LOADING DATA
Griffar
Members | |
---|---|
Last known | |
Drakhian | Guitars (1997-?) |
Member(bands): Seth, Black Dementia, Drakhian, Fornication, Loudblast, Taake (live) | |
Hellskrim | Vocals, Guitars (1997-?) |
Alsvid | Drums (2005-?) |
Member(bands): Ad Patres, Seth, Morning Rise, Psalm, Fornication, Goatlord Corp., Code, E-Force, Enthroned, Asgard, Monarchia Daemonium (live) | |
Past | |
Olivier | Guitars |
Member(bands): Acrocyanose, Sommerlund, Krepuskule, Lyr Drowning | |
Krakken | Bass (1997-?) |
Maldoror | Drums (1997-?) |
Member(bands): Profane, Skar |
# | Discography | Type | Year | |
---|---|---|---|---|
1 | Of Witches and Celts | Demo | 2000 | Show album |
2 | Promo 2006 | Demo | 2006 | Show album |
3 | Monastery | Full-length | 2011 | Show album |
Of Witches and Celts
Album versions
Release date | Label | Catalog ID | Format | Description |
---|---|---|---|---|
2000 | Independent | Cassette | ||
2002 | ISO666 Releases | IS10 | CD | Reissue |
November 21st, 2019 | Non Serviam Records | Digital |
Members | |
---|---|
Drakhian | Guitars |
Hellskrim | Vocals, Guitars |
Krakken | Bass |
Maldoror | Drums |
Tracks | |||
---|---|---|---|
Side A - Chronicle of a Blazing Witchcraft | |||
1. | A Host in the Toad Candle | 14:25 | Show lyrics |
Their heads capped with mitres and bodies lubricated with unguent, the witches of Dauphine were heading toward the Sabbath, and within the tenebrous wood the Infamous dark silhouette shone through the obscurity. Obeying his malicious intention, the children of sin renounced the christian religion. Trampling the Cross underfoot, spitting on the Crucifix, loathing the Trinity and Virgin, blaspheming mentioning the name of God, they pledged their allegiance to the Devil. Crawling in the mire, their sacrilegious mouths laid their lips in a ritual kiss on the Great Goat’s heinous parts. Draining the Holy Baptism’s traces, Satan marked his faithul ones’ brow with a scratch of his sharp claws. Answering his call, like the mariner to the siren’s song, the women of perversity danced, mocking Virgin Mary’s chastity, and, following the tune of the dark minstrel, changed partner blithely. In an atmosphere of hystery and libidinous ecstasy, these shamanic trances preceded a reversed liturgy. Wrapped in a black alb, the Master of Ceremony, in a parody of mass prayers, drank the blood of a newborn infant and offered the Host to a toad which, reduced to ashes, would make up a baneful powder. As a reward for these immortal deeds, the Master of Darkness handed the witches gold coins which, as soon as he had flown away, turned into mud. On a cold night of december 1484, the Pope, Innocent the eighth, got wind of these heretical perversions and superstitious acts of infamy. One single bull from the Servant of God’s servants - "Summis Desiderantes Affectibus" - was sufficient to lead to the stake those persons that had abandoned themselves to the incubus and succubus demons. The Devil’s worshippers answered this repression by setting to send this Alcide to the eternal flames of Hell. Surrounded by his evil accomplices, the Master of Ceremony prepared a spell with the aid of a consumed toad’s powder. He blended the papal candles’ wax with harmful preparation. Brought inside the Vatican City through a devilish stratagem, the impures candles pined for being lighted by Innocent’s carefree hand. Four years of fire! Four years of wait before, one eve, interrupting suddenly his readings of the Psalms, the Holy Father of a murderous Church lighted one of these enchanted candles. Slowly, silently, invisibly, the deadly poison, fruit of baleful mysteries, escaped from this wax where it had been imprisoned for so long a time. The candle’s curse be done. A Host in the Toad Candle... A ritual for the mighty! A Host in the Toad Candle... Brought the pain and misery! A Host in the Toad Candle... The eighth deadly sin! On a sad morning of winter 1492, an odious event was announced across the whole Europe, stuck by such a news: the Pope wad dead. |
|||
2. | Ensnared by the Scarlet Oath | 13:41 | Show lyrics |
The Pope’s funeral reignited the Divine Wrath. Anxious to see its cruel charity applied, the Church sent the Grand Inquisitor to the Court. The saving hand of this soul crusher would release the axe of a recovered peace on his occult convict. Almost all the Master of Ceremony’s accomplices had already found death in the purificatory flames of the Great Holy Snake. Yet none of them renounced to the adoration they vowed to Satan. The tortures inflicted by the Dominican Monks were but a sweet prelude to the eternal suffering which they seemed to pine for. Freed from their mortal coil, their tormented spirits wandered once again in the kingdom of He who brought those demons forth. The sorcerer’s lips dripped with molten lead. The iron heated red brushed against this body once pierced by the bites of the Ancient Serpent. Unlike the burning remembrance of his Master, none of the ordeals could warm up his body Night-like cold. Never would this mouth that had kissed the horned Goat’s croup betray him, as now the flames of the Gehenna were so close. "The stake! What miserable punishment for such a sorcerer, as one who would die to see his soul cleaned of his sins. Thou, once so proud, shalt beseech me to put and end to they suffering. I implore thee to renounce to the Devil. I order thee to cherish the Cross of the Christ. At dawn, my prayers for three shall be answered, I will have the bounty and grace to have thee hanged. Gently, the Angel of Death, in a noble gesture, it shall take they away." Each second rang out, like the tolling of the bell. In his jail, gloomy crypt, the sorcerer awaited the end of a never-ending torture. He threw handfuls of salt unto the eyes of the rats which