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Hellglow - MP (22) - Bursting Out (The Beast Became Human) (Vinyl, LP, Album)

03.10.2019

Sep 01,  · Discover releases, reviews, credits, songs, and more about MP - Bursting Out (The Beast Became Human) at Discogs. Complete your MP collection/5(24). View credits, reviews, tracks and shop for the CD release of Bursting Out (The Beast Became Human) on Discogs. Label: Steps Records (3) - • Format: CD Album, Unofficial Release • Country: Russia • Genre: Rock • Style: Speed Metal, Heavy Metal/5(3). Bursting Out Show lyrics (loading lyrics) 2. MP (Metal Priests) (loading lyrics) 3. Startide Rising (loading lyrics) 4. Pyromania (loading lyrics) 5. Out for Love Show lyrics (loading lyrics) Side B: 6. On the Loose Again (loading lyrics) 7. Fight For Your Life Show lyrics (loading.

The last twenty-four hours had been nothing more than a fuck-up of epic proportions, starting from the minute he'd glanced at the soapy dish water in the sink and caught a glimpse of the incoming demon and ending the moment he'd woken up on his sofa, a thawed bag of peas on his face, with no recollection of how he'd gotten there.

The lingering magic-hangover and physical soreness went far in granting him respite from all the questions floating through his head. How had he gotten home that morning? How had he managed to get his boots off? Why was his flat suddenly pristine, as if he was getting ready to sell it in a real estate showing? Merlin spent hours cleansing himself in case some thing had piggybacked its way into his home and through the wards. He'd fumigated the flat with sacred ashes and bloodstone incense, but had found nothing out of the ordinary in the clean-up.

Some one or some thing had made it past his wards undetected, had performed wanton acts of Good Samaritanism that left Merlin feeling dirty and uncomfortable, and had left without any indication or trace. If not for the knowledge that he had many enemies around the world, nerves wouldn't be so rattled. He'd actually prefer if his flat had been haunted by a demon from one of the lower planes.

The bouncer at the door of Kilgharrah's bar was a good foot taller than Merlin, easily twice as wide, and as unpleasant as they came. He made them wait a full minute before pulling a card out of his pocket and making a show of glancing at it. The bouncer flashed the card at Mordred, showing a crude drawing of a naked woman fucking herself on a dildo before flicking it into a nearby rubbish bin.

He stepped aside to let Mordred through, pulled out a second card, and held it up for Merlin. The bouncer was new and must not have been warned about Merlin if Merlin was being screened for magic before being allowed through.

Merlin moved forward, only to be stopped by a heavy hand on his shoulder. Merlin stared down at the hand for several long moments before following it back to the bouncer's dead black eyes. His voice dropped in pitch. The bouncer dropped the card with a startled grunt, shaking out his burned fingers. The fire spread to the other password cards in the rubbish bin, filling the little alcove with blue-grey smoke. The bouncer turned away to grab the fire extinguisher stashed just inside the doorway.

Angry is such a sexy look on you," Mordred said, smirking. The music was too loud to waste breath on a rejoinder, but Mordred apparently didn't think so. He leaned in, nudging Merlin's ribs, and leered. Curly brown hair framing a cherubic face. Long eyelashes and eyes the colour of Venus crystals.

Pouty lips perpetually swollen, as if he had no other pastime beyond sucking cock or licking cunt. For Mordred, the pleasures of the flesh wasn't a hobby. It was a hunting tactic to keep him fed. He wasn't Up for a fuck. He was Always up for a fuck. Merlin might not have gotten laid in years, but he wasn't so far gone that he'd sleep with an incubuseven one he considered an acquaintance, however dubiously. Merlin had seen the aftermath of an incubus' feeding.

The victims were corpses afterward -- desiccated husks, sunken eyes, bones sticking out through the skin. Survivors often never recovered, spending their lives fighting, or giving in to some sort of sex addiction.

As a sorcerer, Merlin had natural immunity to the side effects of a sex demon's power, but that didn't mean he wanted to stick his dick in Mordred's arse. What he wanted -- what he craved -- involved a permanency, intimacy and stability that he couldn't possibly have, not with the way he lived his life. Mordred knew that, too. He licked the air as if savouring Merlin's low-grade sexual frustration, his mouth stretching in a wide smirk.

He tilted his head in easy acquiescence and let himself be swallowed into the crowd in search for willing prey. Freya slammed a long-neck of local microbrew in front of Merlin, clawed fingers grabbing his wrist before he could reach for it. Nice to see you too. It's been too long. How's your new flatmate working out? He raised it in greeting, took a sip, and grimaced.

The brew was on the bitter side, too many hops overwhelming chocolate and cherry overtones, and the aftertaste put Merlin in search for the nearest bowl of stale peanuts and pretzels. Her hold on Merlin's arm tightened. Go home. Merlin gestured with the beer bottle toward the entrance of the bar and drank it quickly, hoping to wash away the lingering slime on his tongue. Nothing, absolutely nothing good comes when Kilgharrah wants to talk to you.

Not for you, anyway," Freya said, squeezing hard enough to leave a bruise before letting him go. She picked up a stained towel and wiped down the bar with more aggression than necessary.

