WASPISH DESPOT

15622055_126876554472618_4606637938065098244_n

The commandant standing on the bed was of super-high rank, wearing a pointed black helmet of fine mesh and one bleak bar of horizontal goggle lens and erstwhile garbed in a shining black outfit of skintight design and unknown fabric origin. Her large breasts shone like bleak and deadly moons encased in the shining black fabric, one of her waspish and skeletal hands carefully holding a vial containing a green poison liquid, her other clasped triumphantly on the bar separating the bed from the cab of the military automotive.

Her waist bore a thick nylon utility belt with a harsh nursery strap hanging to one side along with implements such as night sticks, restraints and then, in the other, a bleak, long-nosed pistol in a stellar black holster. She was of the elite of the elite, a god in the flesh, the touted female known as the commandant – never seen but worshiped throughout organization-run territories as a black mistress of death, destruction and imploding schizophrenic blood lust – creeping like a mustard gas mist across the destroyed and devastated plains of a post-nuclear hell.

SOURCE: Excerpted from IRON GATES by Tempel ov Blood, published by Martinet Press 2014 (ISBN-10:  0692306587, ISBN-13: 978-0692306581) IRON GATES is a sci-fi horror / post-apocalyptic novel, detailing a bleak view of the spiritual horrors of the world-to-come. Set seventy years after a worldwide nuclear conflagration, IRON GATES allows the reader a sight into a nightmarish landscape populated by even more nightmarish characters in a hideous future which leaves little to the imagination. Brutal and unsparing, it is not suitable for readers under 18. Readers should be advised of extreme graphic content.

Advertisements

UNKNOWING HERALD OF A BLOODY DAWN

13702489_1223164024369609_503325976_o

One of the thin, wasp-like arms of the commandant reached down to finger the leather nursery strap that hung upon the black webbed utility belt that encircled her waist. Bluebird’s eyes widened for she began to see that many more instruments of torture and pain hung from the commandant’s belt and she knew in a moment of revelation that as she herself possessed an instrument in the likeness of the commandant’s own punishment strap and the administration and authority that such designated she soon would possess those other devices and mechanism of pain and verily be privy to all that they represented. As the commandant fingered the strap, her other hand raised and a long finger extended pointing into the distance – pointing beyond the image, beyond the regional headquarters – into the area of the unconquered region into which Bluebird, Britta and a wide cross-section of the organization’s military force would be penetrating now only a few hours hence.

A small filament of smoke began to inexplicably emanate from the extended finger of the commandant and then becoming a small cloud, iron grey and sootish black, which hung in the air. Within it could be seen the crackling of lightning and the sounds of millions of mechanical devices smashing and grinding into one another could be heard emanating from within. As the sound began its harsh rapport hot wet tears began to flow down Bluebird’s freckled cheeks, for she knew that this sound was the voice of the commandant herself.

The grey black clouds began to part slightly then and the light within them grew more pronounced – where the rent was made visions began to appear, cascading one upon the other in breakneck speed, yet Bluebird retained each one in its entirety – every aspect and import that was meant to be relayed by the commandant comprehended. In her visions blood spilled in waves upon waves, pools of blood in which the enemies of the organization drowned in abject despair. She saw her own martial forces, her units that marched beneath a pale blue flag bearing the black outline of a human figure from which expanded a starburst extending outward from an area between the heart and throat. She saw herself, radiant upon the back of an organizational tactical vehicle, standing aloft as winds carrying upon them spectral wraiths composed of yellow poisonous gas and before her alien figures, identities entirely obscured inside hazardous material suits, spreading out over a ruined landscape filled with screams, sobs and faces that had begun to melt into themselves.

