WASPISH DESPOT

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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.

GREAT TERROR

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GULAG “Black Lodge Discipline Center” presents a hideous inaugural power electronics delivery and the first audio project internal to and authorized by the Tempel ov Blood. A harsh sonic delivery, GULAG is spearheaded by a Commissar of the TOB and features liberal samples of actual correctional punishments, abuse and forced worship recorded within the TOB’s Black Lodge Discipline Center.

Now available in a professional cassette release on the thirtieth of July in honor of the Great Terror via Deathwave Nexion and licensed through Martinet Press. Available from TOB directly for $10 USD including shipping and handling. GULAG “Black Lodge Discipline Center” cassette, TOB support patch and GULAG badge $25 USD shipping and handling inclusive. Purchase within United States only. Inquiries to: nightmover@hush.com

“I was made to lie face down and beaten on the soles of my feet and my spine with a rubber strap … For the next few days, when those parts of my legs were covered with extensive internal hemorrhaging, they again beat the red-blue-and-yellow bruises with the strap and the pain was so intense that it felt as if boiling water was being poured on these sensitive areas. I howled and wept from the pain. I incriminated myself in the hope that by telling them lies I could end the ordeal.”

 

 

 

 

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.

AWAITING SATANIC DESTINY

“The stories told of the most brutal and uncaring of the survivors of the apocalypse – those who had not sought to eke out some semblance of the normative reality that most of society had once known prior to the nuclear wars but rather those who had already possessed a penchant for ultra-violence, those suffuse with the most degraded of human proclivities that had been accelerated by the increasing state of upheaval that led to the final terminal nightmare. For that sort the nuclear wars – and the chaos that ensued – represented opportunity. In their minds, the fact that they had counted themselves among the few survivors amidst the termination of billions held within it the promise of a satanic destiny awaiting. While many of them had enjoyed their own sadistic pleasures either singly or in small bands the reputation quickly spread of the southern area where large-sale organized terror was being fomented systematically – rumors of a region that represented the zenith of hell on earth administered by demons in flesh bodies whose appetite for bloodshed, carnage and horror knew no bounds.” 

“Britta saw the images of her sister from the day of wrath – tall sinewy body bearing only the slightest signs of womanhood sheathed within an immaculate white now stained with splatters of blood – yellow poisonous mists rising around her, eyes concealed behind platinum mirror reflecting exploding ordnance and life-draining chemical smoke. Harsh orders spoken in amplified, robotic cadence issuing forth from helmeted head – urging, cajoling, directing her troops toward further and ever-horrific acts of genocidal abandon.”

“Smoke from burning buildings wafted thickly on the winter air and the sounds of children crying, the moans of the critically injured and the sounds of armed carriers engaging in preparatory training maneuvers melded seamlessly with the incongruous sounds of roosters crowing and penned up swine grunting in hopeless premeditation of a morning slop. Dead bodies were piled like cordwood along the sides of the bombed-out dwellings – sacrificial victims of the organization’s martial carnage of the day before. This was the country – Bluebird country.”

SOURCE: Excerpts from BLUEBIRD – forthcoming from Martinet Press in 2016. 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. The second installment of the post-apocalyptic trilogy authored by the Tempel ov Blood that began with IRON GATES.

Audio and graphic featuring the track QUEEN OF RADIATION courtesy ARCHON.

COMMANDANT

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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.

 

EVIL WITHOUT LIMITS

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Authorized and produced with the full concurrence of the TOB these official support patches are for those in allegiance to the ghastly blood pool, the Undead Gods, and ‘evil without limits’.

Durable construction, woven black field with TOB crest fully embroidered in white, black border piping and iron-on back adhesive for ease of application.

$10 USD including free shipping worldwide. Multiple payment options accepted. Released via the auspices of Martinet Press, orders fulfilled and shipping directly from the Hinterlands. Inquiries send PM or write to: martinetpress@protonmail.ch

BLOOD BEAST

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“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.

THE FANGS OF THE UNDEAD BRING THE BLOOD OF DOMINION

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Elspeth wiped the blood from her sword and let out a garbled scream of ecstasy, dominion and revelation as the droplets of blood pooled at her feet along with the varied fragments of brain matter and internal organs which had attached themselves to the wetness of the blood upon the metal. The spilled lifeforce of her recently dispatched had been many, so it seemed, yet she – in her rapture – could not remember.

While her body, that other – that own, flesh body that she controlled remotely – was physically running through the alleyways of Osaka from the massacre which she had created but which her handlers had facilitated, her consciousness was here; set upon a high black platform of enormous hewn black stone thrust out from a similarly constructed black fortress set behind her. Sweet, sweet Ellie, she thought to herself.

A cold wind blew and made her shiver involuntarily and, looking down, she could ascertain that she was nearly naked except for an obscene garment of shining leather which was connected only by various black straps and ultimately, as such, revealing of flesh.

Revealing, yet also grimly utilitarian, with a thicker belt across her waist which carried various horrific instruments of torture – small, teeth-bearing blades of tarnished steel and other similar yet nearly lethal devices, constructed for the sole purpose of torture, the application of which could only be imagined.