He rubbed the back of his neck and didn't react when Freya scratched through his hair. Merlin snorted. That was the understatement of the year. He was never up for whatever Kilgharrah had in mind, but at the same time, it bothered him that Freya would doubt his ability to deal with LP. I've handled --". Go home," Freya said firmly. She took the unfinished beer out of his hand. Merlin leaned back, scratching the side of his neck. He studied the crease in Freya's brow, the tight set of her mouth, the flicker of green-and-yellow in her eyes.

The anxiety was easy enough to spot. He stood up, hating the relief that crept into her expression, because he knew he was going to disappoint her in a few minutes. She tilted her head into his palm when he touched her cheek in apology. Merlin walked away from the bar and toward the rear. The door to Kilgharrah's office opened for him -- a courtesy that the old Dragon had never offered him before. Merlin hesitated, because the gesture could mean that Kilgharrah wanted a favour from him, or because A short burst of energy, like a light switch flicking on and off, jerked him to a stop.

Jerked everyone to a stop. In mid-sip. Power, LP, pure and unadulterated, like magical manna dropping from Heaven flooded the club in a tsunami wave.

Merlin felt like he'd taken one hit too many of peyote while inhaling distillate of hallucinogenic toads. The ground shook. It jerked and jarred. The music turned to static. The flip-hiccup of a record scratch, the crumble of tape tearing through the rollers. The screech of an FM broadcast gone wrong. Lights flickered. Bottles rattled. Several fragile glasses vibrated off the edge of patron tables and crashed on the dance floors.

A tall brunette with ebony skin and green-in-black eyes released a high-pitched siren's scream of terror. Freya's claws came out and she gouged the bar before she lost balance and was thrown to the ground. Mordred remained on a scattered dance floor, his eyes burning lavender as he expended power to keep himself upright like the graceful bastard that he was. The door to Kilgharrah's cavern drifted shut, but slowly, as if an invisible hand pushed against a resisting force.

The door clicked shut ominously And the world stopped shaking. The rush of power dissipated. The magically-inclined patrons in the club sat down warily, straightening upturned bottles and drinks, bowing their heads and avoiding eye contact.

As a child, Arthur was doted upon by a steady stream of devout and devoted nannies who never stayed long enough for an attachment to form. Sometimes, those nannies left of their own accord, shaken to their core by Arthur's blatant use of power whenever he didn't get his own way. Uther hired tutors to teach Arthur control so that he wouldn't scare his nannies anymore, but even those shied from him. But not Catriona. Catriona had used psychological manipulation and hypnotism to control him, but when they failed, she resorted to physical punishment.

It was laughable that anyone would believe petty human tricks sufficient to control someone with Arthur's lineage, but it had worked for years until Arthur broke each and every chain holding him back. Starting with Catriona. No one could prove Arthur had forcibly drowned her. He'd been quietly doing his homework in his room, and not watching her as she flailed helplessly in the pool. As far as Uther was aware, Arthur was still very much susceptible to suggestion and would obey the keyword triggers exactly as he had been trained to do.

As if he were nothing but a dog bred for one and only one purpose -- to serve its master. In public, Arthur might play the role of an obedient puppy, but he had no master.

Catriona's mind-fuckery might have forced a too-young Arthur to impose self-discipline and control above and beyond what any other child that age would ever need, but it was Arthur alone who possessed control of himself.

Not some two-bit hack psychologist with a boorish manner and a gross, troll-like personality. Not the nannies who showered him with mocking praise and false affection in the hopes of creating an unbreakable connection with him for the favour they would gain from him in the future.

And certainly not Uther, who had stared down the long dinner table and asked whether Arthur would be " staying in that night. What else would I do? The disdain and disapproval Uther had toward Leon was in large part because Leon's mother was an overworked waitress at a run-down diner on the outskirts of town, knocked up at fifteen by a drifter who'd been passing through.

Leon had three strikes against him -- his mother was uneducated, his mother was not a believer, and Leon was a no-good punk with no ambitions and no prospects. Arthur always wondered how furious Uther would be if he discovered that the no-good punk was a nephilim helping Arthur undermine Uther's entire empire. He's certainly keen to suck my cock," Arthur had said. He'd pushed away from the dinner table and stood up to take advantage of Uther's splutter.

Arthur's iron control was the only reason Uther wasn't a stain on a wall somewhere. But it was that same unyielding discipline that made it very difficult to enact the next step in Arthur's plans. Arthur grimaced as he rose to his feet on shaky legs. He savoured the iron taste of his own blood in his mouth. His hand was wet where it was pressed to his side where he'd collided with the sharp edge of a rubbish bin, rust and metal cutting through shirt and skin.

Arthur's eyes narrowed at the defiance. A furrow of displeasure pinched his brow. Leon paled and swallowed hard, and he hastily dropped his arm.

He stepped back and looked away. So fixed was Arthur's attention on Leon that he wasn't prepared for Percival's blow. He was knocked to the ground, blacking out. It couldn't have been for more than a few seconds, but he could manage a great deal of self-defensive destruction in a few seconds.

His vision bled red when he opened his eyes. The pavement cracked and split open as the earth shook. Percival flew through the air as if struck, crashing into a large pile of debris and refuse. Leon was driven to his knees, shuddering and quailing. Nowit was enough. Merlin would have sensed the disruption.

He wouldn't be able to help himself. He would come to investigate. Arthur reined in his power. Just enough that it didn't try to bring the buildings down around them. Just enough that his men would be able to get up and leave. They had their orders. People to find. False rumours to spread.

