IMPLEMENTS OF HELL

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In the Srimad-Bhagavatam the black goddess Kali is described as a “particularly dangerous form of the material energy” – an emphasis given by the most erudite scholars of this branch of the puranic literature which indicates, by its intensifier, an even more treacherous form of entity than that of Maya (most often depicted in the selfsame physical form as Durga, if not Durga herself).

While the individual living entities drift into and then amongst the myriad pathways of deception upon the “lap of the witch” who is Maya, the expansion in the form of the black goddess represents the material energy – chaotic at its very base construction – come now to full flower and accessible by those who revel in that which is ghastly.

Those who approach this dangerous form of the material energy in such a way that does not give due diligence to what she in truth desires of her associates will sink beneath the predatory, hallucinatory waves of her illusionary potency – becoming first adrift upon and then drowning in the impenetrable depths of the abyss she governs – replete with false leads, mirror-images and doctrines devised by her intelligence not to illuminate but rather to damn.

Those who will count themselves as her genuine fellow travelers – the asuras – eschew the flouncing, pseudo-intellectual and ultimately impotent levels of the mind that are so dear to but so very suicidal for her human admirers – current and erstwhile. Instead, the sage operator will approach her fortress as would a true worker of evil – a technician – acquiring, manipulating and forging in secret very real implements of hell.

Beneath the cold, calculating and steely gaze of eyes black within black – embedded within armor-like skin – grey, merciless and tactile – the entities of the celestial hellish planets – including a certain clandestine organizational patron – watch with pleasure and with dread. What shall you place beneath the clandestine organizational crest? What shall you develop under the choice, privileged surveillance which your handlers and those beyond afford? Dark blessings await those who avail themselves in kind.

SOURCE: Clanestine organizational altar courtesy SS44. Document as captioned delivered by clandestine organizational center, composed on date of record.

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ONCE THE MIND IS OPENED, SATAN IS SURE TO ENTER

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Organizations with a wide range of political and criminal agendas have historically relied on coercive interrogation and brainwashing of various types to force submission and information from enemies and victims, and to indoctrinate and increase cooperation in members and captors. In modern times, these techniques are used by political/military/espionage organizations, race/ethnic hate-groups, criminal groups (e.g., child pornographers and sex rings, and international traffickers of women, children, guns, and drugs) and exploitative and destructive cults with spiritual or other agendas. Methods of “thought reform” used by such groups include intimidation, social isolation, religious indoctrination, threats against victims or their loved ones, torture, torture of co-captives, and brainwashing through social influence or deprivation of basic needs, such as sleep or food (see Releasing the Bonds: Empowering People to Think for Themselves (2000), by Steven Hassan).

SOURCE:  Excerpted from Mind Control: Simple to Complex. Photograph of trauma-induced programming ordeal for DSG, courtesy AGENT VM32.

THE PSYCHOPATHIC GOD

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As the narcotics took hold within Astrid she found herself scanning the torture floor of the hall eagerly, foaming spittle dribbling from her mouth – so many hellish delights to which her still wayward daughters had been and would be subjected to. The freshest girls however, those most fearful – yet untouched – were the objects of her single-minded desire as she watched them being driven forth by the long whips of her already partially developed and highly sadistic entourage. Her eyes narrowed even more as her pupils dilated under the effects of the drugs – the well-worked muscles of her back and triceps suffuse with new life, new sustenance, by dint of the speed and the human protein recently consumed. Which of these fresh daughters would be first subjected to her wrath, her programming, her desire? Despite Astrid’s intention to remain some semblance of composure she found herself laughing, maniacally so, and though her body shacked with mirth within her robes all that escaped her mouth was a raspy hiss – subdued in volume but still enough to attract the attention of both penitents and administrative young sisters-to-be who acted as the facilitators and sometimes as the very extension of her own punitive will – for the latter knew that their disciplinary ministrations reflected that of their command and if their own executionary discipline was not up to par it was Astrid herself whom they would have to answer to.

