After the Fire

Note: This story was inspired by the music and lyrics of “Killstardo Abominiate” by the band, Dethklok. 

Read the lyrics here:

Listen to the song (preferably at maximum tolerable volume) here:


After the blaze died down, Dole poked carefully through the embers of the fire with the polished end of his staff. He uncovered the Poterentur and carefully pushed it away from the hot embers using the brass end of the pole. He gingerly picked up the ceremonial stone, and as expected it was as cold as if it had never been in the fire. Dole peered at it closely, saw what he was looking for, and nodded. The acolytes gathered about him bowed their heads in unison and murmured the sacred words.

Dole turned away from the dying fire and his acolytes. Dole’s eyes looked around him. He stood atop a large hill, a hill that anyone who passed by would not remark upon. However, Dole had selected it after painstaking research and tests.  It’s slope and gradient formed the shape of the G’lah-har, a sacred ceremony the Master had taught him. At the top of the hill stood the altar. Dole scanned the altar for any flaws or omissions. He had been over this a 1000 times but did it again anyway. Now was not the time for mistakes. The tiniest detail missed, and all the Orders plans would be for naught. Dole examined the altar carefully. Dole saw at the altar’s base was a layer of dust and bone, much of it containing the remains of the slain enemies of Dole’s order during the war of the Mendaxes. Above that was a layer of a black, sticky viscous material. It shone mutely black in the amber light. Dole knew this material was gathered from the swamps of Mors Inges in a secret place that only he and the Master knew of. On top of that were piled large stones and rocks taken from deep within the mines of Alaxar. The next layer were the trunks of trees taken from the sacred forest of Be’Henah. Shorn of the branches and leaves, only the trunks remained, cut in equidistant lengths. They had been carved and shaped to reflect the instructions given to him by the Master. Dole knew that pride was a sin, but he still felt a bit of satisfaction at how well the tree trunks had been shaped. He quickly squelched the thought lest he let it take him. Lastly on top of the tree trunks stood the alter. A large rectangular slab of stone resting on top of 4 equidistant stone posts. Cut and shaped from polished marble, it glowed mutely in the eerie red light of the Blood Moon. For many years the order protected the alter from destruction and desecration by the non believers. Finally it’s purpose was to be fulfilled.

Dole looked at the woman now tied to this altar. She was naked, thin and just forming breasts. She was quite young, she had only just come into an age when she was beholden to a woman’s curse. Dole could see the curse was upon her now, as blood dripped slowly from her naked female parts. Dole remembered that she possessed the required hair color, a natural ginger, but now all of her hair from her head to her toes had been removed by Dole’s acolytes. Her pale skin and lack of hair made her look a bit like a worm, squirming weakly against the restraints that tied her hands above her head and held her legs down on the alter. Her legs had been spread at the proper angle as per the Master’s instructions. Her form honored the old ones, and paid fealty to their sacrifices for the masses. The acolytes had brewed somnolentus tea for the girl and Dole could see it had the desired effect. Her eyes were unfocused and glassy and her gaze was fixated far away on the stars in the sky. That was good. She needed to be calm for what was to come.

Satisfied with the condition of the altar, Dole raised the ceremonial stone, the Poterentur, and examined it in the moonlight. The heat from the ceremonial fire had burned away the chaf leaving just a smooth tubular surface. It was so black as to look almost purple. Dark streaks of ebony traveled down into the stones interior. Dole could see his pale face reflected on its surface. It looked like a white blob. Dole could feel the cold emanating from the Poterentur. Only after many years had the Master trusted enough to reveal the Poterentur and it’s role in the Ceremony, and how much power this small, black stone tube contained. It’s unassuming look masked many things.