gnawed to the bone his ankles hurt by the boot. A monk came ere every mass to hear his confession. The prisoner would only speak to beg for the salt exorcized those crepuscular demons, tirelessly getting intoxicated with his blood. In his extreme seclusion, he praised Satan for the last time. As psalmodies echoed from their Chapel, the Devil turned up. Suddenly, the dreadful antidote terrified His Infernal Highness. Salt! Odious crystals by the perfidious Christians to scare the malicious spirits. And Lo! One of his friends had used it. It scalded his hoofs like a lake of fire and sulphur. This error from a very human should not remain unpunished... "Tonight, renounce to God, to the Holy Virgin, to the Nine Choirs of the Angels, to the Saints of Paradise, and I promise thee thou shalt delight with me to suffer pain eternal!" The sorcerer signed with his blood this pact through which he would taste immortality. To honour his oath, he blasphemed, till blood flowed out of the ears of the monk that kept him. As the Moon was breaking through the clouds, his face was flooded with this woeful gleam. The dawn of merciful God’s wrath pointed. The monk, kneeling before the Inquisitor’s feet, reported the libellous attitude of the prisoner. The tormentor, under the hold of fury, warned sorcerer that his punishment would be exemplary... Torture till death! Pale, the convict glanced to the scaffold, remembering the Covenant concluded with the Devil. He was bound to know purgatory on Earth. So it shall be written. So it shall be done. In the keep above, the Inquisitor, crossing himself, was watching the man devoid of repentance getting tortured again... And again... And again... |
|||
Side B - Celtic Spectre | |||
3. | The Sanctuary of Cursed Warriors | 07:56 | Show lyrics |
The Cevennes Massif rose proudly above the horizon. Numerous Celts were still hiding in the majestic oak forest. Coming from the mountains of Central Europe, they fled the heavy glare of their enemies, Since Caesar’s entrance in Gaul, the rites had went on, isolated from the Empire converted to Christianity. The Sanctuary erected in praise of Cernunnos was buried under the luxuriant vegetation. The candles prostrated before his horn-trimmed face let a dark light shine. He represented death, evil, underground treasures, and night when the horns of the Moon shone. The Celtic horde saw him as the personification of their way of life. Thus he was the God they revered most by the ancestral customs that remain. Cernunnos’ worship consisted in sacrifices. The more the victim suffered, the more the God’s greed was satisfied. A disease due to consanguinity decimated most of the Celts. Afraid that Lug, God of the rising day, would knock Cernunnos down, those who stayed alive undertook to honour the Spirit of the Night. Spying on the forest, they lied in wait for a sign of human presence. As they passed by the Sanctuary, pilgrims were bethroted, and their blood ran on the Altar as an offering to the God of Death. Bloodthirsty, Cernunnos did not be long to drive his banner in the corpses. One of the managed to escape and warned of blinding light. The Christians came to defile the Celtic forest and slaughter its inhabitants, who did not conform to follow the weak flock like lambs. The inerts bodies, covered in blood still a-foaming with courage, were the only remains of this heroic slaughter. The ravens were swooping down on the corpses rotting in the shade of the majestic forest. Through voracious pecks, the tenebrous birds made Celtic blood stream down, seeping through this cursed earth where damned souls were wandering. |
|||
4. | Under the Sword of the Seventh King | 12:32 | Show lyrics |
Now that the time has come to call the one we waited for. Now that the night covers the canopy with her foggy coat. Apocalyptic prophecy turns into reality. Endless war summons the Demon on Earth from the Abyss. The entrails of the Earth begin to swarm in lunacy. A freezing Moon shimmers at her brightest in the black heart of space. "Virtus Spiritus Sathanas" around the fire of the Beast. The deepest of the forest whispers the Satanic Verse. Thirty-three years before, God’s people had defeated the Celtics. During the battle, only one sheep from the flock got lost in the stream of the Dead. His son was crowned with a helmet trimmed with horns like horns of a lamb. However he showed great bravery, he saw his father die an awful death. The pious child understood why his father had had to drink the Cup of God’s anger, as he showed devotion to the teachings of Jesus Christ. He understood this as a betrayal from the King of kings, and therefore he turned himself against what he believed in. His mind was torn apart during five months. Tortured by grasshoppers with scorpion stings, he suffered the pain inflicted by Abbadon. He seeked death in vain. Not sword, nor plague, nor famine, nor beasts of the Earth could kill him. Never the Angel riding the Greenish Horse came to knock at his door. He then came back to the cursed place where his father had been killed. There, he built a a hateful citadel which was compared to Babylon. This place was the refuge of all sorts of evil spirits. The atmosphere was riffled with luxury and immorality. The most precious goods were exchanged in this sinister temple where the ground was blooded. ’Tis from this shore that the son who claimed himself to be the Seventh King and wore a name insulting towards God hatched the War. All men adored his blazon which portrayed a frog. ’Tis by the sword that his enemies are slaughtered. When his armies won the battle, he became drunk with the blood of God’s people limbs. At it is in the chalice given to him by his father that he drank this blood still flowing. |
|||
48:34 |
Promo 2006
Members | |
