectaurian is typing on several keyboards with her six arms. Aside from the extra appendages and translucent wings, her figure was very human-looking and covered with a shiny armor of exoskeleton. I noticed that Bloodmace was also surprised to see one from such a far-off place. We approached and with a little smile, the clerk said, "What precinct please?" I froze for a moment, forgetting that they would ask me where the killing was supposed to take place, "Ar...Arvid," I stutter."I haven't seen you around here before," the smile on her face turning suddenly mischievous, "Where is your office?" Bloodmace pipes up, pounding his chest, "I am me, alone. My office is here," pointing to his heart.

The sectaur before us chuckles as she indicates the waiting room with one of her delicate hands, "The sergeant will see you in a moment." We turn and walk back to one of the long benches. Several cloaked figures are loitering around the room, some standing, some seated. At the end of one of one row, seated far from any of the cloaked figures, were two Samurian businessmen, one saurian and one human. They looked nervously about, as if they were afraid of being seen. It was, after all, not unheard of for those who came to order a death to be targeted themselves after being seen here. An electronic bell softly tolled and a chilak emerged from the inner offices. His many stubby legs propeled his stout, transparent body across the carpet as tiny eyes peered out from the rigid flaps of bumpy skin that covered his head. "Kratath?" He says loudly in his strange, pinched voice. The nervous Samurians hurry after the creeping civil servant, followed by two of the cloaked necromancers. I am inadvertently staring at the Sectaurian behind the desk, half daydreaming, when an idea hits me. I turn to Bloodmace, "Give me a sheet of that paper."

Then we heard the Swedish power metal godz Falconer and their 2002 album, Chapters of a Vale Forlorn.  This is powerful metal in full He-Man mode, with Nordic Viking vocals work that steals your woman and pillages your land with a clean yodel. The riffs are mighty and strong. The production is nice and shiny. The drums and bass and keyboards are well...they are there to paddle the longboat to Valhalla in a workmanlike manner. These Vikings smell clean and fresh. Amon Amarth.....they are not.

Lastly was the novelty album. Hatebeak is not a serious band, or a good band, but they are a band that releases product. But they do have the advantage of having an actual avian, a goddamn African grey parrot called Waldo, as lead vocalist. Thier 2005 split EP with Canius, a band who just so happens to have a pitbull as lead vocalist, is good for....ahem.... a hoot. It's a good for one listen at a party with your inebriated friends......and nothing more.



Words of the Elders
The secrets of the Necro Lands are prodigious and not learnt without forfeit of this mortal coil. Here in the realm of death, the currency is souls and the law is strength. Necro Baby and Iron James sit upon the throne of skulls here, their icy hands moving the pieces on this checkerboard of nights and days as the hundred gods watch with bated breath. Zagrieb, carry us in your pouch of might!, Lorko, fill the air with song! Let this incense carry our prayers beyond the realm of gods and find purchase with inscrutable fate! 

Until next time, loathsome lurkers, 




Horns

Strongest of the Night - Lady Steel Visits Castle Stonefist and Bands with Satan in Their Name

We had been celebrating the return of Bloodmace for seven days when Vecton the Bard burst fourth from a mound of cocaine he had been making into an igloo, "Do you realize it's metal night?" Wild eyed, he ran into the night, returning with three albums from the sacred vault of hot licks. Clearly, it was going to be a night of evil, a night of laughing trees and wicked emperors, but above all a night of satan Satan SATAN! As the gates creaked open and the flames licked the walls of the sacred Jenkabala Temple we could hear evil laughter and smell the sulfurous gasses escaping from the lair of the god of light. Charging like Maciste into the underworld, swords drawn, we confronted...bands with Satan in their name!

Noted NWOBHM stalwarts, Satan tore up the early slot with the great riff that opens their 2013 album, Life Sentence. A good, balanced trad metal album with really cool guitar harmonies throughout and a production that's just lo-fi enough to make it sound rough in the right spots. Interestingly enough the current incarnation is truly the classic lineup, right down to the drummer, perhaps that accounts for their remarkably on point recreation and refining of their original sound. Emperor Bloodmace's pick for winner of the night!