It was time. Dole cast his mind back to when he first met the Master. At that moment, he had no idea how long the Master had been waiting for him. Dole remembered when he stumbled across the Master sunning himself on a rock in the Jeddey desert. Dole was not called Dole back then, back then he was just an idiot boy who had wondered off from his parent’s camp and gotten himself lost in the shifting sand dunes that made up the desert. He was near exhaustion and dehydrated when he came upon what was laying on that rock. At first his eyes did not perceive the Master properly, but when they focused on the dark visage, gaping maw and one large cat eye of the Master, the little urine Dole had left in his bladder leaked out.

“The Beast is no longer amongst us… The Beast is on his way to hell.” began the Master. The Master’s one eye turned to the boy Dole had been and held the young boy in his sway.

Much much later the Master told Dole what he needed of him. Dole remembered the terror he felt at the time as a man might remember an old wound that had healed long ago but still troubled him in the dead of night when sleep was hard to come by.

Returning his mind to the present, Dole turned to his acolytes and nodded. They bowed in unison to Dole, and made their way down the hill. At the bottom of the hill was a towering covered wagon. It stood over 15 stones high at its topmost point. Dole’s most trusted acolyte, Drendar, grabbed the handle of the covered wagon. The other acolytes gathered around the wagon, and leaning against it with their shoulders began to push it up the hill. The wagon creaked appreciatively and what sounded like metal against metal and a high pitch squealing emanated from the wagon. The lead acolyte place the wooden handle of the wagon on his shoulder and pulled. Slowly the wagon’s wheels turned and the wagon began to move up the hill. Grunting and straining, the acolytes finally pulled the wagon to the top of the hill, and left it next to the altar. From inside the wagon came the sounds of snuffling and grunting as if some creature was smelling the air and responding to all that it detected. The two acolytes at the head of the wagon began to pull back the fabric that covered the wagon’s frame.

Revealed in the wagon was a large metal cage, sealed with a brass padlock the size of a beefy man’s fist. Engraved upon the lock was a design that looked a bit like a shooting star. It secured a metal gate at the front of the cage. Revealed in the cage was the Pig Man, blinking stupidly in the dying firelight. To see the Pig Man was to understand why he was called that. The Pig Man had an oblong skull, with hairy, floppy ears protruding at right angles from his misshapen head, small beady black eyes set way back in his eye sockets, and most prominent of all, a short snout, meaty and fat, with two little oval port holes with which to snuffle the air and taste his meals. Anyone who saw it, did NOT call it a nose, it was clearly a snout. The Pig Man did not speak in any intelligible manner, just grunts, squeals and waving arms so no one knew how the Pig Man felt about his snout.  Presently, the Pig Man *was *snuffling the air curiously, and with growing awareness. He seemed to know of the girl strapped to the altar as he began to sniff the air with growing excitement and intensity. The Pig Man was wearing filthy denim overalls that had a broken strap on his right side. It was held up by crusted dirt and mud within the fabric itself. The denim fabric was worn away at the Pig Man’s crotch and presently Dole could see the reason the Pig Man had been bred and groomed for the task at hand. The Pig Man’s enormous penis began to harden and grow to its obscene size. Dole had heard stories of the Pig Man’s large pizzle long before he had seen it, and while the stories were exaggerated and ridiculous, Dole conceded that the Pig Man had a member larger than he had ever seen on any man, dog or horse. It grew impressively as the Pig Man realized what was about to happen. He hopped excitedly from foot to foot and gazed vaguely in the direction of the altar. Dole knew the Pig Man could barely see past his piggy snout nose, but while his nose was freakish looking, there was nothing wrong with how it worked. In fact, it worked disturbingly well and could sniff out a menstruating woman in a wide area. The Pig Man had gotten himself into quite a bit of trouble after some nasty business in a small village near the Trident river. He had kidnapped several farm girls and used his freakish cock on them to satisfy his beastly urges. It was unfortunate to say the minimum. That’s how Dole had come across the Pig Man. The specifics of how Dole and his order had acquired the Pig Man was not a tale Dole could reflect on now. The Pig Man was here and would fulfill his purpose, just as the Master had foretold.