None of the apparatus which spread across the hall was arbitrary in nature – each device, each implement, each environment in miniature being decided upon well in advance; thoughtfully, meticulously, by senior sisters within the cult recruiters and with the expert input of both special intelligence, internal security and the width and breadth of the most secure sectors of the organization. These were the mechanisms built to develop and instill applied terror – for those who so graduating under pressed and punished flesh would be those instilling and applying even greater terror – organized and fearfully despotic – upon similiarly fresh flesh in the outer areas – the regions towards which the sharp-fingered hand the commandant grasped toward, ever closer, in a psychotic will to dominate, possess, transfigure. And – when such transfiguration had come to full flower – what horror then would sprout violently from the shattered, poisoned earth? Astrid laughed in horrific future speculation – this time audibly causing her minions and still green trainees, both equally captive, to shudder.

Time passed forward into time in fluid measure under the effects of the drugs and before Astrid herself knew the moment for further punishment had arrived, the commencement of yet another correctional cycle – each future sister to be receiving and future sister minders to be administrating situated at their respective stations one and all, prepared and at the ready for the sound of the large brass gong and – upon thrice sounded – brutal and harsh discipline to commence. From the area nearest to the entrance to the cells across the hall two small acolytes, extremely young and as such exceedingly short in stature, features hidden completely beneath black robes and hoods, the length of their robes reaching down to the ground itself, giving the impression that they were gliding across the floor, positioned themselves before the golden circular instrument – kneeling down and then extending themselves again with stout wooden staves in hand – the ends bound with a sphere of leather made from taut human skin.

Astrid sat rigid as she awaited her signal – fists bounded together so tight that blood dripped from the small fissures within balled hands – then releasing to shove the last few gelatinous crumbs of narcotic speed-laced corpse product between trembling red lips. The chapel hall stretched before her now even more vast in apprehension, each acolyte to be tortured again and each one virginal to such pain awaiting the very new and unique horrific minstrations of her and her minions, all naked and shaking in fear, each a pulsating human link in a chain of terror that would extend in time to the very fructification of her soon coming destiny, deadly and clandestine.

Once the sound of the gong… then twice… then thrice. Even as the last reverberation of the instrument began to fade through the dread hall it was replaced with another sound altogether – the sounds of dozens upon dozens of screams intermingling one unto the other, the sounds of leather straps, canes of diverse design, wooden paddles along with satanic whips of myriad fashion and flesh itself as the instrument of torment punishing naked flesh. Tandem to this the sudden sound of devilish machinery starting in sputters, generators igniting, the primitive cranks of mechanical devices of torture – then the wailing beginning as these instruments so designed went about their horrible tasks.

Astrid sprang from her seat, her mouth curled into a horrific smile and screamed – her own sound of predatory rapture enhanced by the dint of the trauma-induced brainwashing and sundry training she had undergone for countless years in the dungeons of the commandant creating a deep, trilling and visceral sound that penetrated even the din of the mass torture now taking place. Her shrieking heard and duly apprehended by the organizational personnel her junior, the mass torture did not pause in the timber of its discipline but rather increased.

SOURCE: Excerpted from BLUEBIRD – the second installment of the post-apocalyptic trilogy authored by the Tempel ov Blood that began with IRON GATES.

A thirteen year-old girl in a futuristic setting after a year of rigorous cult programming and systematic abuse at the hands of a brutal paramilitary organization finds herself installed as a deity representing the embodiment of chemical and radiological warfare in a disease-ridden DMZ-type border area between the paramilitary organization with whom she enlisted and the gateway to areas of unknown nuclear-war devastated territories from which she came.

BLUEBIRD – forthcoming from Martinet Press in 2016.

HUMANOIDS

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“Similar methods of programming, sometimes combined with witchcraft spiritual abuse, are used to mentally install “humanoids”, e.g., robots, shells, etc., that contain no part of the person’s true humanity, i.e., no personality fragment. These humanoids carry out specific functions within the mind, or in external actions.

