During a harsh Norwegian winter's night in a millenium long past, two peasants were
lamenting, over true Norwegian ale, about how their musical endeavors have failed. All
the musicians they have worked with in the past have proved too weak to devote
themselves to the task, and subsequently had to have their skulls crushed. This practice
seems barbaric and harsh for simply being a bad musician, but the skull powder makes
an excellent base for soup. That and untrueness is never to be tolerated.
After enough time had passed for the drinkers to attain a never before dreamed of level
of intoxication, an omnipresent voice was heard: "I am Creidhne, god of metal! Your
band has failed because your members were not true! You must leave home, and
journey in search of finding those who are true, grim, and necro if you wish to have a
band that is true Norwegian black metal." After the divine message, (or hallucination...
true Norwegian ale is some potent stuff), the guitarists John and Coy ventured out, almost
forgetting to leave their swords at home. They are not gay power metal fans after all,
(not that there's anything wrong with that) they are true, grim, and necro.
After many weeks of traveling through the fjords, their longboat fell victim to attacks of
flaming arrows. Barely escaping their flaming vessel, they were left stranded in a
mountainous region. They soon crossed paths with their attacker, a dwarf known as
Andrew the Skullsplitter. The dwarf had many weapons and was standing atop a pile of
slain bodies. Regretting the fact that they weren't gay power metal fans (not that there's
anything wrong with that) and thusly unarmed, they feared that their journey would come
to a violent end sooner than they planned. Luckily for them, they noticed the slain bodies
were wearing T-shirts that said incredibly blasphemous phrases on them, such as
"Slipknot" and "Hatebreed" and "I am a butt-slut... not that there's anything wrong with
that." In a desperate attempt to escape death, the travelers began playing "Death
Whispered a Lullaby," although one guitarist is less true because he didn't really care for
that one particular Opeth album. The violent dwarf halted in his charge, for he knew that
his victims were in fact true, and killing them would prove to be a vile mistake. Andrew
proved that he had rhythm by using the bones of the fallen as percussive instruments,
which was rather grim and necro in its own right. He was welcomed into the band, which
now finally had someone who wasn't a guitarist, and decided to devote his time to music
instead of carrying out his plans of assassinating the king of trolls known as Mortiis.
Having secured a drummer, they resumed journeying in hopes of completing the band.
Wandering through the dark Norwegian forest one day a lunar cycle later, founding
members John and Coy stumbled across a troll that had decided to play his bass after he
had finished feasting on the flesh of peasants in a nearby village. The troll was very grim
and necro, and was about to slay (I'm not a gay power metal fan... I'm allowed to use the
word slay... not that there's anything wrong with that. Being gay that is... being a power
metal fan is inexcusable and Jesus hates power metal fans) the two travelers but he
sensed that they were also true and necro, although their level of grimness needed to be
worked on. The troll decided that instead of killing the travelers, he would demand they
state their business. Hearing that they were in a band, he decided that instead of killing
them, he would join their band, in hopes that one day they would tour with Cradle of
Filth, where he could live out his dream of extracting whatever animal is caught in Dani
Filth's throat, preventing him from singing halfway decently.