Evidence to plant. Percival struggled to get out of the rubbish, a disgruntled frown on his brow as he brushed a rotting banana peel from his shoulder and kicked an empty coffee container out of his way.

Leon approached Arthur, but he froze as if slapped at Arthur's nearly soundless, " Go. His bow of obeisance was curt and unsure. He gestured rudely at Percival to follow.

They spared a minute to ensure they didn't leave anything of themselves behind, drawing their essence away. The traces that remained would be enough to push Merlin in the right direction. Arthur watched them go. He grunted as his body fought to heal him. He allowed nothing, because his wounds needed to match the blood on his clothes. If they didn't, Merlin would be suspicious, and Arthur would lose him before he had him.

He waited, consciousness skirting in and out in a teasing dance. Random surges of adrenaline kept him awake in exquisite awareness of the danger he was in from his enemies and the vulnerability of his continued survival. Trust wasn't an action or an emotion that he was capable of, and yet, here he was, trusting that Merlin would come. The instinctive, uncontrolled burst of power would be enough to attract Merlin -- but it would also attract others.

Arthur's enemies, curious looky-loos, scavenging sorcerers, even the perfectly normal homeless person who only wanted better shoes, warmer clothes, and a few pounds. Arthur might appear terribly injured, but he could defend himself if someone who wasn't Merlin arrived. There was no guarantee that Merlin would actually help. He was known for being a callous bastard and ignoring his friends in their times of need. There were stories where Merlin had walked over the smoking corpse of his closest colleague to pursue his enemy instead, leaving the body for the animals -- though Arthur didn't believe them.

At the moment, Arthur was nothing more than a complete stranger to Merlin. Merlin would have absolutely no motivation to do much more than to drop Arthur off at the nearest hospital. Arthur's only hope was that Merlin was reeling from how someone had saved him and that he would be motivated to pass it on. Arthur closed his eyes. He listened to the sounds of rats foraging in the nearby rubbish bin. The birds cawing and fluttering their wings up on the rooftops.

Cats meowing, hissing, snarling from somewhere deeper into the alley. Further off, he heard diffuse chatter of pedestrians walking by, words drowned out by the rumbling sound of car engines in need of a tune-up, tyres screeching on the pavement. And then: footsteps. They fell at the same steady beat of a racing heartbeat and were chased by the flutter of fabric and the slap of leather against thigh. The footsteps skidded to a stop.

Panting sounds were silenced as the arrival held their breath and…. A low, guttural phrase that was more in keeping with a hobbyist witch than a sorcerer of Merlin's sheer power jarred the alley with a thunder snap of energy that couldn't originate from anyone but Album). Arthur held back a huff of displeasure to learn that Merlin had resorted to suppressing his natural magic and cracked his eyes open.

A blanket of magic saturated the alley with a vindictive violence that was strangely soothing, even reassuring. The alley was bright with falling stars, blue-white lines perpendicular to the architecture and doubled semi-circles filled with cryptic symbols that weren't recognizable, not even upside down. As Arthur watched, the magic attacked the remnants of the angelic essence left behind by the nephilim.

Pale bright white blue turned bloody red, dark and dire, full of promise of complete destruction. The red spread, taking over the blue lines. The alley filled with a dark, dreary glow, heavy and foreboding.

The world stuttered, jerking into position even as it was wrenched out of itself, righting the magic saturating the area. Arthur was no magic user. He possessed working knowledge of basic rites and rituals only as a preventive measure for his own continued survival. His power was fed from a different source and followed an entirely different set of esoteric rules. But he knew Merlin.

It was easy enough to deduce what Merlin was doing and what he was about to do. Merlin was going to step over Arthur's fallen body and pursue his enemy with the icy-cold single-mindedness that he was known for. Arthur could not, absolutely could not allow Merlin to wildly run off as if he were an avenging caped crusader. Arthur groaned again, more theatrical this time. He rolled onto his side. The gasp of pain from the line of bruises on his ribs and the dull ache in his kidneys was very, very real.

The red bled out of the air, fading into the darkness. Footsteps approached with slow caution, and a presence crouched down next to Arthur. In the headlight flare of a passing car, Arthur saw Merlin's drawn face, pale and bruised despite his magic having risen up to heal him that morning. His hair was flat on one side, spiky-curly in the other in a modern fashion better known as Didn't botherand his brows were pinched in confusion.

He seemed to sink into himself, moving from going to a crouch to leaning on his side. He brushed fingers across his forehead, fingertips trailing along a lingering scrape along his jaw. Arthur followed the movement with thin-slit eyes, and wondered what it would be like to feel Merlin's fingers on his skin.

With a heavy sigh, Merlin snapped to himself and ran his hands lightly over Arthur's body, checking for injuries. The contact was fleeting, LP Arthur mourned that he wasn't in any condition to enjoy it. Arthur didn't answer right away. He turned onto his good side, pushing himself into a sitting position.

Merlin helped him to his feet. Arthur wavered, and was satisfied when Merlin wrapped an arm around his waist to support him. City services efficiency analysis reports claimed responder time as nearly twenty to thirty minutes in the back roads of Camden.