---|---|
Drakhian | Guitars |
Hellskrim | Vocals, Guitars |
Alsvid | Drums |
Tracks | |||
---|---|---|---|
1. | Blessed in Lava | 09:16 | |
(loading lyrics...) | |||
2. | Tale of the Navigator | 08:13 | |
(loading lyrics...) | |||
17:29 |
Monastery
Album versions
Release date | Label | Catalog ID | Format | Description |
---|---|---|---|---|
October 7th, 2011 | Non Serviam Records | NSR 002 | CD | |
December 30th, 2013 | Non Serviam Records | Digital | Bandcamp |
Members | |
---|---|
Band members | |
Drakhian | Guitars |
Hellskrim | Vocals, Guitars |
Alsvid | Drums |
Miscellaneous staff | |
Laboartory | Artwork |
Tracks | |||
---|---|---|---|
1. | Blessed in Lava | 08:53 | |
(loading lyrics...) | |||
2. | Monastery | 03:56 | |
(loading lyrics...) | |||
3. | Relentless Infamy | 03:32 | |
(loading lyrics...) | |||
4. | The Demented God | 05:39 | |
(loading lyrics...) | |||
5. | My Wolf Legacy | 07:50 | |
(loading lyrics...) | |||
6. | Tale of the Navigator | 06:08 | |
(loading lyrics...) | |||
7. | Diabolical Kingdoms | 01:49 | |
(loading lyrics...) | |||
8. | Rebirth | 05:24 | |
(loading lyrics...) | |||
9. | Last World | 09:34 | |
(loading lyrics...) | |||
52:45 |
Of Witches and Celts
Members | |
---|---|
Drakhian | Guitars |
Hellskrim | Vocals, Guitars |
Krakken | Bass |
Maldoror | Drums |
Tracks | |||
---|---|---|---|
Side A - Chronicle of a Blazing Witchcraft | |||
1. | A Host in the Toad Candle | 14:25 | Show lyrics |
Their heads capped with mitres and bodies lubricated with unguent, the witches of Dauphine were heading toward the Sabbath, and within the tenebrous wood the Infamous dark silhouette shone through the obscurity. Obeying his malicious intention, the children of sin renounced the christian religion. Trampling the Cross underfoot, spitting on the Crucifix, loathing the Trinity and Virgin, blaspheming mentioning the name of God, they pledged their allegiance to the Devil. Crawling in the mire, their sacrilegious mouths laid their lips in a ritual kiss on the Great Goat’s heinous parts. Draining the Holy Baptism’s traces, Satan marked his faithul ones’ brow with a scratch of his sharp claws. Answering his call, like the mariner to the siren’s song, the women of perversity danced, mocking Virgin Mary’s chastity, and, following the tune of the dark minstrel, changed partner blithely. In an atmosphere of hystery and libidinous ecstasy, these shamanic trances preceded a reversed liturgy. Wrapped in a black alb, the Master of Ceremony, in a parody of mass prayers, drank the blood of a newborn infant and offered the Host to a toad which, reduced to ashes, would make up a baneful powder. As a reward for these immortal deeds, the Master of Darkness handed the witches gold coins which, as soon as he had flown away, turned into mud. On a cold night of december 1484, the Pope, Innocent the eighth, got wind of these heretical perversions and superstitious acts of infamy. One single bull from the Servant of God’s servants - "Summis Desiderantes Affectibus" - was sufficient to lead to the stake those persons that had abandoned themselves to the incubus and succubus demons. The Devil’s worshippers answered this repression by setting to send this Alcide to the eternal flames of Hell. Surrounded by his evil accomplices, the Master of Ceremony prepared a spell with the aid of a consumed toad’s powder. He blended the papal candles’ wax with harmful preparation. Brought inside the Vatican City through a devilish stratagem, the impures candles pined for being lighted by Innocent’s carefree hand. Four years of fire! Four years of wait before, one eve, interrupting suddenly his readings of the Psalms, the Holy Father of a murderous Church lighted one of these enchanted candles. Slowly, silently, invisibly, the deadly poison, fruit of baleful mysteries, escaped from this wax where it had been imprisoned for so long a time. The candle’s curse be done. A Host in the Toad Candle... A ritual for the mighty! A Host in the Toad Candle... Brought the pain and misery! A Host in the Toad Candle... The eighth deadly sin! On a sad morning of winter 1492, an odious event was announced across the whole Europe, stuck by such a news: the Pope wad dead. |
|||
2. | Ensnared by the Scarlet Oath | 13:41 | Show lyrics |
The Pope’s funeral reignited the Divine Wrath. Anxious to see its cruel charity applied, the Church sent the Grand Inquisitor to the Court. The saving hand of this soul crusher would release the axe of a recovered peace on his occult convict. Almost all the Master of Ceremony’s accomplices had already found death in the purificatory flames of the Great Holy Snake. Yet none of them renounced to the adoration they vowed to Satan. The tortures inflicted by the Dominican Monks were but a sweet prelude to the eternal suffering which they seemed to pine for. Freed from their mortal coil, their tormented spirits wandered once again in the kingdom of He who brought those demons forth. The sorcerer’s lips dripped with molten lead. The iron heated red brushed against this body once pierced by the bites of the Ancient Serpent. Unlike the burning remembrance of his Master, none of the ordeals could warm up his body Night-like cold. Never would this mouth that had kissed the horned Goat’s croup betray him, as now the flames of the Gehenna were so close. "The stake! What miserable punishment for such a sorcerer, as one who would die to see his soul cleaned of his sins. Thou, once so proud, shalt beseech me to put and end to they suffering. I implore thee to renounce to the Devil. I order thee to cherish the Cross of the Christ. At dawn, my prayers for three shall be answered, I will have the bounty and grace to have thee hanged. Gently, the Angel of Death, in a noble gesture, it shall take they away." Each second rang