Programming overides the victim’s free will. Programmed individuals (usually specific personalities) follow commands and perform actions that are in clear violation of their free will, moral principles, and spiritual convictions, generally without conscious awareness.”

SOURCE: Excerpted from Mind Control: Simple to Complex. Graphic by Commissar GE75, 2016 ERA HORRIFICUS.

GO INSIDE THE GRID

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In highly sophisticated mind control, the individual is programmed to perceive inanimate structures in the unconscious inner landscape. “Structures” are mental representations of objects, e.g., buildings, grids, devices of torture, and other containers, that “hold” programmed commands, messages, information, and personalities. In many cases, walls are also installed that serve as barriers to hide deeper levels of programming and structures. Unconscious personalities perceive themselves as trapped within, or attached to, these structures, both visually (in internal imagery), and somatically (in experiences of pain, suffocation, electroshock, etc.).

Structures are installed in early childhood, generally between 2 and 5 years of age. Torture and drugs are applied beyond the endurance of all of the already-formed personalities, which usually requires that the child be taken near death. The intent is to bury all memory for the event deeply in the unconscious mind, below the level of consciousness of all personalities. When all conscious processing of information is blocked, the child cannot mentally resist any of the programmer’s input, cannot reject it as “not me” or as untrue. Instead, the input is “taken in whole”, into the unconscious mind, with no conscious memory, and therefore no ability to process or reject it later.

The child may be tortured on a device, and the personalities formed in this process then perceive themselves trapped on these devices. Or an image of an object may be projected on the child’s body or on a screen, or in virtual reality goggle, or a physical model of the object is shown.

The programmer then tells the child that this device or object is now within him or her. Because the mind of the small child does not easily discriminate reality and fantasy (this process relies on the pre-school child’s use of magical thinking), the child now perceives the object as a structure within. Then, a code is installed, for the programmer to gain future access to the structure to erase or give new information.

Immediately after the structure is installed, the programmer will generally command traumatized personalities go to places in the structures, e.g., “Go inside the grid”; The programmer will generally also install the perception of wires, bombs, and re-set buttons, to prevent removal of the structure. The child is usually shown something to make the him or her perceive these as real, e.g., a button on the belly-button.

Installed program “triggers”, “cues”, and “access codes” allow the programmer easy access to programmed personalities and program structures to install or change commands, messages, and information, and to retrieve information, all out of victims’ conscious awareness.

Personalities trapped in (or on) structures obey program directives until freed from the structures. Programmed functions are usually performed unconsciously, or with a some awareness of a compulsion to do, or not do, something. E.g., personalities are often programmed to awaken in the every morning hours to make a telephone call (use of toll-free numbers results in no record of calls) to obtain or provide information to abuser groups. Programmed “reporter” personalities report whether therapy is approaching the hidden programming. The host usually has no knowledge of making these calls, or may occasionally find him/herself holding a telephone in the middle of the night, not knowing why.

SOURCE: Excerpted from Mind Control: Simple to Complex. Graphic by Commissar GE75, 2008 ERA HORRIFICUS. All sigils drawn in human blood.

DRILL

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“It’s all thanks to their imaginary friend known as Drill, who plants horrific ideas into their innocent and trusting heads. But who is this Drill and what exactly are his ulterior motives? I fear we’ll have to wait a while until this imaginary (and possibly extraterrestrial) foe gives us any real answers.”

SOURCE: Graphic imagery of altar arrangement and depicted portrait of Drill Sergeant Grey courtesy Commissar GE75.

DO NOT BE HUMAN, BE A NOCTULIAN!

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“He carries a wooden punishment paddle that has been drilled with holes, many, many holes. The holes are to lessen wind resistance when he beats you and he will beat you – he will beat you like a bad little girl or a bad little boy but he will not beat you because you have been bad, he will beat you because you have not been bad enough.