If Arthur hadn't been blessed with the ability to control his body, to cure himself from the worst of the damage, he would have lain in the alley and died before the ambulance came, if anyone noticed him in the first place and cared enough to call for one. Merlin swore.

He pulled Arthur's arm over his shoulders and guided him to the mouth of the alley. There weren't many pedestrians on the street at this time of night, but those who passed by either ignored them or stared at Arthur with predatory hunger. There'll be a few by the club. Arthur didn't speak, too preoccupied with the pain shooting through his body at every movement.

If this was how the average human suffered on a daily basis, he wanted none of it. The temptation to heal himself was more difficult to ignore as Merlin dragged him across the street, but he reminded himself that he was the son of the Morningstar.

If anyone should be able to resist temptation, it would be him. He was barely aware of being manhandled into the back of a cab, but he snapped to himself, preternaturally aware, when Merlin shut the passenger door and walked to the front to talk to the driver. No, Merlin wasn't going to leave him. No, Merlin was not going to chase down the planted trail until Arthur Hellglow - MP (22) - Bursting Out (The Beast Became Human) (Vinyl ready to set the next stage of his plans in motion.

No, this wouldn't do. Merlin's heavy sigh preceded a tired rub of his face. He dropped his hand. Arthur couldn't see clearly through the fingerprint-smeared Plexiglas separator, but he thought Merlin was arguing with himself just under his breath.

You need the experts to see you're not hurt worse than you look. Merlin spread his hands in entreaty, but Arthur shook his head, gritting his teeth when his head rang like hammers on a bell.

Arthur snapped, "Don't be an idiot. They'll find me there. He glanced to the open mouth of the alley before slowly turning to look at the other end, eyes flinty cold as if he expected the enemy to attack.

Tension filled the air, and it took a moment for Arthur to realize that it came from Merlin. Arthur would have laughed with glee to know that Merlin had a dark streak as wide as his own, because whom else would take the opportunity to use a poor, injured fellow as bait?

That, however, wasn't the goal of this evening's show. Arthur knocked the Plexiglas with a bloody finger and gave the address to one of his more secure flats in the city.

It was much easier to breathe that way. He wondered if Percival had broken a rib. I'm done with tonight. The front passenger door cracked open and he slid in. There was an exchange of glances with the driver, and Merlin said, "Didn't you hear him? He shouldn't have gotten into the cab. He should have dropped Arthur bloody Pendragon off with the doorman. There had been no need to carry Arthur through the posh glass doors, into the elevator that rode directly to the top, and over the threshold of a penthouse that likely cost more than Merlin's lifetime net worth.

And yet, here he was, in the master en-suite bathroom, swatting the prat's hands away before he mucked up the dressings that Merlin had already put on. I can walk out. I'm going to walk out," Merlin threatened, getting up. He tossed the antiseptic and the gauze into the sink. He wiped his hands on a towel, flung it in the sink, and started for the door.

Arthur's mouth clamped shut, his eyes downcast in a slump of apology, and the change in attitude brought Merlin to a stop. The heir to the Pendragon fortune didn't strike Merlin as the type to capitulate so easily. With a sigh, Merlin reached for a new piece of gauze and surgical tape. He knelt next to Arthur again. He placed the last piece with deliberate detachment, not allowing either his touch or his eyes to wander. It was too late for that, he knew.

Mordred had put the idea in Merlin's head earlier that evening. The blunt reminder that he hadn't had any kind of companionship in some time was easier to ignore when there weren't any prospective candidates on the horizon. His libido didn't seem to care that he was single by choice and circumstance when he was this close to a handsome, young, shirtless man.

Arthur had a body that deserved more than a casual grope and a lecherous once-over. Merlin swallowed hard and pulled his hands away. Arthur was young. Merlin didn't know how young Arthur was, but his best guess was somewhere in his mid-to-late teens.

Merlin stood up abruptly. You're all right. Merlin glanced up, trying to read him, but Arthur shifted away. He thought about glancing at Arthur's aura, but that was considered rude in magical circles, and more so when the other person didn't know about magic.

Merlin wasn't that much of a pillock. Still, as long as Arthur's back was turned, Merlin allowed himself to look. At the broad shoulders, the tapered waist, the solid muscle under smooth skin. Arthur's arse defied definition, though perfection was likely an acceptable descriptive, and Arthur turned around. A smirk curled at the corner of his mouth when Merlin's gaze snapped up.

Merlin grunted and shoved the bandage debris from the sink and into the bin. When he ran out of things to fuss over, he closed his eyes and scratched the back of his head. Arthur watched him out of the corner of his eye, blue bright against golden lashes, hair in disarray. He shook out a jumper, but paused to put it on, waiting for Merlin to answer.

The little, self-satisfied smile, the quick invitation, the flirtatious look. Merlin had a fairly good idea of where this was going, and…. I might have a concussion," Arthur said, his tone light.

Merlin thought he saw Arthur shrug a shoulder before gingerly pulling the jumper over his head, but he wasn't sure, too distracted by the glimpse of a muscular chest to think clearly. Isn't that what they say to do? What time is it in Australia?

He made a show of glancing at his wrist, the unexpectedly understated Tag Hauer watch catching the overhead lights. Somehow, Merlin thought a Pendragon would go for the ostentatious -- a flashy Rolex, maybe a bejewelled Cartier. Still, the Tag Hauer watch was expensive enough that if the attack in the alley had been a mere mugging, it would have been long gone.