Lives of the Noble Centonians Part 7.1 - Tears of Blood

Lady Steel had traveled many miles to the southern tip of Centon. Her party trudged through the bright, rocky landscape under an unrelenting sun. The stern warrior had taken three of her high priestesses from their home on Mount Trawston to meet her brothers, Bloodmace and Demon Scourge. There had been talk of strange enemies in the northern forest unlike any they had thus far encountered. Word had been sent to the mountain fortress by way of bird messenger to meet at the home of Skyrock the Cursebringer where information from every corner of the strange continent

could be compared. The dwelling in question came into view in the high noon sun. A great crooked mansion, sprawling and mismatched sat impassively upon a far-off butte. Lady Steel motioned with her hand and the party stopped to water the theeba and rest before the final push to their destination. As the lizards long tongues greedily slurped the water they were offered, the women gather around their leader. Squinting her eyes a little, she addresses them, "We will soon arrive. Be on your guard. whatever force has penetrated the dimensional barrier may know about our meeting and send spies or assassins. The monks in Villa Stonefist are serious but trustworthy, but my brothers are not. I hear they have lately taken residence in the old Jenkabala Castle with the other relics of the north. Watch them closely, for they may try to steal from us."

Metal from Hell by the American thrash/power outfit Satan's Host was our second journey into the darkness. Everyone in the room noted the diversity present in the songwriting, moving from a thrash style that verged on black metal to soaring power metal sections and galloping speed metal, the composition and instrumental prowess easily overcame the muddy production. I first heard this album a couple years ago when Jag Panzer was the order of the day and I was hungry for anything with Harry Conklin's gruff wail, so this is a favorite of mine. The claustrophobic atmosphere of the recording and brain smashing tempos work together to give this record a cool "underground" feel that JP left behind after Ample Destruction. Recommended!

Lives of the Noble Centonians Part 7.2 - Siege Mentality

When Lady Steel and her party reached the top of the rocky hill they beheld an iron gate surrounding the hulking edifice that was home base for the faithful brethren of Elom and their high priest, Skyrock. The palace before them looked pieced together, one section with marble pillars and neat

lines, the next a ramshackle barn that was connected to a tall tower of black stone. They approached the tattooed guards at the entrance, muscle bound humans who stood impassively as the group of

cloaked priestess stood before them , "What is your business here strangers?" The statuesque leader of the group stepped forward, "We are the envoy of Keep Trawston." pulling back the white hood, she adds, "I am Lady Steel." The sentries cross their arms before their chests and open the gate. The travelers cross the grounds of the great house, a sprawling garden of edible plants in raised beds. As they near the palace, Skyrock Cursebringer emerges from one of the many doors that dot the front of the strange fortress. His tousled blonde hair rises above the bronze crown atop his head and wild eyes stare out from behind his high set cheekbones. A scarf with human and animal bones is thrown around his neck. He motions for them to follow and enters the stone tower. Up the spiral stair they went, to a room at the very top of the dim passage. Skyrock opens a heavy wooden door to reveal humans from every kingdom gathered around an ancient looking sourwood table. Her brothers, Bloodmace and Demon Scourge were there as well as Lady Birdblood, Vecton the Bard and Hellmaster. "Welcome Sister," Says Bloodmace, "Come sit with us, we have much to discuss." Behind them the door latches shut, the council is in session...

Our final foray into devil monikered bands was France's Satan Jokers and their album from 1983, Les Fils Du Metal. This was by far the most old fashioned sounding of all the music we sampled tonight. It's readily apparent where the songwriting influences come from. A little Maiden and Priest here, some Rainbow and Deep Purple there, in '83 there wasn't the dizzying array of sub and sub-sub genres that bloom in the blood fertilized gardens of metal today. In the early times, a metal band was a metal band no matter if you were Slayer or Hanoi Rocks. That being said, I found this album to be very listenable, recalling Blitzkrieg or early Loudness.

Words of the Elders

What terrible mysteries are afoot on the Centonian plains? Talk is spreading throughout the villages of dark riders and slithering fiends that stalk the lonely hinterlands when the wind howls and the moon casts its icy stare on the wilderness below. A shadow has fallen over the land and as in days of old, the heroes have come forward to beat off the invaders with a firm hand.