Dole’s attention was snapped back to the Poterentur as he felt it throb in his hand. He recalled what he was there to do. Presently the acolytes had gathered around the altar with the woman strapped to it. Dole took his place at the head of the circle. He raised the Poterentur towards the blood moon. The acolytes began to murmur:




Dole began to speak the words the Master had taught him. He spoke them exactly as the Master had dictated, raising his voice in a rising sing-song, the words pouring from his lips like a slippery liquid onto hot desert sand. Dole began to speak louder, his voice taking on bass and power.

In response, the acolytes began to chant louder:




Dole began to move his arms in the anointed way the Master had shown him. The Poterentur throbbed in unison to every beat and flutter of Dole’s twisting hands. He finished the ritual and held the Poterentur towards the blood moon once again. Dole joined his acolytes in their chanting




Dole felt the Poterentur throb and twist in his palm. It no longer seemed to be a stone, but rather alive in his hand. It was a part of his hand now. He felt it bond to the palm of his hand. He felt as if the Poterentur had become a part of him, both physically and on the astral plane, it was an extension of his own body. It filled Dole with a feeling of power and excitement. He knew the prophecy was to be fulfilled. He just knew.

Dole raised his arms above his head and exhorted his acolytes to chant louder:




The Pig Man was profoundly affected by the chanting and the changes in the Poterentur. The Pig Man wrapped his filthy hands around the bars of his cage and began to moan. He rocked back and forth, a high pitched whining sound rising in his throat.




The Pig Man began to rattle the bars of the metal cage. He jumped up and down. He shook the cage in violence and fury, he slobbered and spit, and finally started howling toward the blood moon.

Dole and his acolytes continued their chanting.




After the 13th time of repetition, their voices rose in a thunderous crescendo:

We take you down!

We take your soul!

We eat your flesh!

We are your deth!

Dole looked at the Poterentur still fused to his hand. It was time. The Poterentur suddenly became less of a stone and more of a living thing. It now resembled a small snake, or wand twisting rhythmically in Dole’s hand. Dole held his hand out as the  Poterentur continued its rhythmic dancing on the palm of Dole’s hand. It began to twist around Dole’s wrist, down his arm, down the folds of his robe, over his sandals, and then started heading toward the Pig Man, who was still howling furiously in the metal cage. Dole watched the  Poterentur twist towards the Pig Man, now very much looking like a snake or a serpent. It slithered to where the Pig Man stood in the cage. The Pig Man saw the Poterentur approaching and stopped howling. He stared slack jawed as the Poterentur reached him. The Pig Man’s eyes widened in horror as the Poterentur slithered right up the wheels of the wagon, and between the bars of the cage. The Pig Man attempted to back away but the Poterentur twisted up his filthy feet, over his knobby knees, past his large sex, up his body and slithered right into the Pig Mans open mouth. Instantly the Pig Man went rigid, his eyes rolling back in his head. Dole could see the tail end of the Poterentur wriggling out of the Pig Man’s mouth. The Pig Man’s eyes rolled back to the world, but came back changed. No longer where they the flat, greedy flint of the Pig Man, these eyes shown with malevolent intelligence. Presently the Pig Man began to test his arms and legs, moving them stiffly and awkwardly. He turned toward Dole, and Dole could see the creature the Master described reflected back to him in the Pig Man’s now wise and knowing eyes.

Dole could see the Poterentur between the Pig Man’s teeth still writhing and twisting like a snake. The Pig Man looked down at his hands as if he were seeing them for the first time. He opened and closed his hands into large, meaty fists. He turned toward the door of the metal cage. Reaching through the bars, he touched the large lock on the door with a grace not previously seen in the Pig Man. As his finger stroked the shooting star emblem, smoke rose from where his finger touched the lock. There was a crackling sound and the brass lock fell to the ground smoking and hissing.