In any case, it doesn't matter. He's never been the nurturing sort. Arthur raised his chin, pursing his lips in consideration. Merlin couldn't decide if Arthur was joking or not. He didn't have any siblings and his mother had passed a long time ago; there had never been any sign of his father. Familial relationships were something alien to him, but he at least knew that sometimes, relatives had difficult relationships.

The topic of Arthur's sister seemed to be a sensitive one, so he dropped it. He leaned over the bathroom sink, getting closer to the mirror to inspect the bruise along his jaw. It was turning an interesting shade of purple. They'd never let me get anywhere near that area otherwise.

You've got the money for it. Arthur didn't move away from the mirror, glancing at Merlin in the reflection. He rolled his eyes. You saved my life. I'm trying to thank you. He gave Merlin a wry grin. His voice softened. Order take away. Get to know each other. Merlin hesitated. He should leave. He had already stayed too long. The more time passed, the more the trace of angelic essence would fade from the alley, making it too difficult to track down. There were supernatural creatures out there preying on innocent humans, on a rich, entitled, stupid teenager who had been in the wrong place at the wrong time, and Merlin couldn't let them get away with it.

They might kill someone. They'd nearly killed Arthur. There was an earnest, open look in Arthur's eyes. An invitation in the way he leaned against the bathroom counter, hip canted, shoulders back. He could only imagine why someone like Arthur needed to ditch the bodyguards to come to Camden.

Why a handsome boy would go to Camden at all. But then For a moment, Merlin couldn't see the injuries. His eyes traced the solid curve of muscle, the broad line of his shoulders, the tuff of light blond hair in a soft line leading to the waistband of tailored trousers. Merlin shook his head and walked out of the bathroom. He lingered in front of the ceiling-to-floor window with the scintillating view of the Thames reflecting the city lights at night. Imagination easily placed a naked Arthur in the middle of the King-sized bed, the plush grey-blue comforter down around his hips, pillows sprawled to one side or shoved to the floor.

Arthur followed him out of the bathroom, leaning against the doorframe. The steady, measuring gaze chased Merlin out and down the stairs of the loft penthouse.

He snatched his coat from where he'd thrown it over the back of a kitchen chair, and headed toward the door. Merlin spared him a quick glance. Arthur descended the staircase with the unhurried glide of a predator fixed on his prey, all sign of amusement gone.

Merlin growled to himself -- Get your fucking priorities straight -- and reached for the doorknob. Because I'm a Pendragon? His tone took on a hard, annoyed edge. Merlin clenched his jaw. It wasn't his job to hunt down rogue angels and punish them for their transgressions, but no one else would do it. He had to go. Lusting after someone who was easily ten years -- or more -- younger than he was?

He needed to focus, and his attention had to be somewhere other than in his pants or in Arthur's. He turned the doorknob and opened it wide. Set your alarm. Call a nursing service.

Arthur's voice was suddenly very soft, vulnerable. When Merlin looked back, Arthur was wavering, his legs unsteady, and he hung onto the decorative bannister with a white-knuckled grip.

Instinct pushed Merlin to shut the door, to catch Arthur before he fell, to make sure that he would be all right for the rest of the night, in case he had a concussion or worse, and needed a hospital. Instead, he stepped through the doorway and warned, "Forget you ever met me.

Don't go to Camden again. The man behind the security desk in the lobby of the apartment building gave Merlin a flinty look as he walked off the elevator. Merlin didn't stay for pleasantries, striding across the polished stone floor and through the glass doors, confident that the small charm stitched into his coat would keep his face from being recorded on video. Whatever suspicions were going through the security guard's head, Merlin hoped that at least one of them would drive him to call Arthur's security.

No cabs were in sight, and short of a playboy or cougar returning home in the wee hours of the night, the odds were slim that Merlin would be able to flag one down unless he made his way to the busier corners in the area.

He fished a cigarette from a crumpled pack in his pocket, lit it with a match that flared bright blue when struck, and blew out a trail of smoke. A light drizzle fell, flattening it down. Handsome, well-connected, rich. He was also more trouble than necessary and an indulgence that Merlin couldn't afford.

Best to put all thoughts of Arthur out of his head. Merlin had other things to focus on. The recent rise in supernatural activity. How he'd managed to drag his corpse home that morning. The housekeeper he seemed to have acquired along the way and who had best not ask for a salary, because Merlin could barely keep himself fed some days.

Whatever it was that Kilgharrah wanted to talk to Merlin about. The bug that had crawled up Freya's arse. The angels who had attacked a random, innocent Londoner for what amounted to nothing more than a roughing up. Merlin slowed down and came to a stop at the intersection. There was no traffic, but he stayed where he was, frozen with the realization that he'd skipped over something important.

The pulse of power. He'd forgotten that. He wouldn't have known that a complete stranger was being attacked by angels a block and a half over if he hadn't been drawn there in the first place. Power had drawn him there. He'd never felt anything like it before, but where had it come from? Not the angels, that was for sure. Angels didn't have that kind of power. The sheer abundance of it was so far above their pay grade that an angel would weep to be in its presence. It wasn't natural magic, either; that had a different taste altogether.

