(Exterior: A bog, just in sight of the looming towers of Crondor Manor, somewhere deep in the thick forests of The Rio De La Plata. It is dusk, and the light is falling)
A pitiful hairy creature makes a sorrowful supplication to the heavens, crying from deep in the mud:
“In the mud, kneeling and flapping our desperate eyes up toward the flowing robes of thou! Superiors, I beg not for bread O’ Purification but, for wisdom to aid the organization of our oppressed peoples against the cloaked franchiser of suffering through the ages, ‘the Christ’, and his wretched effigy that’d burn holes in our minds. Knock thy arrow towards mine presented skull and let pour out what’d clog the vessel, so that I may be filled with your weaponized sermons against the flock, against Him…”
(A SHOCK OF BLURRING COLOR AND SMOKE FILLS THE AIR, AS OUR DARK LORD AND THE TWO DESCEND FROM SEEMINGLY OUT OF NOWHERE)
The creature is terrified even further but is reassured as the dark mass of evil that is Our Dark Lord Crondor Speaks to him calmly-
Our Dark Lord Crondor: It is I. Do not be afraid, you will not die now. We have heard your supplication and have granted thy request. It is with great pleasure that I present the Two to thee, Grizzly Butts. May your pitiful but insightful queries of them escape my wrath & judgment for illegitimate ideation and wrongful ethic, and pray that I let you live through this night. Your curious nose has lead you into dangerous catacombs of that which you know not.
(ODLC WHISKS HIMSELF AWAY IN A BLUE CLOUD OF UNKNOWING)
The Two (snapping to attention): Hail, Butts!!
The creature begins, haltingly…
GB: I beg thee answer, for what all worthy beings sour within: Is the human mind unchanging through the ages? Does the will of the Christian virus manifest as merely one of many symptoms of a deranged and inbred mammalian mental default? Do our ancestors terrorize us through our blood, our nature? Or is it cultural warfare and propaganda that generates our sickness?
Field Marshall William Purify: So many thoughts at once, Hair Creature. I will say this: All things work together for evil, and the augury portends doom everywhere, from North to the South, from East to West, from the Six Winds to the Seven Seas. As Chairman Mao said in the blinking past, “Everything under heaven is in utter chaos- the situation is excellent”. Our ancestors are us, and we are living their destiny in our bodies. Our fate is theirs as well.
Lord Donangato, Himself The Resurrected: In this respect, the will does not come into it, and cultural manifestations of any kind are suppressive synaptic reactions of the world “mind” to its monstrous creation of thought. Christ is a symptom of the disease inherent in consciousness: the brain knows it must die, but desperately wants to conjure immortality from the synthetic symbolism generated by thought. And make no mistake- thought is not an inbred mammalian characteristic. Thought’s existence is analogous with the development of what we call “consciousness” in the bicameral hive mind of the early organizations of human species. But on this we have already said enough, for now we will say no more.
(The creature stutters in wretched confusion but continues…)
GB: From ear to ear it was carved within me: I have been told from birth that I will forever be Christianized, that my mind’s sight is a lens innate that’d provide my understanding of the world yet, I will admit… Each day I wake with a compulsive belch, first, and then begin visualizing a great cross swinging down, as a freed pendulum would. O’ it sees to the beheading all of humanity. Would I only still thirst for religion and its symptomatic violence were I freed from it? Am I doomed to be this incurable beast?
FM. W. Purify: Fear not, thy will and thy mind are nothing if not merely antennae receiving instructions from the environ that you are a organic part of. You must do what you do- if you cannot renounce your religious madness, then your destiny lies within the structure of that madness. Your legacy is interred with the destruction of all the ages of man, the choices are yours alone and written in the rock of eternal returning. Those who lead the nations into war are the manifestations of your will, your violence, your hatred, your lust for glory and domination and wealth. If you banish this in yourself, it is banished in the world. If you cultivate this in yourself, you continue the arc of decline and eventual extinction of your species- a species of which We Two are Not.
GB: I dream of a burning world, lit by the clawed religious: If even feigned scholars of the Christian faith would estimate death’s toll in the name of God at roughly 25-30 million bodies, and exponential minds, do reparations become necessary? Or, is today the right age for thine counter-terrorism to enact? Is there an equal and opposite reaction possible?
Lord Donagato: As one who has seen death and returned, there is no cosmic justice to be enacted by some force of anti-extinction. All attempts to halt the self immolation of humanity by humanity are futile.
