(Here’s Round Two of Trollfiend’s head-to-head, no-holes-barred cage fight with Amorphis, and the blood is starting to flow in rivers. To catch up on what’s going on here, read this post.)
It is with heavy heart that I don my armoured codpiece today, knowing that the beast I face in the ring will rip off my head and shit down my neck. Still, none shall be satisfied until my blood stains the sands and my genitals are thrown to the crowd as a token of my defeat, so… onward to battle.
Ah…we open with an instrumental track. The arena master has called for lions; being thrown to starving lions is a gimme. I just have to run fast and hope I can get….Into Hiding.
Shit. It’s lions with bears strapped to their backs wielding axes made of flint and sodomy. I’m doomed! Doomed I say! Wait, what’s with the weird clean vocals? Ha ha! Once more I escape death!
Unfortunately the ass-fucking flint-axe lion-bears were just a distraction so I wouldn’t notice the next entrant into the ring: The Castaway. Metal-plated to the tits, it comes lumbering out of the gate to crush me flat with stomping boots of stompery.
As I lay in a puddle of my own innards, I am considering calling this one a loss after the first salvo. But the horrifying spectre of Ilud Divinum Insanus looms over me, threatening me with its nail-studded techno-cock, so I toss my large intestine jauntily over my shoulder and rise again to do battle.
I have escaped the First Doom. Unfortunately, once again, I had no idea what kind of Black Winter Day awaited me.
At first, I was lulled into a sense of complacency by the melodic strains of some kind of Casio keyboard set on “space flute” or something. And what’s this, more clean vocals? Ha ha, this one’s in the bag!
Alas, the only bag it’s in is the one housing my family jewels, and it’s in there with its steel-toed sword boot. Fuck, I’m down again. I have no more blood to spill, and my guts are so covered in sand they look like Tomi Joutsen’s dreads. What more could they possibly throw at me?
COME ON. YOU HAVE GOT TO BE FUCKING KIDDING ME. As if my injuries weren’t severe enough, you come to Finnish me off with A LITTLE GIRL??
That’s cold. Brutal, and cold. Seriously, you’ve got a guttural death-growl that sounds like you’re trying to hack up a yeti and you’re singing about being a little girl bathing at the seaside? Fuck me, I’m done. Four more tracks? I can’t take this punishment any more. I’m tapping out with my remaining hand. Enjoy my death, you fucking vultures.
Round 2: Amorphis 2, Trollfiend 0