out, like the tolling of the bell. In his jail, gloomy crypt, the sorcerer awaited the end of a never-ending torture. He threw handfuls of salt unto the eyes of the rats which gnawed to the bone his ankles hurt by the boot. A monk came ere every mass to hear his confession. The prisoner would only speak to beg for the salt exorcized those crepuscular demons, tirelessly getting intoxicated with his blood. In his extreme seclusion, he praised Satan for the last time. As psalmodies echoed from their Chapel, the Devil turned up. Suddenly, the dreadful antidote terrified His Infernal Highness. Salt! Odious crystals by the perfidious Christians to scare the malicious spirits. And Lo! One of his friends had used it. It scalded his hoofs like a lake of fire and sulphur. This error from a very human should not remain unpunished... "Tonight, renounce to God, to the Holy Virgin, to the Nine Choirs of the Angels, to the Saints of Paradise, and I promise thee thou shalt delight with me to suffer pain eternal!" The sorcerer signed with his blood this pact through which he would taste immortality. To honour his oath, he blasphemed, till blood flowed out of the ears of the monk that kept him. As the Moon was breaking through the clouds, his face was flooded with this woeful gleam. The dawn of merciful God’s wrath pointed. The monk, kneeling before the Inquisitor’s feet, reported the libellous attitude of the prisoner. The tormentor, under the hold of fury, warned sorcerer that his punishment would be exemplary... Torture till death! Pale, the convict glanced to the scaffold, remembering the Covenant concluded with the Devil. He was bound to know purgatory on Earth. So it shall be written. So it shall be done. In the keep above, the Inquisitor, crossing himself, was watching the man devoid of repentance getting tortured again... And again... And again... |
|||
Side B - Celtic Spectre | |||
3. | The Sanctuary of Cursed Warriors | 07:56 | Show lyrics |
The Cevennes Massif rose proudly above the horizon. Numerous Celts were still hiding in the majestic oak forest. Coming from the mountains of Central Europe, they fled the heavy glare of their enemies, Since Caesar’s entrance in Gaul, the rites had went on, isolated from the Empire converted to Christianity. The Sanctuary erected in praise of Cernunnos was buried under the luxuriant vegetation. The candles prostrated before his horn-trimmed face let a dark light shine. He represented death, evil, underground treasures, and night when the horns of the Moon shone. The Celtic horde saw him as the personification of their way of life. Thus he was the God they revered most by the ancestral customs that remain. Cernunnos’ worship consisted in sacrifices. The more the victim suffered, the more the God’s greed was satisfied. A disease due to consanguinity decimated most of the Celts. Afraid that Lug, God of the rising day, would knock Cernunnos down, those who stayed alive undertook to honour the Spirit of the Night. Spying on the forest, they lied in wait for a sign of human presence. As they passed by the Sanctuary, pilgrims were bethroted, and their blood ran on the Altar as an offering to the God of Death. Bloodthirsty, Cernunnos did not be long to drive his banner in the corpses. One of the managed to escape and warned of blinding light. The Christians came to defile the Celtic forest and slaughter its inhabitants, who did not conform to follow the weak flock like lambs. The inerts bodies, covered in blood still a-foaming with courage, were the only remains of this heroic slaughter. The ravens were swooping down on the corpses rotting in the shade of the majestic forest. Through voracious pecks, the tenebrous birds made Celtic blood stream down, seeping through this cursed earth where damned souls were wandering. |
|||
4. | Under the Sword of the Seventh King | 12:32 | Show lyrics |
Now that the time has come to call the one we waited for. Now that the night covers the canopy with her foggy coat. Apocalyptic prophecy turns into reality. Endless war summons the Demon on Earth from the Abyss. The entrails of the Earth begin to swarm in lunacy. A freezing Moon shimmers at her brightest in the black heart of space. "Virtus Spiritus Sathanas" around the fire of the Beast. The deepest of the forest whispers the Satanic Verse. Thirty-three years before, God’s people had defeated the Celtics. During the battle, only one sheep from the flock got lost in the stream of the Dead. His son was crowned with a helmet trimmed with horns like horns of a lamb. However he showed great bravery, he saw his father die an awful death. The pious child understood why his father had had to drink the Cup of God’s anger, as he showed devotion to the teachings of Jesus Christ. He understood this as a betrayal from the King of kings, and therefore he turned himself against what he believed in. His mind was torn apart during five months. Tortured by grasshoppers with scorpion stings, he suffered the pain inflicted by Abbadon. He seeked death in vain. Not sword, nor plague, nor famine, nor beasts of the Earth could kill him. Never the Angel riding the Greenish Horse came to knock at his door. He then came back to the cursed place where his father had been killed. There, he built a a hateful citadel which was compared to Babylon. This place was the refuge of all sorts of evil spirits. The atmosphere was riffled with luxury and immorality. The most precious goods were exchanged in this sinister temple where the ground was blooded. ’Tis from this shore that the son who claimed himself to be the Seventh King and wore a name insulting towards God hatched the War. All men adored his blazon which portrayed a frog. ’Tis by the sword that his enemies are slaughtered. When his armies won the battle, he became drunk with the blood of God’s people limbs. At it is in the chalice given to him by his father that he drank this blood still flowing. |