FM. W. Purify: Indeed, the knife is already in the hand and the noose is around the neck. All that’s left is for some bloated and benighted fool to come by and twist in the knife and kick the wobbling plastic chair out from under the feet of humanity. And there are those in seats of dominion who seem to be getting up their nerve to try.
GB: This year, this glorious 2019, we’d seen Notre Dame herself burn and collapse like a tired nag. Should I mourn the art lost, or rejoice in yearly celebration for the small victory of her deflating, unfunded bosom? Will the thought of Christ die on its own, or must we kill the thought on Christ? Is the war against the holy eternal?
(A FLASH OF ORANGE LIGHT, and A WAVE OF SOUND LIKE A DISTANT PEAL OF A DULL CHURCHBELL BEING RUNG FRANTICALLY)
The Two Snap To Attention with Fists out in front of their faces in salute.
(OUR DARK LORD CRONDOR APPEARS)
Speaks (Violently): IT IS NOT FOR YOU TO REASON WHY, GRIZZLY MAN. OUR WAR IS NOT OF THIS WORLD, BECAUSE WE ARE NOT WRESTLING WITH THE BLOOD AND FLESH BUT WITH THE PRINCIPALITIES, WITH THE AUTHORITIES, WITH THE WORLD-RULERS OF THE DARKNESS OF THIS AGE, AND WITH THE SPIRITUAL THINGS OF EVIL IN THIS HEAVENLY REALM.
EL SHADDAI HAS BEEN SUMMONED.
THERE IS NO RETURN.
(Exunt ODLC, in Haze of BLUE UNKNOWING)
The Two return to a normal relaxed state.
Grizzly cowers in a puddle of fear but begs to be allowed to ask another question. After a silence of some time, His wish is granted.
GB: Will we be freed of auld tyrannies? Will there be further manifesto from thy breasts, O’ Purification? Successor recordings? Vinyl captures of ‘Destruction of the Wicked’? Live sermons of mockery in the flesh? Is there a gathering or ritual planned?
FM. W. Purify- Of Auld Tyrannies, it seems you have not heard the words of Our Master. Tyranny will always be with you, poor sods that ye all be. As far as vinyl recordings of our First Missive: DESTRUCTION OF THE WICKED, being produced, it has yet to be finalized by The Dark One but we are willing to negotiate with any interested parties who can provide this arcane and frankly ludicrously expensive service. One brave Young Wizard of the South, one Greylord Of Dal-Lamnas, has done a deal with The Dark Cloud Of Azul, and for the price of his soul has released a beautiful cassette version of DOTW along with our signature logo patch. Catch it before it’s gone on his Ethernet-connected web module store.
Lord Donagato: All promo appearances are handled by the Dark Lord, who Manifests us where He Will. Those who follow us on their media network and handheld tracking devices will be appraised of any promotional situation in which us or our clones may appear. Of this you can be sure.
The Two begin to fade to a bluish-grey, appearing to dematerialize in front of the creature- who is not finished with them, and shouts loudly…
GB: Stay! The rain falls and the mud deepens but, I beg further inquest: Is the future mentality of mankind becoming hedonistic? Dionysian? Satanic? I feel these freedoms, these emotional profundities and the evident search to find ‘what you must do’ [What you are meant to do] and to do it, there lands Purification as a ritual performance, a stand inherent to being. Am I listening to pure opposition to religious zealotry? Or, is it all of society, all of humanity, that detests in thy reddening eyes?
FM. W. Purify: No need to shout, Hair Man. We detest no being more or less than any other being, as we are all beings of equal strategic importance to the organic whole which has no thoughts and cannot know itself as one. Therefore what exists has no relation to any moral hierarchy whatsoever, and nothing is known as “good” or “bad” in anywhere but the mind palace of a humanoid. But as soldiers of fortune whose livelihood depends on Our Dark Lord being able to live on and colonize water-world star systems, we detest and are sick of those who by their own diseased delusions perpetuate and assure the destruction of all beings on this planet. Religious fundamentalism, nationalism, anti-collectivism, mass idol-worship, and all forms of ideological madness can only be stopped by direct artistic and written statements of contempt and armed agitation and demonstration against those who carry on the worms of the conscious mind.
Lord Donangato: It’s about high time for a Satanic Panic. The minds are becoming open to this sort of reactionary violence. We shall wait, and see what unfolds.