Until Next week, blood ravens,

Horns

Saints in Hell - Judas Priest, Vecton the Bard and Safety Shuriken Mayhem

Some things are eternal, like the sun, like waffles, like leather. And like Judas Priest. Priest are the Beatles of Heavy Metal, and not overrated like them either, but ever changing, but forever written into the collective unconscious by unseen hands. On this Metal Night, Demon Scourge, VectonThe Bard, and myself make the required sacraments and unleash the Metal Gods upon the bleeding earth.

In order to get into the proper mindset to fully appreciate the first album we heard, 1984's Defenders of the Faith, we must travel back in time to the summer of that hallowed years. Your older brother is pissed. He was in a bad mood, anyway, since this new project he called  a 'meth lab' blew up in his face. But he discovered that his soon to be mightily worn cassette of Defenders of the Faith is missing. Now the only thing he has to listen to is Quiet Riot and 38 Special, his only other two

cassettes, since he took his record collection to the pawn shop last Thursday. And he knows you have it, since he left it in the cassette deck of his Chevy Nova and you have stolen his car. You are

currently riding the roads, guzzling PBR's(when it was just a cheap beer and not an ironic hipster non-statement) with that bitch What's Her Name, relishing the dirt weed buzz from the stash that your brother also left in the fucking car. Soon, That Bitch is gonna give you head in some secluded parking lot. You have timed it so that 'Eat Me Alive' will be playing while she swizzles your stick. Your brother may be a dick, but at least he has good taste in music. Defenders is a sweet fuckin' album, though not as good a Screaming For Vengeance. A lot of kick ass, hard edged songs, kinda cheesy, but in the way you like it. Life is good, dude. Your brother is gonna beat the living shit out of you when you get home, so you gotta learn to appreciate moments like these. He's a secret fag, anyway, so he won't be breakin' no bones. 

 Adventure in Samur Part 10.1 - Rock Hard, Ride Free
When the great pop that heralds our incursion into the next dimension splits our ears we behold the deep purple sun that blazes above the rocky and desolate Dantorian landscape. when I look around me I can see that everyone, thankfully, was able to don the magical garments in time. We are not far above the ground when we come through and the great beast quickly descends to the ground, breaking into a run as it lands. Lars yells out, "Everybody hang on, it's about to get rough!" Clenching tight to the sharp metallic skin of the Memporian, I look ahead of us to see a towering black shape moving quickly towards us. In the dark purple light I can just make out two tusks protruding out from under a charcoal colored trunk. The body is similar to that of an elephant, but with long black hair that cascades from its back down almost to the mammoth feet. The beast's beady eyes, set close together in it's enormous head, shone out at us with a frightening intensity. Atop the mount on the beast's back stands a skeletal warrior, clutching a gleaming cutlass. With a jerk of the reigns, the ghostly mastodon lifts its great ears to reveal two laser cannons. The Memporian leaps quickly into the air with surprising grace, the first volley just barely glancing off its golden tail as it takes to the air. Our opponent wheels around and rearing up, fires two more shots that strike the underside of our flying friend

Fast forward to the current date, and you are burnt out on black metal, death metal, post-death doom drone metal, post everything metal. Time to go back to the classics. Sin After Sin was state of the art back in 1977. Fuck punk, this is the shit right here. Heavy metal at the time was pretty much just critic's jargon for heavier rock music like Zeppelin and Sabbath. Priest made it into something else entirely. Never before had rock n roll been infused with such high octane drama, such crushing riffs, all at faster tempos than previously. Priest started the trend of the 'kick in the ass' metal needs every 5 to 10 years, since, occasionally, they made Sabbath look like choir boys. This album features their first 'hit', Diamonds and Rust, a Joan Baez cover, but that is just side show. The real attraction here is the bloody meat in tracks like Sinner and Dissident Aggressor. There is some 70's style noodling here and there, and yeah, this isn't exactly a screaming iron fest like Pain Killer by today's standard, but it is enough to singe your cunt hairs, dude.