|||
48:34 |
Of Witches and Celts
Members | |
---|---|
Original line-up | |
Band members | |
Drakhian | Guitars |
Hellskrim | Vocals, Guitars |
Krakken | Bass |
Maldoror | Drums |
Tracks | |||
---|---|---|---|
1. | A Host in the Toad Candle | 14:25 | Show lyrics |
Their heads capped with mitres and bodies lubricated with unguent, the witches of Dauphine were heading toward the Sabbath, and within the tenebrous wood the Infamous dark silhouette shone through the obscurity. Obeying his malicious intention, the children of sin renounced the christian religion. Trampling the Cross underfoot, spitting on the Crucifix, loathing the Trinity and Virgin, blaspheming mentioning the name of God, they pledged their allegiance to the Devil. Crawling in the mire, their sacrilegious mouths laid their lips in a ritual kiss on the Great Goat’s heinous parts. Draining the Holy Baptism’s traces, Satan marked his faithul ones’ brow with a scratch of his sharp claws. Answering his call, like the mariner to the siren’s song, the women of perversity danced, mocking Virgin Mary’s chastity, and, following the tune of the dark minstrel, changed partner blithely. In an atmosphere of hystery and libidinous ecstasy, these shamanic trances preceded a reversed liturgy. Wrapped in a black alb, the Master of Ceremony, in a parody of mass prayers, drank the blood of a newborn infant and offered the Host to a toad which, reduced to ashes, would make up a baneful powder. As a reward for these immortal deeds, the Master of Darkness handed the witches gold coins which, as soon as he had flown away, turned into mud. On a cold night of december 1484, the Pope, Innocent the eighth, got wind of these heretical perversions and superstitious acts of infamy. One single bull from the Servant of God’s servants - "Summis Desiderantes Affectibus" - was sufficient to lead to the stake those persons that had abandoned themselves to the incubus and succubus demons. The Devil’s worshippers answered this repression by setting to send this Alcide to the eternal flames of Hell. Surrounded by his evil accomplices, the Master of Ceremony prepared a spell with the aid of a consumed toad’s powder. He blended the papal candles’ wax with harmful preparation. Brought inside the Vatican City through a devilish stratagem, the impures candles pined for being lighted by Innocent’s carefree hand. Four years of fire! Four years of wait before, one eve, interrupting suddenly his readings of the Psalms, the Holy Father of a murderous Church lighted one of these enchanted candles. Slowly, silently, invisibly, the deadly poison, fruit of baleful mysteries, escaped from this wax where it had been imprisoned for so long a time. The candle’s curse be done. A Host in the Toad Candle... A ritual for the mighty! A Host in the Toad Candle... Brought the pain and misery! A Host in the Toad Candle... The eighth deadly sin! On a sad morning of winter 1492, an odious event was announced across the whole Europe, stuck by such a news: the Pope wad dead. |
|||
2. | Ensnared by the Scarlet Oath | 13:41 | Show lyrics |
The Pope’s funeral reignited the Divine Wrath. Anxious to see its cruel charity applied, the Church sent the Grand Inquisitor to the Court. The saving hand of this soul crusher would release the axe of a recovered peace on his occult convict. Almost all the Master of Ceremony’s accomplices had already found death in the purificatory flames of the Great Holy Snake. Yet none of them renounced to the adoration they vowed to Satan. The tortures inflicted by the Dominican Monks were but a sweet prelude to the eternal suffering which they seemed to pine for. Freed from their mortal coil, their tormented spirits wandered once again in the kingdom of He who brought those demons forth. The sorcerer’s lips dripped with molten lead. The iron heated red brushed against this body once pierced by the bites of the Ancient Serpent. Unlike the burning remembrance of his Master, none of the ordeals could warm up his body Night-like cold. Never would this mouth that had kissed the horned Goat’s croup betray him, as now the flames of the Gehenna were so close. "The stake! What miserable punishment for such a sorcerer, as one who would die to see his soul cleaned of his sins. Thou, once so proud, shalt beseech me to put and end to they suffering. I implore thee to renounce to the Devil. I order thee to cherish the Cross of the Christ. At dawn, my prayers for three shall be answered, I will have the bounty and grace to have thee hanged. Gently, the Angel of Death, in a noble gesture, it shall take they away." Each second rang out, like the tolling of the bell. In his jail, gloomy crypt, the sorcerer awaited the end of a never-ending torture. He threw handfuls of salt unto the eyes of the rats which gnawed to the bone his ankles hurt by the boot. A monk came ere every mass to hear his confession. The prisoner would only speak to beg for the salt exorcized those crepuscular demons, tirelessly getting intoxicated with his blood. In his extreme seclusion, he praised Satan for the last time. As psalmodies echoed from their Chapel, the Devil turned up. Suddenly, the dreadful antidote terrified His Infernal Highness. Salt! Odious crystals by the perfidious Christians to scare the malicious spirits. And Lo! One of his friends had used it. It scalded his hoofs like a lake of fire and sulphur. This error from a very human should not remain unpunished... "Tonight, renounce to God, to the Holy Virgin, to the Nine Choirs of the Angels, to the Saints of Paradise, and I promise thee thou shalt delight with me to suffer pain eternal!" The sorcerer signed with his blood this pact through which he would taste immortality. To honour his oath, he blasphemed, till blood flowed out of the ears of the monk that kept him. As the Moon was breaking through the clouds, his face was flooded with this woeful gleam. The dawn of merciful God’s wrath pointed. The monk, kneeling before the Inquisitor’s feet, reported the libellous attitude of the prisoner. The tormentor, under the hold of fury, warned sorcerer that his punishment would be exemplary... Torture till death! Pale, the convict glanced to the scaffold, remembering the Covenant concluded with the Devil. He was bound to know purgatory on Earth. So it shall be written. So it shall be done. In the keep above, the Inquisitor, crossing himself, was watching the man devoid of repentance getting tortured again... And again... And again... |