GB: Within the mind of a murderer, a tyrannical general, an inbred and power-hungered king using a Bible as a scythe, is this narrative Purification simply a window to these criminals stratagem? Or, is there some smirking admiration of death? Of the power of thy enemy and their capacity for ruthlessness?
Lord Donangato: Having known many of these grandees of death in life- my lives; I should say, they are embodiments of the will to death inherent in humanity. We chose a few we thought might give a broad spectrum of criminality to feel one’s way to a more partisan view of reality. They are on one side: what side are you on? For us, our lyrical approach and thematic choices are a direct resistance to common metal approbations of highly glamorized portrayals of glory and death and battle. Our music is anti-religious holy war metal. It shall never change until Our Dark Master Takes the Thrones Of Dominion Over the All One…
FM. W. Purify: Oh hush now, let the creature speak! We need not tell them any more of The Last Command…
(Confused but undaunted, the hairy beast continues on…)
GB: You point to our aged Saint Vitus and the (retired) Reverend Bizarre in reference to fellowes who’d entertained similar subject matter and vision in our short doomed heavy metal history, and no doubt some of thier musical attributes rub onto your creations yet, I’d suspect some greater love of classic heavy metal even beyond doom metal exists in these rituals past and present. Prime example being “1455 (A Call to Christian Thanes of Noble Blood)” emitting some pristine Manilla Road affect, and the legs of NWOBHM-era doom such as Witchfinder General and Pagan Altar spraying their ecstasy within your melodic sense. Is this chosen vehicle of heavy metal a necessity, was there ever any other choice?
FM. W. Purify: With such a mission, which we must carry on the flame of anti-Christian metal passed down from such luminaries as ye have mentioned. In some ways we bear more in common with Bolt Thrower than we do Black Sabbath. We care not for any snow blindness, or any technical ecstasy. There is no choice: the music of your world has become monopolized by charlatans and fekirs, salesmen and media cranks looking to rip off the next wanna-be-lately for a few hundred quid. There is almost none left standing who are not motivated by greed in one way or another. Into this fray, with the mission on our backs, and with the Order of the Lord around our necks, we have been tasked to stand firm against the howling madness around us.
Lord Donagato (lighting a cigarette): Punk is too thin and compromised, excepting some more extreme hardcore punk music. Again, as Purify said, we have more respect for Age of Quarrel than for Family Values. The extreme pig-squeal or scream-o styles of metal do not offer a direct way to communicate a message that has a wider effect outside of the insular metal scenes. We have observed this closely when we arrived on your planet, and decided that speed heavy metal rock and roll was the only way to speak to the Strong Ones who we will call home to The Dark Allah’s Future Palaces…
FM. W. Purify (sharply): Hush, hush, hush!!
GB: With the chosen bass and drums as your primary thunder, with melodious voice as lightning for theme and impact is the downplay of the electric guitar meant as a defiance against norms? An inverting of altar-held ideals? Is the minimal and organically achieved sound of Purification intended to invoke ancient heavy metal?
FM. W. Purify: ‘Twas only a decision of rationality- to get the heaviest sound, use the heaviest instrument as the grounding of the house. The rest is the frame and dressing. We only wish to use instruments where they are needed, and embellish that which demands to embellished. The harmony of sound is delicate but when honed to a fine point: powerful as a Sherman Tank.
GB: For now I wither from this steaming puddle. With the fear of catching my death in the night, I beg once or twice more for the privilege of addendum, and perhaps follow up with reorganization, expansion, and some deeper theatre of the mind! Ave ad blaspheme…
(A SHOCK OF BLUE AND ORANGE…ETC ETC)
(ENTER THE DARK ONE)
(SALUTES, COWERING, ETC ETC)
Our Dark Lord Crondor: You are allowed to live this night. Your questions displease me slightly, but only on the account of your absolutely wretched matted hair. Take a shower or something, and get out of South America. We will contact you when we are ready to converse again.
(THE THREE WHISK AWAY AS IF AN OLD TV MONITOR WAS SNAPPED OFF, the CREATURE IS MOTIONLESS AND MUTE, SHIVERING IN THE DARKNESS)
Night has fallen. A languid breeze blows through the jungle, and the creature looks up once more at the ghoulish shapes of the black towers of Crondor Manor peaking above the tree line. A single light flickers in the tallest spire, and suddenly,
It goes out.
All is Dark, and the creature is alone.
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