Adventure in Samur part 10.2 - Starbreaker

The Memporian lets out a high, keening screech, turning in the air so the bony knight is still beneath us. I long to use my patches to destroy our foe, but to do so would give away our position to Lord 

Dantor. I can see the weapons being aimed once again at us when I hear another scream, guttural and terrifying. Turning, I behold Lars the Berserker falling through the air, a large spiked cudgel in one hand. He lands square upon the back of the skeleton piloting the attacking beast, shattering its dusty bones into a thousand pieces, then falls to the ground beneath the lumbering attacker. At that moment, Mistress Crowbastard raises her arms into the air and takes on her bird form, diving to the aid of the rash barbarian. Bloodmace and I hang on for our lives as we come in for another landing. We are shaken violently as the great lizard hits the ground running, skidding to a halt some distance from the action. Claw outstretched, Crowbastard knocks one of the deadly cannons from beneath the ear of the rampaging beast, tearing asunder the leathery appendage that conceals it while Lars strikes the beast on the back of one of its forelegs, bringing it to the ground. As the enemy falls with a pitiful cry it gets off a final shot that hits the shape shifting crone in one of her wings. In her moment of triumph the mighty mistress comes crashing to the ground next to her fallen adversary. Even before the tattered form of our friend and protector hits the sand, the Berserker flies into a trance like rage, smashing through the skull of his injured foe with a single strike. His body twisted in transports of spiritual agony, the possessed warrior carves a tunnel of gore into the head of the massive beast, blood and tissue exploding into the humid air. Bloodmace and I run across the expanse of scrubby wilderness that separates us from the battle.

But 1978's Stained Class ended up as the winner of the night and here is why: class. 70's Priest was fucking classy, dude. Priest would under go a process of streamlining that would lead up to their classic British Steel album, forever trying to find that AOR hit single that would launch them to super stardom and more money than god status, which they eventual did find in Breakin' The Law. But along the way, they wrote some awfully intelligent tunes that was in no way dumbed down  for 'the kids' like their 80's output became. Stained Class is like sci-fi poetry, setting precedent for exploring philosophical lyrical matter in a non-preachy way that Priest would abandon, but other much younger bands would later explore. And holy fuck are there some good tunes on this fucker. Another cover(another sideshow), and meat meat and more meat. Ain't no starchy shit, it's all fucking meat motherfuckers. MEAT!!!!!!!! Savage, Exciter, and the title track are crushing classics, but Beyond The Realms of Death is the real sumbitch on this album. An ode to death and alienation that inspired some douchbags to shoot their faces off to this song in the 80's....hey, I can understand getting caught up in the excitement. But any dumb dickhead that wants to kill themselves does not realize that they will never be able to listen to Judas Priest ever again. And that's a good reason to wanna live forever.

 Words of the Elders
Danger! Action! Potency! The legacy of Bloodmace and Demon Scourge is the child, Necro Baby, who came to them wrapped in a garbage bag and covered in blood. They raised this child and taught it the ways of metal and now we must call on the beast. O people of Centon, hear the crackling of the black loam that heralds the end of this evil epoch. The lords of dawn have risen and light shall flood over this land, banishing the old rulers into the dark corners of legend.

Until next week, Tarnished Titans








Horns

Astral Rider - NWOBHM hijinks and the Great Spirit Lake

Put down the spikes and chains and your bloody vengeance against the Christ!!!! Stop raping the necro baby for once! Pick up some beers and listen to some NWOBHM with us, dude!!!!!!!

Cloven Hoof's A Sultan's Ransom is one of the reasons why Metal Night exists; to discover obscure gems like this. Released in 1989, and thoroughly out of style by that time, and despite a shitty album cover and lackluster production, this album out-Maidens Iron Maiden's output at the time. The songs are clear, concise, and somewhat poppy, with a dash of Dokken in the vocal work and Jake E. Lee era Ozzy in the guitar work. Songs like Silver Surfer and Astral Rider are shiny gems that might have been considered classics had this album been released in 1982 instead of the heyday of thrash and condemned to haunt the bargain bins of yore. Damn shame. Winner of the night!