When he bends you over and paddles your bottom it is a loving discipline because he is saying to you: do not be human, be a Noctulian! Although the way he phrases it may sound more like ”TOUGHEN UP YOU WIMP!” or it may even sound like the churning and grating of hideous machinery in a terrible, dark and grim factory somewhere in the astral wastelands.

Did I mention he also carries a cat o’ nine tails made of a hideous leather-like substance which is interspersed with spikes? You are truly a fortunate soul if Drill Sgt. 333 decides to go after you with that particularly unholy implement.”

SOURCE:  Excerpted from Drill Sgt. Grey: A Disturbing Analysis Liber 333, CreateSpace Independent Publishing Platform, 2014 (ISBN-13: 978-1492282204, ISBN-10: 1492282200) Article originally appeared in inaugural issue of False Prophet, privately issued from the Hinterlands and reprinted by Black Light Distribution.

Graphic from a recent late summer self-criticism session, courtesy of clandestine organizational personnel and photographed at an undisclosed location in the United States of America.

WORLD OPFER – A GUIDE FOR INITIATES

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INITIATORY CRISIS:

Genuine initiatory crises are absolutely necessary for the creation of the Noctulian and the entrance into the undead state. The silence of dwelling in the eye of the storm, a symbolic representation of the undead state that is Noctulian existence, can only be attained by traversing the path of harsh, brutal ordeals that are the hallmark of our alchemical change process. Like when approaching the eye of a hurricane, the winds of ordeal and forced transfiguration will become harsher and more intense as one approaches the eye. It is only through real, genuine initiatory crises that one can reach the Noctulian state. The initiatory crises that are prerequisite must include real tragedy, real horror and real testing. This is not simply promethean overcoming, as the Noctulian is not simply an aphorism for the Satanic Adept.

The current of the Tempel ov Blood is very specific and involves treading a sideward path towards a paradigm of existence that is alien and inimical to the cosmic life force.

Transformation necessarily must be perverse and filled with elements of Terror due to the fact that the entity that emerges after breakthrough is an abomination in quintessence, rather than being the ‘next rung on the evolutionary ladder’ per se. Specific methods of self-engineering must be employed to produce specific entities.

For many, the harshness and the absurd nature of pursuing the alchemical change process according to the Noctulian standards will be too much to bear. There are many groups and systems available for those who wish to follow a more humane approach and we do not dissuade those who are better suited for an alternative method to go their own way. However, if one wishes to aspire towards the Noctulian state, if one wishes to enter into the TOB Blood Pool, then discipline and fanatical commitment to our way must be adhered to. If you fail, you will face the inevitable torture that comes with associating with the blood currents of the TOB and embracing the Abyss – if you succeed you will also face the inevitable torture that comes with associating with the blood currents of the TOB and embracing the Abyss. One may decide to no longer embrace the denizens of the Abyss, however, the denizens of the Abyss, once contacted, will persistently be interested in embracing you.

A bleak path lies before you, strewn with the blood of those that have gone before. Advancement in the path involves an increase, not a decrease in the awareness of Darkness.

BLOOD FEEDING:

All aspiring Noctulians must feed. Upon what do you feed? The blood essence of humans. One may consume the blood essence of the human herd via direct draining procedures while disembodied in the astral state. One may also consume the blood essence of a human via sympathetic contact, sight and touch. What is the grim secret to this Wamphyric Art that is often denied by other vampiric orders? It is the fact that engineering pain – physical and physical – real evil deeds done towards a specific target in the flesh to put it plainly, is very useful in releasing the flow from your human victim. Coercing your victims into states of psychological stress – or even psychological terror – psychical pain – or even physical pain – will work wonders in allowing you to feed heavily upon them. This blood essence – once consumed – will attract the denizens of the Abyss and they – via inducing insanity in the initiate and allowing the initiate to peer through the horrid vortices of the void and backwards darkness – will aid in your transformation. Employing black arts methods for harm should be used in tangent with blood feeding – this means employing curses as well as more practical methods. A TOB initiate is encouraged – and expected – to curse and feed indiscriminately.