A larger sling was attached across her back and there she sheathed her sword, the gore which once decorated its length now spattered in red upon her hands and collected beneath her feet, the latter encased in high boots and fitted with a strangely futuristic tread in comparison to her erstwhile semi-medieval surroundings.

She cast her eyes downward across the sweeping vistas of the plains beneath her that led to the horrific forests and myriad sundry terrors beyond them on the far border. Here and there her death squads hacked bodies and burned some of the small remaining structures which the people, now dead, had inhabited. Her mouth widened into a hideous and sadistic grin as she saw them rip children from the bosoms of their mother and feast upon them with fang-like teeth as well as employing other sundry attentions upon their flesh in innumerable fashions.

Smoke billowed upward in starts and fits, dispersed by the eddies of wind which drove its way up along the side of the mountain and the walls of the black fortress toward higher vistas still. She thrilled with her own bloodlust and other more sexual lusts. Dear father, dearest, sweet and succulent sister. Flesh can be prepared in so many different ways, she mused.

Elspeth must not dwell in this interdimensional space too long now though for her slave – that corpse she controlled – needed her elsewhere. Careful, intent ministrations were needed. Somewhere far beyond her but coming closer as her eyes began to flutter into another consciousness the cold of the summit gave way to intense heat and somewhere, the crow of a cockerel sounded.

SOURCE: Narrative excerpted from the novella Lera’s Torment – forthcoming from Martinet Press. 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.

ELSPETH THE INSANE

“Ellie giggled insanely as she sat upon the rug of the affluent traditionally decorated house on the outskirts of Osaka, naked and covered in semen, as the torment sat on the floor several feet before her pulsating with a slow, sickening glow which illuminated the shaded room, lit only by the glow of the amulet and the haze of the late afternoon sun filtering in through the narrow slats in the windows…”

Several Japanese businessmen sat around her in a semi-circle in states of half-undress, their expensive suits and slacks laying in heaps on the floor along with their briefs, though most of them still wore white undershirts and some of them still had on their dress shirts though the buttons and ties were in states of no small disarray.

Within the churning prai oil of the amulet Ellie and the others in the room could see the spirit of the torment swirling in a state of anti-gravity, her hands alternately raised above her head in the gestures of dance and running them over her own celestial body in a state of sensuous rapture. At times the spirit would open her mouth and the communication would come through telepathically into Ellie’s mind in the form of a sharp pain between her eyebrows, followed by a shower of energy which rained down around her after bursting from the crown of her head in a sparkling cascade. The men sitting around her and the amulet experienced neither of these questionable dispensations from the torment but instead heard a small but fell whispering of indistinguishable language each time the entity opened its mouth and the rustling of a foul current of air which could only have been the product of supernatural phenomena, given the fact that the room was closed and sealed off to the outside both externally and internally.

Ellie raised herself to her full height and stretched languorously – as she did so the mouths of the businessmen congregated in the semi-circle peeled back in a rictus of horror. Their seminal fluid which coated her face, breasts, legs and posterior visibly glowed with a golden hue and as she turned her gaze toward them they saw that her eyes had receded into their sockets and in their place a similar golden shimmering was present, much brighter and much more violent than that which emanated from the torment itself. A feral snarl emitted from Ellie’s pursed mouth as it slowly peeled back into a hideous and insane grin.

As suddenly the room went dark, the rays of the earthly sun from outside and the erstwhile glow of the torment being subsumed in the pitch blackness that had been created from the internal potency of Ellie and the torment so combined. Distressed cries arose from amidst the few congregants, soon replaced by the sounds of grotesque gurgling, the snapping of bones and the sound of blood splattering upon the walls.

When the light returned the businessmen lay splayed here and there in indiscriminate fashion, bowels and organs sitting beside bodies with their limbs spread akimbo and features mutilated beyond all knowable recognition. Ellie crouched in one corner of the room covered in gory rivulets of crimson, the torment clutched to her breast and the blood of her former attendants slicked down her back slowly seeping and staining outward across the paper wall upon which she leaned and which beyond lay worlds beyond worlds for her and the torment to discover, together.

IRON GATES AS REVIEWED BY ASTRAL BONE GNAWERS LODGE

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“The atmosphere of the story is shrouded in hopelessness so effectively described in the cold grey sky without sun which is the new reality in this radioactive, nuclear winter darkness, and also with high concrete walls of the old penitentiary that serves as organizational headquarters, its cells and bars, encompassed with barb wire. However that outside view of its walls, harsh as it may seem, gives you only a glimpse of what might be going on inside but still fails to plant the seed of expectation deep enough in your psyche to let the imagination flourish well enough. Wild as that imagination of yours may be it still couldn’t take you to the levels of horror the writer so brilliantly played with. These descriptions are one of the very best aspects of the book, as the writer went into such detail, painting so vividly the inside walls into the colors of blood and suffering, that it all keeps you on the edge of your seat while reading.”

READ FULL REVIEW HERE