Both of the girls visions slowly faded to black and fitful sleep came upon them. As the embers of the fire beneath the propaganda image of the commandant began to burn low the cult recruiters softly quietly moved about these two platinum graduates of the commandant’s training center. The needles and wires were removed from their wrists, restraints undone and their naked bodies gingerly lifted up withdrawing them from the metal inserts which had penetrated them. Small beds had been prepared, beneath the ever-watchful image of the commandant, and the two naked figures were wrapped in rough-hewn blankets and allowed to rest if only for a few hours. Outside of the bay doors of the loading area a reddish orange sun began to rise from behind the heavily wooded hills of the border region and somewhere in the rebel territories a cockerel began to crow, the unknowing herald of a bloody dawn.

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.

 

THE PSYCHOPATHIC GOD

13633244_1220339114652100_189389813_o

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.

ABSOLUTE TERROR

image(3)(2)

The commander stressed the importance of extremely harsh discipline within the organization, with an internal apparatus of repression to match his unmatched megalomania, rising paranoia and fanatic need for cultivating an atmosphere of absolute terror within and without. Punishment of the corporal nature from levels going from conservative to obscene was normative rather than being the exception to the rule. If terror reigned supreme within the organization itself, the commander reasoned, then those so exposed would be perfected as instruments to spread terror outside of the territories currently acting as organizational strongholds. The administrative buildings housing the internal security personnel at HQ were split seventy-five twenty-five between offices (some inside former cells) responsible for amassing reports, organizing surveillance material, the drafting of indictments and enhancing internal disciplinary policy and punitive units, which busied themselves exclusively with interrogation, torture and incarceration.

SOURCE: Excerpted from IRON GATES by Tempel ov Blood, published by Martinet Press 2014 (ISBN-10:  0692306587, ISBN-13: 978-0692306581) IRON GATES is a sci-fi horror / post-apocalyptic novel, detailing a bleak view of the spiritual horrors of the world-to-come. Set seventy years after a worldwide nuclear conflagration, IRON GATES allows the reader a sight into a nightmarish landscape populated by even more nightmarish characters in a hideous future which leaves little to the imagination. Brutal and unsparing, it is not suitable for readers under 18. Readers should be advised of extreme graphic content.

Photograph courtesy of clandestine organizational personnel in the concourse of a trauma-based programming session held at an undisclosed location in North America.

OPERATION CHAOS

image(3)

“The lieutenant walked up to the other guard who had for the extent of the scene thus far simply been standing a few yards away in the courtyard, holding his vicious and expertly oiled martinet, various straps coiling around each other with the ends tied like a knout, ready to pound in the finer points of discipline even into the most recalcitrant of errant personnel.

‘Bring that little slut to heel, gentleman!’ the lieutenant roared.”

SOURCE: Excerpted from IRON GATES by Tempel ov Blood, published by Martinet Press 2014 (ISBN-10:  0692306587, ISBN-13: 978-0692306581) IRON GATES is a sci-fi horror / post-apocalyptic novel, detailing a bleak view of the spiritual horrors of the world-to-come. Set seventy years after a worldwide nuclear conflagration, IRON GATES allows the reader a sight into a nightmarish landscape populated by even more nightmarish characters in a hideous future which leaves little to the imagination. Brutal and unsparing, it is not suitable for readers under 18. Readers should be advised of extreme graphic content.

Source photograph courtesy of clandestine organizational personnel. The center raises horrible fists in salute to those so concerned – in premeditation of ever-horrific vistas to come. AGIOS O CHAOS.

 

SATAN SPEED

“Trauma-based mind control programming can be defined as systematic torture that blocks the victim’s capacity for conscious processing (through pain, terror, drugs, illusion, sensory deprivation, sensory over-stimulation, oxygen deprivation, cold, heat, spinning, brain stimulation, and often, near-death), and then employs suggestion and/or classical and operant conditioning (consistent with well-established behavioral modification principles) to implant thoughts, directives, and perceptions in the unconscious mind, often in newly-formed trauma-induced dissociated identities, that force the victim to do, feel, think, or perceive things for the purposes of the programmer. The objective is for the victim to follow directives with no conscious awareness, including execution of acts in clear violation of the victim’s moral principles, spiritual convictions, and volition.” – Ellen P. Lacter, Ph.D., Mind Control: Simple to Complex