The cage gate squealed open. Walking stiffly, the Pig Man descended the stairs of the wagon and turned toward the altar. He inhaled deeply, seeming to pull the scents of the night air deep into his piggy snout. Blinking slowly the Pig Man looked around at the scene before him. His now malevolent eyes scanned the area and took in the ceremony taking place. The Pig Man clapped his hands in delight and began to jump up and down in joy. Without warning, the Pig Man dropped to his hands and feet and bounded quickly over to the girl on the altar. Once he reached the base, he scurried up to the top of it in mere moments, reminding Dole of a monkey climbing a tree. Panting excitedly the Pig Man reached the girl still tied to the altar. Placing himself between her spread legs he tore at the one remaining hook holding up his dirt encrusted overalls. He pulled his overalls down past his legs and stepped out of them gingerly, belying his grotesque and slovenly appearance. The Pig Man gazed upon the young girl greedily. Dole could again see the malevolence in the Pig Man’s eyes that he had glimpsed earlier. The Pig Man licked his skin flecked lips. Dole could see the wriggling end of the Poterentur flitting out of the Pig Man’s mouth. Dole also saw the Pig Man’s large penis throbbing as he pulled himself up between the girl’s pinned thighs. He placed his grimy hands upon either side of the girls shoulders. The Pig Man pushed himself forward and entered the girl with a grunt and a squeal. The girl’s eyes returned sharply from staring at the stars. Her eyes widened in horror and loathing as she saw the creature taking her maidenhead. She bucked and pulled against the restraints, her eyes now looking around wildly at Dole and the gathered acolytes. Dole stared back impassively and the acolytes never paused in their incantations.




The Pig Man continued pounding into the still struggling girl, saliva dripping from his open mouth. The girl’s eyes now looked up and away again into the starry sky but now they shone with pain, horror and revulsion. Each thrust forced a breath of frightened air from her mouth. Without warning he pulled out of the girl. Standing above the girl the Pig Man twisted himself around so that now his large member hung above the girls face. He now placed his hands on either side of the girls thighs. Using one hand to force the girls mouth open he shoved his large penis into the girls mouth. She gasped in surprise which only allowed the Pig Man to force his cock into her further. Dole watched her twist and buck in terror. Dole grimaced in spite of himself when he saw the girl’s eyes roll up back in her head in shock and her cheeks stretch, crack and begin to bleed. At the same time, the Pig Mans mouth pushed itself down onto the girls vagina, the end of the Poterentur wriggling to get into the girl itself. Dole watched as the Pig Man continued his twin actions pushing himself further into the girl’s throat while the Poterentur twisted into the girl’s labia.

Dole watched as the girl slowly stopped struggling and then mercifully was still. Still the Pig Man thrust his sex into her and the Poterentur continued probing her vulva. And then suddenly, it stopped.

Dole sucked in his breath. Everything froze, just for a moment. The acolytes stopped mid incantation, the fire stopped mid crackle, the crickets paused just for a moment. Then it crashed back into reality as if the world had just skipped a beat. There was even a half beat as the crickets seemed to catch up to reality.  Dole watched the girl lay impassively as she was assaulted at both of her openings. Dole suddenly realized he was seeing something more than a rape, it was a circuit, a circle that was now complete. A perverse circle, a deviance of the way man and woman were intended to lay together. It offended Dole and he had long since washed himself of such pointless emotions. It offended the world.

Dole watched as the Pig Man ended his thrusting and was still. Dole saw the still serpentine Poterentur wriggle out from the Pig Man’s mouth. It traveled down the altar twisting rapidly as it made its way quickly down the altar’s many layers. It slithered into the grass at the base of the altar. Dole never saw it again. The Pig Man lay still, motionless on top of the dead girl.