THE BLOOD POOL:

When one enters into the Tempel ov Blood one becomes part of the TOB Blood Pool. What does this mean? It means that the blood that you drain from humans is in like manner drained from you – by the Inner Family of Noctulians higher in the hierarchy. The pinnacle of this feeding process is the Blood Father of the Inner Family. The Blood Father is a vortex that twists and distorts the blood currents and then channels this downward towards the larger TOB Blood Family. His black hand is upon you and his touch drains you of the blood essence that you have culled from humans. He is a vortex that twists and distorts the blood currents. His mercy is the blood currents that have been twisted and distorted which he sends down as a rain of astral energy only to those of the TOB – those of the Family. This blood essence, rather than simply being vitalizing (as is the blood essence that you, the initiate, cull from the human herd), is possessed of properties that coerce transformation and transfiguration according to Noctulian principles. The rain of mercy from our Blood Father aids in the creation of the Noctulian – in tangent with practical acts of evil done in the world – and the pains and rigors of ordeal and initiatory crises. This is one of the essential secrets of the alchemical change process revealed.

SOURCE: World Opfer – A Guide for Initiates first appeared first appeared in False Prophet: Internal Journal of the TOB Issue Number 1 (privately issued) and reprinted in Liber 333, CreateSpace Independent Publishing Platform, 2014 (ISBN-13: 978-1492282204, ISBN-10: 1492282200)

DRILL SGT. GREY – A DISTURBING ANALYSIS

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A NOCTULIAN craves DISCIPLINE.

DRILL SGT. 333 is the LEADER of the VVM (Velton Vindex Movement.) He is a grim, grey alien with large, almond-shaped eyes and a small, skeletal figure (which is in contrast to his over-sized head.) He wears a Drill Sgt. Uniform (including a large, harsh brimmed hat with the numerical code ‘333’ emblazoned on the front, military pants tucked into combat boots and a military battle-ready logistical jacket emblazoned with the numeric ‘333’ and on which is pinned an insignia of the Nine Angles, a patch bearing the sigil of the TOB and upon the collar-tab epaulets is the numbers ‘333’ – the latter which appears on both of his thin, starved shoulders.) He wears a black armband with large white letters sewn onto the clothe bearing the initials ‘VVM’. His mouth is only a slit which never smiles. From his mouth emanates only hate because he hates you, he wants to discipline you, he wants to punish you, he wants to push you over the brink so that you fall – like chaff – into the blaze of the abyss, the blaze of subversion, the blaze of the clandestine, the blaze of torture, the blaze of discipline.

He carries a wooden punishment paddle that has been drilled with holes, many, many holes. The holes are to lessen wind resistance when he beats you and he will beat you – he will beat you like a bad little girl or a bad little boy but he will not beat you because you have been bad, he will beat you because you have not been bad enough. When he bends you over and paddles your bottom it is a loving discipline because he is saying to you: do not be human, be a Noctulian! Although the way he phrases it may sound more like ”TOUGHEN UP YOU WIMP!” or it may even sound like the churning and grating of hideous machinery in a terrible, dark and grim factory somewhere in the astral wastelands. Did I mention he also carries a cat o’ nine tails made of a hideous leather-like substance which is interspersed with spikes? You are truly a fortunate soul if Drill Sgt. 333 decides to go after you with that particularly unholy implement.

The name tag on his battle-ready logistical jacket reads ”GREY” – just in case you do not recognize him when you see him… But if you do see him you will surely recognize him, because only the most fortunate boys and girls receive the very specific sort of balloons and surprises that Drill Sgt. Grey has to offer.