|||
3. | The Sanctuary of Cursed Warriors | 07:56 | Show lyrics |
The Cevennes Massif rose proudly above the horizon. Numerous Celts were still hiding in the majestic oak forest. Coming from the mountains of Central Europe, they fled the heavy glare of their enemies, Since Caesar’s entrance in Gaul, the rites had went on, isolated from the Empire converted to Christianity. The Sanctuary erected in praise of Cernunnos was buried under the luxuriant vegetation. The candles prostrated before his horn-trimmed face let a dark light shine. He represented death, evil, underground treasures, and night when the horns of the Moon shone. The Celtic horde saw him as the personification of their way of life. Thus he was the God they revered most by the ancestral customs that remain. Cernunnos’ worship consisted in sacrifices. The more the victim suffered, the more the God’s greed was satisfied. A disease due to consanguinity decimated most of the Celts. Afraid that Lug, God of the rising day, would knock Cernunnos down, those who stayed alive undertook to honour the Spirit of the Night. Spying on the forest, they lied in wait for a sign of human presence. As they passed by the Sanctuary, pilgrims were bethroted, and their blood ran on the Altar as an offering to the God of Death. Bloodthirsty, Cernunnos did not be long to drive his banner in the corpses. One of the managed to escape and warned of blinding light. The Christians came to defile the Celtic forest and slaughter its inhabitants, who did not conform to follow the weak flock like lambs. The inerts bodies, covered in blood still a-foaming with courage, were the only remains of this heroic slaughter. The ravens were swooping down on the corpses rotting in the shade of the majestic forest. Through voracious pecks, the tenebrous birds made Celtic blood stream down, seeping through this cursed earth where damned souls were wandering. |
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4. | Under the Sword of the Seventh King | 12:32 | Show lyrics |
Now that the time has come to call the one we waited for. Now that the night covers the canopy with her foggy coat. Apocalyptic prophecy turns into reality. Endless war summons the Demon on Earth from the Abyss. The entrails of the Earth begin to swarm in lunacy. A freezing Moon shimmers at her brightest in the black heart of space. "Virtus Spiritus Sathanas" around the fire of the Beast. The deepest of the forest whispers the Satanic Verse. Thirty-three years before, God’s people had defeated the Celtics. During the battle, only one sheep from the flock got lost in the stream of the Dead. His son was crowned with a helmet trimmed with horns like horns of a lamb. However he showed great bravery, he saw his father die an awful death. The pious child understood why his father had had to drink the Cup of God’s anger, as he showed devotion to the teachings of Jesus Christ. He understood this as a betrayal from the King of kings, and therefore he turned himself against what he believed in. His mind was torn apart during five months. Tortured by grasshoppers with scorpion stings, he suffered the pain inflicted by Abbadon. He seeked death in vain. Not sword, nor plague, nor famine, nor beasts of the Earth could kill him. Never the Angel riding the Greenish Horse came to knock at his door. He then came back to the cursed place where his father had been killed. There, he built a a hateful citadel which was compared to Babylon. This place was the refuge of all sorts of evil spirits. The atmosphere was riffled with luxury and immorality. The most precious goods were exchanged in this sinister temple where the ground was blooded. ’Tis from this shore that the son who claimed himself to be the Seventh King and wore a name insulting towards God hatched the War. All men adored his blazon which portrayed a frog. ’Tis by the sword that his enemies are slaughtered. When his armies won the battle, he became drunk with the blood of God’s people limbs. At it is in the chalice given to him by his father that he drank this blood still flowing. |
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48:34 |
Of Witches and Celts
Members | |
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Original line-up | |
Band members | |
Drakhian | Guitars |
Hellskrim | Vocals, Guitars |
Krakken | Bass |
Maldoror | Drums |
Tracks | |||
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1. | A Host in the Toad Candle | 14:25 | Show lyrics |