And no sorcerers rated that much without burning themselves out. Merlin had never met anyone who matched him in sheer strength. So Merlin's brow furrowed. He turned on his heel and looked back the way he came, but again, he didn't move. There were more questions than answers. Who Arthur, obviously. Demons were more likely to attack the unsuspecting who took shortcuts through a back alley to reach their destination.

Angels were far too high-brow to stoop to such low measures. Merlin knew with certainty that there had been angels in the alley, but they wouldn't push up their sleeves and get their hands dirty, not like this. And even then, someone with that much sheer strength wouldn't be easy for the angels to subdue.

Not unless they were ambushed, and even then, there would have been more of a fight. Merlin wouldn't have found Arthur drifting in and out of consciousness in between rubbish bins.

The only plausible explanation was that Arthur didn't know about his own power and that he'd never been trained in its use. A flicker of shadow distracted Merlin from his thoughts.

The shadow was roughly human-shaped and hiding at least half a block away, the darkness between two streetlights providing additional cover. Merlin took a long pull of his cigarette, flicked away the nub, and blew the smoke from his lungs in a long, drawn-out exhalation.

He continued on his way, meandering along at the same speed. A flick of the collar stopped the drizzling rain from dripping down the back of his neck. He shoved his hands deep in his coat pockets helped retain what little body heat the wet wind hadn't already dampened, and behind him, someone splashed in a puddle, clearly intent on catching up.

Andrew's cross. A sliver of gallows' wood. Preserved salamander skin that was warm to the touch. The round medallion of St Joseph, patron saint of travellers.

A bent penny. The sharp edge of the Star of Bethlehem. Merlin's pockets were always stuffed full of minor charms, enchanted objects, and natural wards against evil. On earth, there were few objects capable of smiting the hosts of Heaven and Hell, but Merlin had made it his business to know everything that could bring those arrogant sons of bitches to their knees.

Once upon a time, he'd even been proficient at it. The latest rumours surrounding Merlin might imply that he was burnt-out and washed-up. That he didn't have any magic to speak of and wasn't a danger to anyone anymore. The rumour was that any two-bit schmuck capable of igniting a mage-light could sneak up on him and take him out. The footsteps behind him stuttered at having been caught out, but after a moment, continued to approach. You knew who I was as soon as I left the building.

Right now, you're doing the math. Calculating the odds. You're trying to decide if the bounty on my head is worth it. Merlin crossed another intersection. One more block past this one, a slow but steady trickle of traffic streamed through.

There were even a few cabs. It's not worth it, not for you," Merlin said, slowing down. He didn't want to bring any confrontation where innocents could get hurt, and he didn't want to give his stalker any ammunition to use against him. But if you want to try… Be my guest. The nephilim was tall, slim, and fit, as were most of his kind.

The half-angel froze in mid-stride, his eyes wide and open, his shoulders down and stooped, as if he were trying to make himself Album), very small. He stood straighter under Merlin's scrutiny, his human eyes bleeding into demonic black, and a shimmer of insubstantial angel wings glittered in the night air. Call your friends. Tell them what I said. Make sure they understand. Oh -- and while you're at it, let them know what you want on your tombstone.

Arthur checked his tie in the bathroom mirror. He leaned in and rubbed at the flaking skin along his jaw where the scrape from Percival's punch had healed.

With one last tousle of his hair and another glance to make certain he was presentable, Arthur went to the bedroom, pulling his suit coat from the hanger. He spared a few seconds to appreciate the view. The penthouse loft overlooked the Thames, but the river didn't hold his interest on this particular morning.

He scanned past the dark clouds and dour cityscape until he spotted what he was looking for. The suite was too high up and the angle was wrong, but there was no missing the searing black ash from a white-hot light burned into the side of a tall brick building.

That same scorch had continued on into an arc that had melted the mirrored glass of an art nouveau business complex next to it. It appeared that the building management had found a crew willing and able to repair and replace the panels on such short notice. Arthur rather liked being able to see evidence of Merlin's declaration. It would be such a shame when it was gone. Ducked out of sight before anyone caught me," Leon had said, laughing with a mixture of fearful disbelief and righteous indignation.

All had been quiet on the enemy front since Merlin's threat. Whether Merlin had meant to announce his alliance or not -- whether he was aware of having taken sides -- no one could miss that Merlin's loyalties were with Arthur. Leon's spies confirmed that Morgana was regrouping and reassessing. She must have anticipated Arthur would recruit a sorcerer to his side, but she must not have expected someone of Merlin's disreputable history.

She must have laughed when she heard, but Merlin's clear display of power meant that Morgana now knew how badly she had misjudged Arthur. He turned off the telly, plucked his cell phone from the kitchen charger, and inspected himself in the reflection on the kettle, counting down. The buzzer rang again, and Arthur knew it was Thompson again, checking up on him. He didn't bother answering. When he emerged from the elevator, it was to hear Thompson announce, "Oh, never mind, sir.

Here he is now. Yes, sir. I'll pass on the message. Arthur nodded cordially to the doorman, who rushed past Arthur to open the rear door of a black sedan.

Arthur slipped him twenty pounds to distract Thompson. Higgs was an unshakeably agnostic young man whose only goal in life was to achieve glory in the mixed martial arts ring. It was a goal Arthur quietly encouraged in exchange for assistance in situations such as these. Thompson backed off immediately when Higgs blocked the way, giving Arthur a chance to settle in the back seat.