Every foul verbal abuse that issues forth from his mouth which swirls and rotates with the horrors of Nythra will make you more motivated. Each beating he gives you will bring you closer and closer to the Abyss and insanity (like a trout swimming upstream, the Abyss will make you immolate yourself in the hideous and caustic ordeal of shedding the causal.) The more miles you run and the more push-ups you do chanting ‘333’ will help you transform from your current state into a bloated frog: bloated on the blood current of the Velton Vindex Movement and basking under the radioactive glow of atomic mushroom clouds who look down upon you with leering, spiral eyes.

VIDE ALIENUM SUPER COLLEM – CLAUDEM, ONUSTEM, ET NECARE PREPARATEM

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DRILL SGT. GREY – A DISTURBING ANALYSIS PT. 2: ENCOUNTERS 

“Dying moonlight framed upon dark walls Throughout this black home the silence is deafening None can hear what echoes from within But I can hear the endless screaming Behind the locked door.”

“DON’T YOU LIKE IT?”

The message came to her non-verbally via the auspices of conventional hearing, instead, entering her mind through an intrusion into her very root consciousness itself – telepathic communication which first took the sounds, inaugurally, of screaming machinery being churned into itself, harshly, insanely, but which, through some esoteric fashion, transformed itself – within her mind – to words which she could somehow understand.

“NO DADDY! MAKE IT STOP!”

Huge, thick rivulets of deep crimson, blood, elixir, dripped down the pointed chin of the alien’s almond-shaped face – from a thin, slitted mouth, behind which only small, sharp and predatory fangs could be seen.

Eyes, black upon deepest black, unchanging, uncaring, unmerciful – and indeed, undead; gave no indicator, no solace, no indication of any emotion, of any mercy – of any empathy remotely related to the “understanding” which marks the exchange between human betwixt-human and, which in her case, had apparently become a standard now obsolete.

Atop his head was perched a curious item, a broad-brimmed felt hat, possessed of a high crown, pinched symmetrically at the four corners. On the center front of this hat was emblazoned the numerals three-three-three which appeared black, yet thick and pulsating, as if the numbers themselves had been imprinted onto the accouterment with blood, obtained via some foul, evil and torturous practice and – no doubt – culled from, perhaps, the most innocent of victims.

Seemingly pixelated images began to burst into her vision, her eyes rolling up into their sockets, images that seemed alien to her own earth planet, in quintessence, yet were possessed with strange shapes that seemed to resonate with her despite their bizarre nature – and – indeed – the trauma-laden nature of their delivery.

The alien rubbed a skeletal finger, dripping with the blood of the little girl’s parents, across it’s military BDU jacket, which hung relatively limp against it’s emaciated, undead frame. In his other hand he held a crystal tetrahedron, drenched in blood, which pulsated with pale, disturbing light.

Embroidered upon it’s right chest was the legend “GREY” – apparently, it’s surname. A strange geometric symbol, which the little girl would, later, learn to be the insignia of a group called the Order of Nine Angles – dedicated to opening up portals to other worlds and bring in Acausal, Dark Gods, through catastrophic acts of terror and profuse bloodshed, was pinned in medallion form upon it’s left.

The sound of several booming male voices, yet too deep in metre to be human at all, began to echoe out from the corners of the room, sounding a sinister chant unlike any that had been heard prior upon that earthly terra firma, each voice seeming to hold within it the inconceivable potency of every evil act, every horrific deed, every act of disruption, terror; cruelty and deceit; manipulation and inducement to insanity that she could imagine that they had done; that sinister chant could be felt upon their breath from afar, like a cold shade.

“AGIOS O BUDSTURGA!” screamed Drill Sargeant Grey.

Drill Sargeant Grey fingered the long disciplinary paddle attached to his utility belt, drilled with holes to reduce wind resistance and cause additional blistering and bruising, with no discernible emotion upon his face. Emotions has been killed, burned away – burned with the infernal fire of Satanic ordeal, Satanic trial and the uttermost limits of transgression of human laws in every moral sense.

“To those outside it is a simple construction of wood But those inside know what is truly in store… Behind the locked door.”