4 ways to meet your gruesome end with Blood Harvest
Four ways you could die in the near future if the nefarious label has its way.
Not satisfied with merely releasing a slew of sick death metal demos, Blood Harvest have decided they need to go a step further. They straight-up want you to die. Yeah. I know. Seems like a step too far in terms of PR, but who knows what goes on in their sick minds. While I must say that Spear did his best to alert us to the what they were up to a while back, he himself did not quite seem to grasp the danger at hand. Let me do my best to illustrate what kinds of fate might be in store for you thanks to the insane-scientist-cum-necromancer-levels of deviousness displayed by Blood Harvest.
Obscene
You were warned, weren’t you? Plenty of times you were warned. “Don’t go to the clearing in the middle of the forest.” Alas, cool kid that you are, you had to see for yourself. There’s plenty of other spots where your parents wouldn’t have caught you smoking, you know. Yet here you are, and in the middle of the night, as well. Still wondering what the strange iridescent symbols on the ground might mean, you decide to see how far you can flick you cigarette butt. Your glee upon seeing that you made it all the way to the middle of the clearing is quickly replaced by worry as the ground starts to faintly rumble and the symbols glow brighter. Before you can even mumble “what the fuck”, the earth underneath the largest of the symbols tears open, and from it emerges a giant head, the expression on its face seemingly frozen in perpetual pain. The head is followed by a grotesque serpentine body that nimbly slithers from the ground, rearing towards the sky. As it reaches its full height, not just one but several leathery wings spread out from its body, blocking the moonlight that helped you find your way here in the first place. The inhuman shriek that the creature utters matches its sorrowful, tormented face, and when the eyes in that face fix on you, you finally decide that it’s time to run. You turn and start to make your way through the dense trees as best you can, swerving left and right, occasionally catching on a snag. The creature, foregoing any need to touch the ground, easily keeps up with you, weaving its hovering body through the trees, all the while uttering that ear-piercing shriek. It’s strange what thoughts pass through the mind at a time like this; you’re dimly aware that the screaming reminds you of Obituary if John Tardy was a lot more demented. The chuckle you utter at this absurdity turns into a scream as the creature’s maw snatches your body and starts to drag you back towards the clearing. Incapacitated by its venom, you are helpless as it pulls you down into the hole it came from. The earth closing above you the is the last thing you will ever see.
Mortiferum
You knew in your gut that it wasn’t a good idea to venture into this crypt. It seemed unlikely that you’d find anything valuable. But after an unsuccessful day of scavenging the surrounding ruins, you had to give this a shot. Now the heavy stone door you had pried ajar has closed behind you. Seems like it couldn’t have done that on its own. Hoping against better knowledge that you’ll find another exit, a fresh light source, perhaps a ray of sunshine filtering through some unlikely crack in the solid, heavy stone walls surrounding you, you press onward. You do your best to ignore the sense of dread that slowly spreads through you. The fact that your torch is slowly waning is not exactly helping. Neither is the fact that you seem to hear skittering noises in the darkness of the hallway in front of you, as if whatever is causing them stays just out of the decreasing radius of light around you. As the light of your torch dies, the noises grow louder, and with a pitiful whimper escaping your lips, the impact of a thin, wiry body knocks you to the ground. The body is soon joined by another. And another. Piling onto you, they proceed to tear your soft, weak flesh from your bones, but death is not swift; for all the ferocity of the initial attack, these fiends clearly like to take their time with their victims, enjoying the rare opportunity to feast on fresh meat… or perhaps enjoying your suffering. After their first appetite is satiated, your semi-conscious body is dragged deeper into their dwelling. As your half-open eyes slowly adjust to the darkness, you find yourself in an immense room where you can see dozens of the grey-skinned, hunched creatures, and you can hear what sounds like hundreds more. As the onlooking ghouls intone a primitive chant, your attackers mount you on the altar at the far end of the hall. Surrounded by the remains of your unlucky predecessors, you will be the food source for days to come before you are left to decay.
Cryptivore
What a steal! A four-bedroom house with a huge garden for a downright laughable price. Sure, the house is pretty decrepit, the garden is mostly overgrown with oddly resilient-looking weeds, and the grass looks anything but healthy, but you couldn’t say no to the deal. After a brief surveillance of the grounds, you happily shook hands with the odd-looking fellow who sold the place, thinking to yourself that you were making the bargain of a lifetime. Now you’re properly taking it all in for the first time, and as you make a round through the sprawling garden, you notice that the ground seems to sag in one particular spot. Not thinking too much of it, you walk on… until suddenly, your foot sinks right through what you thought was just another patch of strangely hued lawn. As you try to pull it back out, the earth gives way completely, and you start to fall. And continue to fall. For a long time. How is this possible? Your first frantic thought was that it must be a sinkhole. But you’re not plummeting through naked earth; there’s a round stone wall around the side of the opening. An old well, perhaps. It’s awfully deep and wide for a well, though. The air rushing past you is thundering in your ears. It’s taking on a decidedly foul smell that grows stronger by the second. A reddish light is slowly becoming more prominent, and now you realise that there’s not just a wall, but a spiral staircase running along it. How far down does this thing go? What could be its purpose? The light has become a vibrant crimson, and soon enough, its source becomes apparent. It’s coming from the bottom of the hole. Because the bottom is not earth or rock. It’s all purplish-red tissue, pulsating and secreting fluids. Horrific, distorted faces have taken the place of the stone wall. And in the middle, right underneath you, there is a gigantic, three-eyed face, eagerly opening its drooling mouth for you. At least your end is quick.
Ossuarium
Ah, traversing the cemetery at night. Perhaps the oldest, yet classiest of all dares for anyone with a bit of a morbid touch. And so, after another one of your horror movie binges, your friends extended this old school challenge to you. You might be a little old for silly stuff like this, but the movies were accompanied by a couple of beers, and the level of maturity in the room went down a fair bit. So you thought, why not. Nothing to it. In fact, you’re finding that it’s quite nice. The pleasant night with its almost unbroken quiet makes for a great backdrop to just let your thoughts wander. Maybe next time, you could bring someone along. Maybe that nice girl from the office. Then again, this is still- You snap out of your train of thought as you realise you’re not sure where you are, exactly. The cemetery isn’t small, but you had picked a pretty direct route. The place has also been around for about a century, yet this part of it looks way older than the rest. You definitely haven’t seen these weird crosses in any other spot. Crooked and covered in moss, they line the path underneath trees that seem unseasonably lifeless. You walk up to one of them and hold up your lighter to see the inscription. It simply says, “Ossuarium“. Who or what the heck is an ossuarium? You freeze in the motion of shaking your head as you hear a moan behind you. Turning around, you see a half-rotten corpse emerging from one of the graves. Obviously, your friends are playing some trick on you, but you have to give them credit for the practical effects. No movie you’ve seen has done it better, and the smell certainly is a nice touch. “Okay guys, you got me, well done,” you say, just as you notice faint motion in the shadows to either side. One zombie was impressive, but six of them seem quite a length to go to for a prank. But you don’t run. Running would be stupid. You’d be a laughing stock. You’d never hear the end of it. As the shambling shapes close in on you, you wonder how far this little gag will go. As one of them grabs your unresisting arm and sinks its teeth into it, you realise you should have run.