Their heads capped with mitres and bodies lubricated with unguent, the witches of Dauphine were heading toward the Sabbath, and within the tenebrous wood the Infamous dark silhouette shone through the obscurity. Obeying his malicious intention, the children of sin renounced the christian religion. Trampling the Cross underfoot, spitting on the Crucifix, loathing the Trinity and Virgin, blaspheming mentioning the name of God, they pledged their allegiance to the Devil. Crawling in the mire, their sacrilegious mouths laid their lips in a ritual kiss on the Great Goat’s heinous parts. Draining the Holy Baptism’s traces, Satan marked his faithul ones’ brow with a scratch of his sharp claws. Answering his call, like the mariner to the siren’s song, the women of perversity danced, mocking Virgin Mary’s chastity, and, following the tune of the dark minstrel, changed partner blithely. In an atmosphere of hystery and libidinous ecstasy, these shamanic trances preceded a reversed liturgy. Wrapped in a black alb, the Master of Ceremony, in a parody of mass prayers, drank the blood of a newborn infant and offered the Host to a toad which, reduced to ashes, would make up a baneful powder. As a reward for these immortal deeds, the Master of Darkness handed the witches gold coins which, as soon as he had flown away, turned into mud. On a cold night of december 1484, the Pope, Innocent the eighth, got wind of these heretical perversions and superstitious acts of infamy. One single bull from the Servant of God’s servants - "Summis Desiderantes Affectibus" - was sufficient to lead to the stake those persons that had abandoned themselves to the incubus and succubus demons. The Devil’s worshippers answered this repression by setting to send this Alcide to the eternal flames of Hell. Surrounded by his evil accomplices, the Master of Ceremony prepared a spell with the aid of a consumed toad’s powder. He blended the papal candles’ wax with harmful preparation. Brought inside the Vatican City through a devilish stratagem, the impures candles pined for being lighted by Innocent’s carefree hand. Four years of fire! Four years of wait before, one eve, interrupting suddenly his readings of the Psalms, the Holy Father of a murderous Church lighted one of these enchanted candles. Slowly, silently, invisibly, the deadly poison, fruit of baleful mysteries, escaped from this wax where it had been imprisoned for so long a time. The candle’s curse be done. A Host in the Toad Candle... A ritual for the mighty! A Host in the Toad Candle... Brought the pain and misery! A Host in the Toad Candle... The eighth deadly sin! On a sad morning of winter 1492, an odious event was announced across the whole Europe, stuck by such a news: the Pope wad dead. |
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2. | Ensnared by the Scarlet Oath | 13:41 | Show lyrics |
The Pope’s funeral reignited the Divine Wrath. Anxious to see its cruel charity applied, the Church sent the Grand Inquisitor to the Court. The saving hand of this soul crusher would release the axe of a recovered peace on his occult convict. Almost all the Master of Ceremony’s accomplices had already found death in the purificatory flames of the Great Holy Snake. Yet none of them renounced to the adoration they vowed to Satan. The tortures inflicted by the Dominican Monks were but a sweet prelude to the eternal suffering which they seemed to pine for. Freed from their mortal coil, their tormented spirits wandered once again in the kingdom of He who brought those demons forth. The sorcerer’s lips dripped with molten lead. The iron heated red brushed against this body once pierced by the bites of the Ancient Serpent. Unlike the burning remembrance of his Master, none of the ordeals could warm up his body Night-like cold. Never would this mouth that had kissed the horned Goat’s croup betray him, as now the flames of the Gehenna were so close. "The stake! What miserable punishment for such a sorcerer, as one who would die to see his soul cleaned of his sins. Thou, once so proud, shalt beseech me to put and end to they suffering. I implore thee to renounce to the Devil. I order thee to cherish the Cross of the Christ. At dawn, my prayers for three shall be answered, I will have the bounty and grace to have thee hanged. Gently, the Angel of Death, in a noble gesture, it shall take they away." Each second rang out, like the tolling of the bell. In his jail, gloomy crypt, the sorcerer awaited the end of a never-ending torture. He threw handfuls of salt unto the eyes of the rats which gnawed to the bone his ankles hurt by the boot. A monk came ere every mass to hear his confession. The prisoner would only speak to beg for the salt exorcized those crepuscular demons, tirelessly getting intoxicated with his blood. In his extreme seclusion, he praised Satan for the last time. As psalmodies echoed from their Chapel, the Devil turned up. Suddenly, the dreadful antidote terrified His Infernal Highness. Salt! Odious crystals by the perfidious Christians to scare the malicious spirits. And Lo! One of his friends had used it. It scalded his hoofs like a lake of fire and sulphur. This error from a very human should not remain unpunished... "Tonight, renounce to God, to the Holy Virgin, to the Nine Choirs of the Angels, to the Saints of Paradise, and I promise thee thou shalt delight with me to suffer pain eternal!" The sorcerer signed with his blood this pact through which he would taste immortality. To honour his oath, he blasphemed, till blood flowed out of the ears of the monk that kept him. As the Moon was breaking through the clouds, his face was flooded with this woeful gleam. The dawn of merciful God’s wrath pointed. The monk, kneeling before the Inquisitor’s feet, reported the libellous attitude of the prisoner. The tormentor, under the hold of fury, warned sorcerer that his punishment would be exemplary... Torture till death! Pale, the convict glanced to the scaffold, remembering the Covenant concluded with the Devil. He was bound to know purgatory on Earth. So it shall be written. So it shall be done. In the keep above, the Inquisitor, crossing himself, was watching the man devoid of repentance getting tortured again... And again... And again... |