Dole heard a sound. A low note, almost felt rather than heard welled up from deep beneath the hill on which they stood. It ascended into the night air, a low thrumming bass note, that buzzed through Dole’s chest as much as he heard it in his ears. It rose up and began to be intertwined with a low rumbling from deep within the hillside on which the altar stood. Dole realized the earth on which the stood was shaking. The hill began to shake and rumble with growing urgency. Dole backed down the hillside, signalling to his acolytes to follow. They dutifully complied, casting worried glances behind them as small fissures opened at the hill top and the altar Dole’s order had built so many years ago, began to tilt and lean with a groaning sound. Both the Pig Man the young girl slid with the stone altar into an opening abyss below. The abyss slowly got bigger, revealing a sharp jagged black point rising slowly from the now opened fissure where the hill and altar once stood. The point began to reveal itself as an arrow shaped stone, rising slowly in the reddish moonlight. At the base of the stone stood another altar, but this time of black obsidian, shining ebony and cold, in the reddish moonlight.

On the altar lay the Beast. Much like when he first lay eyes on the Master, it took a moment for Dole’s brain to process what his eyes were seeing. It looked at first to Dole like a dragon, a mythical creature that once existed all across the skies many years ago according to the Master. But while the Beast had a long neck, large misshapen wings, a twisting serpentine body and spiny tail, the head was not of a dragon, but rather something different, vaguely human, but with large eyes with inverted pupils like a goat, and twin pointy ears protruding from its bulbous, misshapen head. Presently the Beast’s eyes turned toward Dole. The creatures eyes met Dole’s eyes and Dole felt the power of the Beast. Its narrow pupils looked intimately into Dole’s very soul, seeing all that he is and was, all that he had seen and experienced and felt, and knowing everything and everyone Dole knew. Dole felt himself swallowed up into those eyes, he saw and experienced things that even the Master had been unable to show him. Dole felt his soul float out of his body, he looked down and could see himself there at the base of the black altar with the Beast staring at him. The man he saw had aged twenty years in an instant. Dole could see the flabby neck, sunken cheeks, and most damning of all, hair that had been a sandy black now was bone white, stripped of all its color and vigor. Then the moment ended and he was back in his body, back to himself, but aged and withered. Dole gasped as the eyes of the Beast released him. Even though his youth was gone, Dole was elated. The Beast had shown him the future, a future of fire and pain for the non believers and infidels that infested the land. The Beast had shown Dole how he was instrumental in this, and acknowledged his role in bringing about all the creature had shown Dole in his vision. Dole felt tears of joy and relief spring from his eyes and travel down his wrinkled cheeks, dripping onto his velvet robe. He wept freely, but did not move to wipe his tears, nor hang his head in shame. The Beast’s gaze swept among the acolytes quickly acknowledging their presence, and sacrifice to the beast as it was revealed there among them.  The Beast turned its misshapen head toward the blood moon. It’s mouth opened and it’s throat trembled subtly. Once again, Dole heard a sound that built from deep within him and rose ominously in the night sky. Louder and louder it grew as the Beast’s head tipped back and the sound poured from its throat into the air, an obscene roaring that was an almost physical presence that Dole felt throughout his whole body. The ground shook with the sound. Dole felt his body tremble from the power of the sound. The roar affected him profoundly, Dole thought of rotting corpses, fire and flames, and felt despair, defeat, pain and despondency. He knew that all who heard the sound of the Beast would be affected in the same way. Abruptly the sound ceased, as the Beast closed its mouth. It’s black wings opened and raised above the beast’s body. The Beasts wings were black, veiney spines held webs of iridescent membranes. They opened to full spread, filled with air, and the Beast lifted itself into the moonlight. Dole watched as the Beast flew away into the night air, getting smaller and smaller as it flew away from the men.

…many, many years later Dole stood above the valley and watched the destruction unfold below. As the Master had prophesied, and the Beast had shown him, fire and destruction had finally come to the land. Dole clapped his hands in joy as he watched the villages burn below, and saw tiny figures of flame run from their huts and then collapse in immolation as they received the deserved punishment for their sins. Dole raised his scrawny fists above his head and shook them in fury and adulation. FUCK YOU! He bellowed into the night sky…..


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