 Adventure in Samur Part 6.1 - Into the Veil

The Spirit Lake was misty as our long boat cut through the cold water, its carven bow guiding us through the strange waters like a dragon flying through the clouds. At the helm was Lars the Berserker, his long beard crystallized in the frozen mist. His robes whipped in the wind, revealing the denim and leather armor of our ancestors. Bloodmace and I were huddled on one of the benches directly behind the captain. Behind us, Lars' phantom oarsmen rowed. The rough barbarian turned to us and spoke, "Do not look too closely into the lake, for it is not simply water, but a living being that hungers for souls. Without your skins, anything could happen." Indeed, it was strange not being in my body. Bloodmace and I had to discard our physical forms back in northern Samur, when Mistress Crowbastard transported us here. It certainly didn't feel like we had no bodies, we didn't look any 

different to one another, but I felt it as a dreamy weightlessness. Magic is much stronger here than in the temporal world, as we discovered in our last battle. Lars turns to us and speaks again, "We reach Va in one of our days. We will have to camp on one of the islands." He produces a tauriat from inside his robe. "This works just like the ones back on Centon, we will look for an island that has not been enchanted by Headron. Be ready for danger, I know this lake well, it spit my people onto that spectral shore when the Wyvern elders banished us at the beginning of their epoch." With darkness closing around us, Lars the Berserker removes one of the buttons on the pocket flap of his denim and tosses it into the air. Slowly a light dawns over us, illuminating the area around us with a yellowish glow as we plunge into the darkness like a steel blade through scented flesh.

 I fucking hate Def Leppard's Hysteria. What a soulless blot on the scrotum of the metal, every tone underlining it's pure sonic maggotry. But, I will not turn this review into a review of that album and I will not judge it by the evil perpetrated by that cum stain upon music. Def Leppard's first album, On Through The Night, is an enjoyably light and breezy slab of NWOBHM goodness. This is just a loud and catchy hard rock album, nothing more and nothing less. Wine, women, song, good times, the folly of youth, and rock n roll dreams. My pretentious ass, so rooted in the dark and experimental, tried but simply could not hate this album. I found myself, fueled by alcohol, bellowing along to 'Hello America' quite enthusiastically. That's what it's all about. It's not a screaming iron fest, just fun. Three albums later(Hi & Dry and Pyromania are classics), they became complete shit for the rest of their career.


 Adventure in Samur Part 6.2 - Master of the Stones

For what seemed like an eternity, we headed towards a mammoth shape on the horizon. When we finally slid onto the rocky beach, the light that was surrounding us went out and we used our Dio patches to light our way up the rocky incline leading to a cave at the base of the cliff. As we approached the yawning egress, Lars held up his hand for us to stop and held his hand to his ear. I could just barely make out a sound. We crept slowly into the the cave. Ahead there was a light and I could now make out the unholy melody of Witch's Sabbath. Just as we passed into the cavern, there was a footfall behind us. At once the three of us whirled to see the great crow, wings outstretched, 

beak slashing towards our party. Out of the corner of my eye, I see a bolt of energy burst from Bloodmace's denim as he and Lars tumble to the rocky ground. Laughter echoes around us and the bird disappears. Dusting myself off, I reach for my jacket to light the room again, but a fire flares up nearby I can just make out a familiar figure. Lars and Bloodmace spring up, ready for action. Mistress Crowbastard is still chuckling as we approach her near the fire. She motions to us to follow down further into the passage. We venture further, reaching the source of the music and light we saw earlier. We have arrived in a small room with a makeshift altar of bones and silver. A fire blazes in a small hearth to one side, on the other there are several greenish stones emitting a dim glow. Emperor plays in the background as she speaks, "Sorry if my little joke startled you. I have finished my other business and I know you will need some help when you get to Va, so I though I would just meet you here. Lars, you already know what to do with the shapti stones," she turns and addresses us, "you two, you will not be able to sleep without your bodies, but these stones will renew your power." Lars puts his hands upon the weird stone and it begins to glow brighter and slowly his body disappears. "Go into the stone," she says, "You will need all the power you can muster for tomorrow." When I put my hands on the smooth surface, a warm feeling rushes over me as I flow into the cosmos.