Gwaine draped an arm along the open partition and pointed at Thompson. Shall we see the sights? He pulled into traffic without another word, leaving the partition down. Uther would be scandalized to learn that Arthur fraternized with an uneducated driverbut Arthur was certain his father would have a coronary to realize just how many people around Arthur were not actually working for Uther -- and that they weren't actually human. Arthur sighed. Uther was, at present, an unfortunate necessity, but not one that Arthur would have to bear for long.

Arthur's original plans were to cut the strings in a few years, when he was old enough to satisfy the members of the board and Uther's congregation that he was more than qualified to run the company and lead the ministry. Plans changed, however. He'd learned that Uther was suspicious of Arthur's latest behaviour and that he was moving to take precautions to prevent Arthur from "Becoming too big for his britches"as one of Arthur's people had quoted him saying. Uther could do what he liked, but Arthur intended to have all of the company's assets signed over to him, to arrange for his inheritance to be transferred to his accounts, and to quite effectively castrate Uther very, very soon.

Arthur pulled out his phone. He ignored the voice message from his father and read the emails updating him on the situation.

Sophia had forwarded him the agenda and the new files for board review, waiting, as always, for the last minute with yet another one of her trite, My apologies, I forgot to include you in the distribution list email. It couldn't be more transparent that Uther had ordered her to keep Arthur as much out of the loop as possible. He'd already studied the materials Vivian had sent him the night before. The members of the board treated him as if he were a blithering idiot of a teenager, nothing more than a puppet for Uther's ten-year plan for complete dominion of the world banks.

Arthur looked forward to cutting them at the knees in the very near future. He waited a moment for his bodyguards, who had been sent ahead, to congregate around the sedan. As long as he was still under Uther's so-called control, Arthur had an act to maintain, and his bodyguards understood the roles they had to play.

Of all of the men and women closest to Arthur, Gwaine was his least favourite. Deadly, dangerous, and efficient, he was among the first people that Arthur would want close by if it came down to a fight.

On the other hand, he was tactless, uncouth, and could be found drowning either in-between someone's legs or in the cheapest bottle of whiskey he could afford.

Gaius had been Uther's right-hand man right up until Uther forbade him from practicing his satanic rituals. On the surface, Gaius continued to play his role the same way Arthur did, but Gaius was of much better use to everyone if he was allowed to practice his beliefs.

Stars were objects of perpetual light, and even the most mundane person could make a Star of Bethlehem brighten on contact. It was little more than a torch to see clearly in a gloomy room or to guide someone along an unknown path. Though his knowledge on the subject was admittedly small, Arthur wasn't aware that the Star of Bethlehem had ever been used as a weapon.

He turned to face forward, a hand resting lazily on the steering wheel. Didn't kill Morgana's flunky, but got the message across. He schooled his expression to teenage petulance and stepped out of the car. The bodyguards fell in place around him, expressionless and unfriendly at first glance. No one would suspect that they had any kind of personal relationship with their ward. Uther certainly didn't.

Gareth's passion was his music, but as long as his grandmother was in a care centre, he had to pay the bills -- the side errands he did for Arthur let him save up so that he could quit his day job. Lamorak had grown up in an orphanage with no idea of who his parents were, though thanks to Arthur, he was aware that he was a nephilim and was getting close to finding the sister he hadn't known he'd had. Theobald "Just call me Theo, I fucking hate my name" was an army vet currently embroiled in a messy divorce, and the lawyer Arthur had secured for him would make certain that he obtained custody of his two young daughters.

Arthur had learned at a very young age that Uther cared nothing for the everyman or woman. Most of the people in Uther's little congregation were pedantic upper class who cared nothing outside their sphere of existence and influence. It was baffling to see so many self-proclaimed Satanists thumbing their noses at the very tenets that most Satanists held dear, but they all came to heel whenever Uther snapped his fingers. Uther relied on everyone to do his dirty work for him.

Mary at the reception desk, whose son was in intensive care after being brutally attacked on the streets. A grey-faced Monmouth in the libraries whose chemotherapy treatments weren't doing much against his Stage IV lymphoma. Even Uther's own two-faced secretary, Sophia, who in the hopes of marrying well one day, lifted up her skirts whenever Uther wanted a quick fuck. All of them, except for those in Uther's inner circle and, of course, Sophia, would be Arthur's instrument in bringing his father to heel.

Arthur half turned, about to shake his head, I'll call on his lips. A fluorescent light flickered, at the far end of the underground garage, reflecting over the sea of expensive sedans in muted blacks, greys and blues before burning out. For once, Gwaine didn't argue and did what he was told. Call the lift. No matter what happens, go upstairs and wait for me. He stared at the distant lights as they went out, his movements jerky as he fumbled and depressed the Up button.

Theo handed his gun to Gwaine. The lights continued to go black, one by one, flickering ominously before darkness spread across a few more parking spots. At the midway point, the lights sparked. Shadows stretched out into disembodied figures. Into jagged limbs, broken wings, claws. Monstrous and foreboding, meant to threaten and frighten. The doors to the lift opened. Gareth went in with the sort of barely-restrained haste of a man spooked but trying not to show it.