SOURCE: BEAST BARRACKS Channel

COMMANDANT

commandant_beast_barracks

The commandant standing on the bed was of super-high rank, wearing a pointed black helmet of fine mesh and one bleak bar of horizontal goggle lens and erstwhile garbed in a shining black outfit of skintight design and unknown fabric origin. Her large breasts shone like bleak and deadly moons encased in the shining black fabric, one of her waspish and skeletal hands carefully holding a vial containing a green poison liquid, her other clasped triumphantly on the bar separating the bed from the cab of the military automotive.

Her waist bore a thick nylon utility belt with a harsh nursery strap hanging to one side along with implements such as night sticks, restraints and then, in the other, a bleak, long-nosed pistol in a stellar black holster. She was of the elite of the elite, a god in the flesh, the touted female known as the commandant – never seen but worshiped throughout organization-run territories as a black mistress of death, destruction and imploding schizophrenic blood lust – creeping like a mustard gas mist across the destroyed and devastated plains of a post-nuclear hell.

SOURCE: Excerpted from IRON GATES by Tempel ov Blood, published by Martinet Press 2014 (ISBN-10:  0692306587, ISBN-13: 978-0692306581) IRON GATES is a sci-fi horror / post-apocalyptic novel, detailing a bleak view of the spiritual horrors of the world-to-come. Set seventy years after a worldwide nuclear conflagration, IRON GATES allows the reader a sight into a nightmarish landscape populated by even more nightmarish characters in a hideous future which leaves little to the imagination. Brutal and unsparing, it is not suitable for readers under 18. Readers should be advised of extreme graphic content.

Graphic collage Commandant commissioned by the TOB and rendered by the artist and Satanist Erica Frevel. Original of this collage will be available for purchase directly from the artist in future and the image itself to feature in future published material set in the world of IRON GATES and published via the auspices of Martinet Press. More Art of Erica Frevel can be accessed at The Art of Erica Frevel as well as on Cargo Collective and Instagram.

 

THE CULT AT THE END OF THE WORLD

“He would do his part, his subordinates would do their parts and together, with the influx of all manner of organizational forces converging on the border region, they would coalesce into a whirlwind of indescribable nightmare and make history. Not the stale history of days gone by, but that new history, that history without moral qualm or reservation, that new and devastating history wrought on the radiation-soaked graveyard of the old civilization which had held it back from the nightmarish crescendos of which the organization availed itself as the ultimate composer in current and future climes effectively obliterated.” – Iron Gates

SOURCE: Excerpted from IRON GATES by Tempel ov Blood, published by Martinet Press 2014 (ISBN-10:  0692306587, ISBN-13: 978-0692306581) IRON GATES is a sci-fi horror / post-apocalyptic novel, detailing a bleak view of the spiritual horrors of the world-to-come. Set seventy years after a worldwide nuclear conflagration, IRON GATES allows the reader a sight into a nightmarish landscape populated by even more nightmarish characters in a hideous future which leaves little to the imagination. Brutal and unsparing, it is not suitable for readers under 18. Readers should be advised of extreme graphic content.

BLOOD BEAST

blood_beast

“The insignia of the organization featured a profile image of the commander, dressed in a peculiar black mask embedded with his personal crest, worn only by himself and his own elite guard unit, minutely painted upon the area centering around his third eye. Bandoliers of high gauge bullets crossed his chest, medals covered his width and knives and firearms burst from various military belts attached to his arms, belt and legs, holding sheathes and various holsters custom-made for the armed-to-the-teeth dictator of the organization and supreme authority over all the human inhabitants in areas his forces controlled. His blistering eyes, blank yet enraged simultaneously, stared forth into an even more nightmarish future than anyone could possibly dream. A motif of an enormous bat rose up from behind the leader’s profile, prolonged fangs with pouring streams of blood dripping downward, anointing the image of the commander and bringing home the horrific, insane and malicious nature of the organization and its ultimate leader.”

