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ProfPotts

Aberrant RPG - Astaroth

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Author's Notes:

Although I've tried to follow the style / themes presented in the ReignofEvil.com book - sex, violence, & Satanism aren't the sort of thing everyone wants to read about...

Astaroth closed his eyes & tilted his head back, breathing in the heady scents of sex, sweat, blood, & beer which permeated his Hall, whilst the pounding drum-beats, insanely fast guitar rifts, & screaming Satanic lyrics of Black Metal music echoed through his brain, & Freya sucked hard as her head bobbed up & down in his lap. Grabbing the girl’s implanted blonde hair roughly in one powerful, tattoo & ritual scar-covered hand he urged her to greater speed. Astaroth quite liked Freya – she wasn’t the Freya he really wanted, of course, that Nordlysene bitch that’d been so dismissive about his Church when asked by that reporter – but this Freya was close to his idea of perfection: body sculpted by excessive weight-training combined with cosmetic implants – breasts, lips, hair – to create that Boris Vallejo barbarian-princess look. Kneeling naked before him, tanned skin glistening with perspiration, wrists lashed together behind her back, giving her all in her worship of her dark god… yes he quite liked Freya. Of course, what he really wanted was to take her in his soul form – to feel her warm blood & entrails on his demonic flesh as she danced her death-throes, sacrificed on the alter of his lust: but that was a pleasure he was saving for a special occasion. For now he happily enjoyed her more mundane ministrations.

,,

Opening his eyes as Freya continued her enthusiastic stimulation Astaroth glanced around his domain, his Hall. Well, technically he admitted to himself, right now it was an old warehouse his huskarls had broken into earlier in the week – but it suited his purposes just fine: spiritually, it was his Hall. Seated on his throne of bones (well, it had real human skulls mounted on the arms anyway), flanked by two braziers (he didn’t really need the heat himself, but he liked the effect, & having a source of fire so he could play with his demonic powers) he looked out to see his followers enjoying themselves.

Astaroth considered himself a generous god, he made sure his devoted had everything they needed: drugs, alcohol, Black Metal music on tap, plenty of weights to work out with, & plenty of entertainment. He focused on some of that entertainment taking place across the room: several of his dæmons were taking turns hurling hand axes at a round wooden target – a target with a hole in the centre through which had been thrust the head of one of the women they’d kept from their raid on Thor’s hippies. The girl’s long hair had been fashioned into three braids, which were spread out & fastened to the target – the object of the ‘game’ was to sever the braids without hitting the girl. Astaroth couldn’t remember if he’d adapted the idea from genuine Viking practices, or from some old Hollywood film he’d seen as a kid – either way it didn’t matter, he liked it, & so did his followers. The girl was, delightfully enough, screaming the place down (although her protests & begging couldn’t be heard over the noise of the music) with tears streaming down her face. Head & neck locked securely into the target, wrists bound behind her, legs fastened apart she couldn’t do much more than scream & flinch in terror each time a drunken dæmon threw another axe. Even better, Astaroth thought, she was unable to resist the attentions of those huskarls behind her who were taking every advantage of her vulnerable & exposed position. Of course, Astaroth recalled, sometimes (depending on just how drunk & high his followers were) a poorly thrown axe would hit the girl – several had died, but then that was all part of the thrill. One had lost an ear & been sent on her way to peels of laughter… & then there was Hel…

Hel was one of Astaroth’s favorites: she’d been happy to party with his dark Church, indulging in all the free sex, drugs, & alcohol, but had been as reluctant as all the rest when they decided to try her at the game. The axe had hit her, destroying the left side of her face & her left eye as it imbedded in her skull, but somehow she’d lived. Someone had taken her to hospital, where her life was saved, but she’d refused to tell the police what had happened. Weeks later she’d ‘escaped’ & returned to Astaroth – that was the sort of loyalty he wanted from all his followers. With half her face scarred by the terrible wound, & the left half of her dark hair turned white, Astaroth had re-named her Hel after the half-corpse Norse goddess of death – again he couldn’t recall if he’d been influenced by mythology or fantasy comics, but Hel had seemed to like it, & had taken to her new role well: embracing the symbolism she’d subjected herself to a degree of ‘barking’ which had impressed even Astaroth – having the entire left side of her body flayed, all at once. She’d laughed & screamed in equal amounts as they did it. Of course, the establishment doctors would say she was brain-damaged by the axe-wound – Astaroth liked to think she was devoted.

With one half of her body now truly a ghastly mass of scar tissue, & the other still beautiful, Hel had become quite a feature in the Church of Astaroth: while Astaroth initiated all the females who entered his inner circle himself, he decided to make fucking Hel part of the initiation rites for the males. Those who couldn’t manage the act, disgusted by the girl’s appearance, would be beaten & cast out. Of course, those who did indulge were playing a sort of roulette – whatever the wound had done to her brain Hel could snap at any moment. For one initiate she would lie as still as a corpse, for another she’d be in a rage of passion like a cat on heat, but sometimes she’d just go totally nuts & try to kill the guy – clawing at his eyes & balls, biting & spitting. Astaroth found that the most amusing of all, & always looked forward to one of her little ‘episodes’ – so far she’d managed to kill two initiates, & cripple several more: when she was like that they had to really pin her down, or beat her, in order to complete their initiations: but those men Astaroth wanted as his loyal troops most of all – warriors willing to go all the way. Sometimes Astaroth would send Hel out to grant death to someone who’d pissed him off, sometimes he’d let her execute huskarls who’d failed him – she seemed to get the most pleasure out of those killings. The only thing which really disappointed Astaroth about Hel was her failure to erupt – she’d have made a beautiful Domitor.

‘Astaroth!’ the Domitor was stirred from his thoughts by the call of one of his dæmons, who ran up to his throne brandishing a laptop computer, ‘Astaroth,’ the man continued, trying to catch his breath as he opened the laptop (resting it without any thought on Freya’s bobbing head) in front of his dark god, ‘you’ve got to see this! I was watching this thing about those Nordlysene posers when this came on…’

Forcing Freya’s head still, ignoring the little choking noises she started to make, Astaroth watched the OpNet video clip – what did he care about destruction in Chad? Destruction was good… Unless that had something to do with the ReignofEvil OpNet site crashing earlier? Didn’t they host it out in one of those African counties? Still, why would this idiot bother him with… then he saw it: Thor… alive. When news of his disappearance after fighting Hannibal had spread Astaroth had taken the opportunity to lead his own worshippers against that poser Elite’s damned hippies… but if he was still alive… Astaroth was fairly certain that Thor wasn’t really the Norse god he claimed to be, but still… he was an Elite with a pretty impressive record, & would probably take the assault on his followers personally. This could mean trouble…

Standing up – sending the laptop tumbling to the ground & batting a spluttering Freya aside – Astaroth spoke to his devoted followers,

,,

‘Prepare for war!’ he declared, ‘For the gods are going to do battle!’

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