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3. | The Sanctuary of Cursed Warriors | 07:56 | Show lyrics |
The Cevennes Massif rose proudly above the horizon. Numerous Celts were still hiding in the majestic oak forest. Coming from the mountains of Central Europe, they fled the heavy glare of their enemies, Since Caesar’s entrance in Gaul, the rites had went on, isolated from the Empire converted to Christianity. The Sanctuary erected in praise of Cernunnos was buried under the luxuriant vegetation. The candles prostrated before his horn-trimmed face let a dark light shine. He represented death, evil, underground treasures, and night when the horns of the Moon shone. The Celtic horde saw him as the personification of their way of life. Thus he was the God they revered most by the ancestral customs that remain. Cernunnos’ worship consisted in sacrifices. The more the victim suffered, the more the God’s greed was satisfied. A disease due to consanguinity decimated most of the Celts. Afraid that Lug, God of the rising day, would knock Cernunnos down, those who stayed alive undertook to honour the Spirit of the Night. Spying on the forest, they lied in wait for a sign of human presence. As they passed by the Sanctuary, pilgrims were bethroted, and their blood ran on the Altar as an offering to the God of Death. Bloodthirsty, Cernunnos did not be long to drive his banner in the corpses. One of the managed to escape and warned of blinding light. The Christians came to defile the Celtic forest and slaughter its inhabitants, who did not conform to follow the weak flock like lambs. The inerts bodies, covered in blood still a-foaming with courage, were the only remains of this heroic slaughter. The ravens were swooping down on the corpses rotting in the shade of the majestic forest. Through voracious pecks, the tenebrous birds made Celtic blood stream down, seeping through this cursed earth where damned souls were wandering. |
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4. | Under the Sword of the Seventh King | 12:32 | Show lyrics |
Now that the time has come to call the one we waited for. Now that the night covers the canopy with her foggy coat. Apocalyptic prophecy turns into reality. Endless war summons the Demon on Earth from the Abyss. The entrails of the Earth begin to swarm in lunacy. A freezing Moon shimmers at her brightest in the black heart of space. "Virtus Spiritus Sathanas" around the fire of the Beast. The deepest of the forest whispers the Satanic Verse. Thirty-three years before, God’s people had defeated the Celtics. During the battle, only one sheep from the flock got lost in the stream of the Dead. His son was crowned with a helmet trimmed with horns like horns of a lamb. However he showed great bravery, he saw his father die an awful death. The pious child understood why his father had had to drink the Cup of God’s anger, as he showed devotion to the teachings of Jesus Christ. He understood this as a betrayal from the King of kings, and therefore he turned himself against what he believed in. His mind was torn apart during five months. Tortured by grasshoppers with scorpion stings, he suffered the pain inflicted by Abbadon. He seeked death in vain. Not sword, nor plague, nor famine, nor beasts of the Earth could kill him. Never the Angel riding the Greenish Horse came to knock at his door. He then came back to the cursed place where his father had been killed. There, he built a a hateful citadel which was compared to Babylon. This place was the refuge of all sorts of evil spirits. The atmosphere was riffled with luxury and immorality. The most precious goods were exchanged in this sinister temple where the ground was blooded. ’Tis from this shore that the son who claimed himself to be the Seventh King and wore a name insulting towards God hatched the War. All men adored his blazon which portrayed a frog. ’Tis by the sword that his enemies are slaughtered. When his armies won the battle, he became drunk with the blood of God’s people limbs. At it is in the chalice given to him by his father that he drank this blood still flowing. |
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48:34 |
Monastery
Members | |
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Band members | |
Drakhian | Guitars |
Hellskrim | Vocals, Guitars |
Alsvid | Drums |
Miscellaneous staff | |
Laboartory | Artwork |
Tracks | |||
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1. | Blessed in Lava | 08:53 | |
(loading lyrics...) | |||
2. | Monastery | 03:56 | |
(loading lyrics...) | |||
3. | Relentless Infamy | 03:32 | |
(loading lyrics...) | |||
4. | The Demented God | 05:39 | |
(loading lyrics...) | |||
5. | My Wolf Legacy | 07:50 | |
(loading lyrics...) | |||
6. | Tale of the Navigator | 06:08 | |
(loading lyrics...) | |||
7. | Diabolical Kingdoms | 01:49 | |
(loading lyrics...) | |||
8. | Rebirth | 05:24 | |
(loading lyrics...) | |||
9. | Last World | 09:34 | |
(loading lyrics...) | |||
52:45 |
Monastery
Members | |
---|---|
Original line-up | |
Band members | |
Drakhian | Guitars |
Hellskrim | Vocals, Guitars |
Alsvid | Drums |
Miscellaneous staff | |
Laboartory | Artwork |
Tracks | |||
---|---|---|---|
1. | Blessed in Lava | 08:53 | |
(loading lyrics...) | |||
2. | Monastery | 03:56 | |
(loading lyrics...) | |||
3. | Relentless Infamy | 03:32 | |
(loading lyrics...) | |||
4. | The Demented God | 05:39 | |
(loading lyrics...) | |||
5. | My Wolf Legacy | 07:50 | |
(loading lyrics...) | |||
6. | Tale of the Navigator | 06:08 | |
(loading lyrics...) | |||
7. | Diabolical Kingdoms | 01:49 | |
(loading lyrics...) | |||
8. | Rebirth | 05:24 | |
(loading lyrics...) | |||
9. | Last World | 09:34 | |
(loading lyrics...) | |||
52:45 |
Band ascii art
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