SOURCE: Excerpted from IRON GATES by Tempel ov Blood, published by Martinet Press 2014 (ISBN-10:  0692306587, ISBN-13: 978-0692306581) IRON GATES is a sci-fi horror / post-apocalyptic novel, detailing a bleak view of the spiritual horrors of the world-to-come. Set seventy years after a worldwide nuclear conflagration, IRON GATES allows the reader a sight into a nightmarish landscape populated by even more nightmarish characters in a hideous future which leaves little to the imagination. Brutal and unsparing, it is not suitable for readers under 18. Readers should be advised of extreme graphic content.

Graphic courtesy anonymous TOB supporter featuring GULAG supporter pin manufactured by Martinet Press. Information on how to obtain a GULAG supporter pin can be found here.

A SORCERY WRITTEN IN BLOOD

“The cold blue point of the bayonet continued to toy with the flimsy garments of the squiggling child, slowly opening its shirt to reveal a pale white chest holding a fast-beating heart, sped up considerably due to duress, thumping heavily beneath its flesh.Seeing this from her location several paces off the mother’s cries of distress began to reach horrific proportions.

The field marshal raised his left hand in a brief gesture, to which the guards holding her responded by grabbing a handful of her honey-blonde hair and yanking her head downward as another attached a rubber ball-gag to her mouth, stifling her screams so that now only the sound of the infant’s cries permeated the wooded landscape.

As if on cue, the field marshal suddenly arced his rifle behind his head and drove it down, skewering the child on the tip of the bayonet. The bayonet set deep into the innocent flesh, directly penetrating into the child’s heart, causing a stream of arterial flow to shoot several feet into the air. The field marshal raised the rifle back up into the air above his head, the bayonet bloody with the crimson flow from its most recent child sacrifice, a veritable moloch in the form of a machined rifle, the small child’s limbs convulsing in its death throes.

Deftly and with much skill, as he had assuredly done this before, the field marshal held the rifle at an angle so that the blood flowed downward without soaking the preciously oiled metal of the main part of the gun. Smiling beneath his thick black mustache, the field marshal eyed the mother: his eyes filled with an insane mania, hers filled with a shock beyond all reason. The child’s cries were now silent and he placed his mouth in line of the blood flow allowing the rivulets of blood to fill his mouth, staining his face and mustache in hideous ornamentation.” – Iron Gates

SOURCE: Excerpted from IRON GATES by Tempel ov Blood, published by Martinet Press 2014 (ISBN-10:  0692306587, ISBN-13: 978-0692306581) IRON GATES is a sci-fi horror / post-apocalyptic novel, detailing a bleak view of the spiritual horrors of the world-to-come. Set seventy years after a worldwide nuclear conflagration, IRON GATES allows the reader a sight into a nightmarish landscape populated by even more nightmarish characters in a hideous future which leaves little to the imagination. Brutal and unsparing, it is not suitable for readers under 18. Readers should be advised of extreme graphic content.

Documentary film footage depicts initial chapter portions of IRON GATES written in human blood, supplied by a SUBAGENT SPECIALIST of the TOB who, in an ordeal of horrific fanaticism, is undergoing for a second time the grim task of copying the entire four-hundred plus volume rendered in their own blood.

This second blood written volume will be bound and retained as a centerpiece for an outward staging area of the TOB sector in question in furtherance of real-world evil fundamentally amoral in nature, bereft of all human strictures.

May the hand of all undead hierarchy within the blood pool be upon him and may the shades of every perverse and fanatic member of the clandestine organization personnel who has come before guide their razor toward the ultimate fulfillment of HELL ON EARTH.

tumblr_lpf4gdPwOy1qjt1hwo1_500