Berserkers! Berserkers, it is time! From Ultima Thule, across the top of the world and toward St. Louis strides the mighty Satyricon! Oh, for the ravaging we are about to receive, most humble thanks are proffered to you, Satyr Wongraven! Dark Beast, Malevolent Prince, Hateful Majesty, we hail you! Your last recorded testament, the ichorous Volcano, still seethes within many a breast, carving bright trails of fury across blackened hearts as if it were an infernal star fallen from the heavens! And now you come to us, bringing the wanton spite that is your legacy to us in the flesh! Pop's shall be the spawning ground of a new demonic youth, born this night from the divine sparks that spew from your cursed maw! Baptise us in your venom! Reshape us in your image, so that we become the Army of Night, Satyricon's legions, servants to you and most noble Frost and...wait, what the fuck? Frost isn't coming with you? No shit? Visa troubles won't allow him in the country and instead you've got the drummer from Slipknot? Slipknot?! Aw, dude...OK. No, it's cool. It's still gonna be wicked-cool to hear one-half of Satyricon tear shit up. Yeah! Satyricon rocks! True Norwegian black metal! OK. Yeah. That Slipknot hump better be able to do the blast-beats like Frost, though.
Satyricon's Frost, upon hearing he won't be able to
make the gig at Pop's.
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