Samson, if you didn't know, was the band Bruce Dickinson was in before Iron Maiden, when he had the daft moniker, Bruce Bruce. They had a goofy drummer who wore a bondage mask and played in a cage. Their image was playfully glam in an era of denim and leather, which may be the reason the never really took off, relegated to the second tier of otherwise fine NWOBHM bands. Their 1980 album, Head On (their first with Dickinson), is blues rockin' thing, kind of like Fog Hat with an opera singer. Songs like Vice Versa hint at ol' Bruce's future with Maiden. This album is a nice warm up to their classic Shock Tactics album. Worth a few listens.

 Words of the Elders

What fire burns inside the seeker? What quest drives one further on after the dark has come and the cold chills their bones? No one can know that fire that singes the minds of the wan and feeble beings of the physical world, so fragile and yet so tenacious in their determination to master what they cannot even begin to understand. Wolf I call to you, spirit of the lightning in the sky, hear me! Waves splash on both sides of the lake's surface, and even the sleek longboat cannot hide long from the deep, watery being that holds these specks of land in its bosom...

Until next week, titans of stone and steel, 

Horns

Weavers of the Web - Trad Metal Conquest in the Tomb of Bloodhammer

It was a random kind of night. A night of extremes. A night of violence. A night of the burning of stave churches. A night of mead. A night of excess. A night of  wanton lust. A night of steaming buns and rice noodles. It was a Metal Night.

We heard a bunch of albums, but I can't remember most of them. The ones that stick out were from the late period of the New Wave of British Heavy Metal, like Manilla Road's Crystal Logic. Ok, these dudes are not British, they are from fucking Kansas, but we have a fucking theme to do, now don't we? There sound and soul definitely belongs to the NWOBHM. Manilla Road were one of the most criminally ignored bands in history. Highly regarded by true believers and in Europe, they never made much of a splash in the States. This was mostly due to the vocalist, whose clipped, nasally caterwaul is definitely an acquired taste. But after you get past the voice, what you have is a fine collection of tunes and tasty riffs. Lyrically, swords and sorcery abounds, complimenting the epic song structures, which tend to be expansive, though not busily so, like Maiden. This is a band that exists on its own plain of existence, taking their own sweet time to build a singular atmosphere. Not really anyone else like them, though they have influenced many power metal band.

Saga of the Gatemaster part 15.1-Darkness Descends

When the sound first filled the grey sky above the peak of Mount Tarvo, all ten of us knew what was happening. The fine, cold snow whipped around us like an icy mist, obscuring all detail of our surroundings. The noise grew louder, its funeral pulse coming into focus as a titanic shadow moved behind the icy clouds. I looked at Bloodmace and exclaimed, “It’s…” but my brother knew already and finished my sentence for me, “Black Sabbath!”  Indeed, as the air cleared enough to make out the hulking shape it was revealed to be our father, Bloodhammer, cloaked in vestments of denim and leather. Behind him were his royal guards, twisted demons from the very bowels of the Earthen hell. His musicians continued to play as he approached our party and held up his hand in a massive fist. 

For a moment there was complete science. None dared speak a word as we stared up at the silver-bearded master who stood almost twice as tall as any of us. Looking down, he began to speak in a commanding baritone, “So my sons, you return from my homeland to this world you have endangered with your reckless pursuits of forbidden knowledge. “  Turning his gaze upon Moloch, he adds, “And you have killed one of my sentinels. Do you realize what kind of danger you have exposed the people of this world to? I should bind you to this post eternally and make you guard the dimensional gate.”  Bloodmace and I look to the ground in shame, but Vorthon speaks boldly before our father and his minions. “But you cannot…your world depends on Centon just as much as the others do. Let us pass so we may confront Lord Headron and defeat him once and for all!”  Bloodhammer’s voice booms out “Silence! I have not yet finished with you, fool.  Yes, you will fix the dimensional rupture in the time desert. Your impetuous ways have allowed Lord Headron to gain a foothold in the physical world and now Castle Thrashstone lies in ruins, Jenkabala has been turned into a shopping mall and your world is being converted into a resort for intergalactic religious pilgrims. You will be given a chance to set right your grave mistakes but first, I have something for you.” With a slight motion of his hand, our father sends Bloodmace and I tumbling into a vast pit. As the circle of light from above gets smaller and smaller, I hear Bloodhammer’s evil laugh echo down into the endless darkness.    

The biggest surprise of the night was Chateaux's Chained and Desperate. This album is basic, grimy, fast and loose metal, more akin to LA glam metal than Motorhead or Maiden, but with a much tougher guitar sound than most LA pretty boys were ever ALOUD (its a pun, you see). The riffs are tinged with excitement and rhythmic ummmpff, the songs anthemic and memorable, the rhythm section loud and proud. Steve Grimmet of Grim Reaper fame caterwauls all metal god-like, his gothic overtones kicking much ass. This is simply a great heavy metal album, a great example of the second tier NWOBHM bands that Neat Records never signed.

Saga of the Gatemaster part 15.2 – Out of the Cellar

At first there was just a warm glow from somewhere just out of my sight. I was disoriented and the prickling of my skin told me I had been rematerialized, but where was I? As the ambient light engulfed my vision and the golden furnishings became distinct, I remembered. Our father, a pit, laughter. Bloodmace was seated on the bench opposite me and for a moment our youth returned. This was the tomb of Bloodhammer, our father who had designed the Time Desert at the dawning of the multiverse, untold ages before our birth. Treasures of many worlds were piled against the golden walls whose surface related the thousand forbidden truths from which sprung the infinite spiritworld. Lost in our reverie, we didn’t hear the rustling of parchment in the corner, or catch sight of the horned rodent darting out of the gleaming tomb. Upon my shoulder I felt an icy grip and wheeled around, but there was nothing there. From the ground came our father’s voice, “Over here, my sons.” Standing before us was a large chrome rat with gnarled horns rising behind metallic ears. Its red eyes transfixed us with an evil witch-stare. “I have come to you that disaster may be avoided. Your exploits have caused considerable panic among the elder council. This world must not be destroyed, the multiverse would be thrown into chaos.” The fearsome looking rat that is our father pauses a moment to chew on its shining fur. “Demon Scourge, get those jackets hanging on the tomb” Quickly, I retrieve them from the lid of the jeweled sarcophagus. Bloodmace and I don the garments, leather jackets like the ones worn on Earth. Denim vestments, sewn everywhere with patches are slipped over the black coats. We turn to present ourselves to our father, but he has gone. As the tomb dissolves around us we hear a chant from beyond the days of memory. “…past the stars in fields ofancient void….”

Lastly, Jaguar's Power Games kicked our collective ass. Some have called this band Moterhead-lite, due to vocalist Paul Merrill's smooth AOR croon set to proto-speed metal tempos. This is no handicap though, as all these songs kick serious ass while providing a pleasing melodic sheen that the best classic metal bands possess. The rhythm section kicks some serious booty, as most of the song are set to an almost punk rock fast and loose speed without  ever coming across as sloppy. When they slow down, they display a melodic songwriting prowess that makes you wonder why this band never got bigger than they did. But they didn't, leaving metal geeks like myself to obsess and ponder.

And I do not remember who won the night. Everybody fucking wins the night. You, dear reader, win the night. Into the night! Into the night!

Words of the Elders

And so we have followed our heroes from the Time Desert where Thantor the Bard, stranded at Castle Thrashstone was compelled to transport Vorthon and Hell Wraith across the dimensional wasteland to the castle of Baron Lotar. We have been with them on their adventures across the swamps that lie between the Gol range and Mount Tarvo, where the unfortunate Thantor met his end at the hands of a tremendous warrior of earth and stone. Keep Trawston was the next stop on their journey where Lady Steel and Moloch the Artist joined them on their way to awaken Demon Scourge, Bloodmace, and the rest of the elders. Atop Mount Tarvo this mission was accomplished and now the quest to defeat the evil Lord Headron of Dantor has begun again. Watchers of the skies rise and be counted!  Sons and daughters of the north, take up thy hammer!  The mighty juggernaut is alive and no weapon or spell will stop it. Rulers of Jenkabala, beware, Bloodmace and Demon Scourge are back!

Until next week, headbangin’ hordes

Horns