Theo hesitated a moment, but only to slap an extra gun cartridge in Gwaine's hand. Arthur waited until the doors closed. The encroaching shadows jerked. In compounds it retains essentially the same import, at, upon, etc. In Ralph Woodrow's excellent expose Babylon Mystery Religionhe brings out how the beast, which we have conclusively identified as the Roman church, i. As early as the year it was pointed out, as Andreas Helwig did in his book Roman Antichrist, that the title "Vicar of Christ " has a numerical value of Written as "Vicar of the Son of God" in Latin.

Vicarivs Filii Deithe letters with numerical value are these: I equals 1 used six timesL equals 50, V equals 5, C equalsand D equals When these are all counted up, the total is This number reminds us, of course, of Revelation "Let him that hath understanding count the number of the beast: for it is the number of a man: and his number is six hundred threescore and six.

The examples given here will be of special interest because they are linked with Rome and with Roman Catholicism. In this language, S was 60, T wasU was 6, and R wasa total of His name, when written in Hebrew letters, equals The Greek letters of the word "Lateinos" Latinthe historical language of Rome in all its official acts, amount to This was pointed out by Irenaeus as early as the third century.

This same word also means "Latin man" and is but the Greek form of the name Romulus, from which the city of Rome is named. This name in Hebrew, Romiithalso totals All other numbers were made up of combinations of these.

This wealth played an important part in leading him astray. In the New Testament, the letters of the Greek word euporiafrom which the word "wealth" is translated, total Out of all the 2, Greek nouns of the New Testament, there is only one other word that has this numerical value, the word paradosis, translated "tradition" Acts Matt. Wealth and tradition--interestingly enough--were the two great corrupters of the Roman Church.

Wealth corrupted in practice and honesty, tradition corrupted in doctrine. But as E. Bullinger points out in his book Numbers in Scripture p. This combination was later simplified and finally arrived as M. In another book I read which I am attempting to locate, the author indicated that the Greek word for Satan is Teiten. The numerical values of that name is It's obvious that Satan gave the beast, and the city of Rome his power, seat and authority AND the number of his name.

Since the creation of the world when God set aside the seventh day as a day of rest for mankind, it has been observed as a sacred day by lovers of God.

The seven day work week has stood through the centuries, and other than the creation week, there is no explanation for why the week is seven days long. Other civilizations and countries, such as France, have tried to change the number of days in the week, but this attempt has always failed. Around years after Christ, and beginning with the church in Rome, Christians began to participate with the pagan religions in their Sunday Day of the Sun celebrations while still continuing to observe the Sabbath.

Since these Sunday celebrations were more enjoyable than the solemn ceremonies that they participated in on the seventh day of the week, they began to look with disfavor on the seventh day and began to worship on Sunday. In A. The English translation of the decree reads as follows:. Country people, however, may freely attend to the cultivation of the fields, because it frequently happens that no other days are better adapted for planting the grain in the furrows or the vines in the trenches.

So that the advantage given by heavenly providence may not for the occasion of a short time perish. Who Changed the Day? Since then, the Roman Catholic Church has lent its weight to worship on Sunday and has stated that it is a mark of its authority as a representative of God that the day of worship was changed from Saturday or Sabbath to Sunday. You may find the following quotations interesting and informative.

They are all quoted from various publications of or affiliated with the Roman Catholic Church. What day was the Sabbath? The seventh day, our Saturday. Do you keep the Sabbath? We keep the Lord's Day. Which is that? The first day: Sunday. Who changed it? The Catholic Church. How prove you that the church hath power to command feasts and Holy Days? By the very act of changing the Sabbath into Sunday, which Protestants allow of; and therefore they fondly contradict themselves by keeping Sunday strictly, and breaking most other feasts commanded by the same church.

How prove you that? Because by keeping Sunday, they acknowledge the church's power to ordain feasts, and to command them under sin.

Have you any other way of proving that the church has power to institute festivals of precept?

Bursting Out (The Beast Became Human) by Metal Priests, released 15 March 1. Bursting Out 2. MP (Metal Priests) 3. Startide Rising 4. Pyromania 5. Out For Love 6. On The Loose Again 7. Fight For Your Life 8. Hellglow 9. No More Heroes World Of Tears Heavy/Speed Metal. Overall, the album is worth listening to, but only for 6 out of 10 tracks - all of which are pretty close to top-tier, but still, the album is far from being consistently great. If you're a fan of classic heavy/power/speed, check this one out and just skip the clunkers in the second half of the album, you'll have yourself a pretty sweet little EP. MP is a heavy/speed metal band from Emmendingen, Baden-Württemberg, Germany, that was formed in The band split up in Although the band disbanded .

MP aka Metal Priests were an obscure heavy metal band formed in Germany at Later on same year they released their first full length album Bursting Out – eventually releasing three more albums after the debut at (Get It Now), (Showdown) and (Melting Point under changed band name “Melting Point”).

MP (22) - Bursting Out (The Beast Became Human) (LP, Album) Label: STEPS Records Cat#: 1C Media Condition: Media: Near Mint (NM or M-) Sleeve Condition: Sleeve: Very Good Plus (VG+) View Release Page: Seller: fun; %, 27 ratings ; Ships From: Russian Federation; € the human beast - volume one - decca uk vinyl lp Favourite Auctions To save auctions to your favourites, please login.

The Hell Beast is a gargantuan robot constructed by Black Ghost who serves as Moses' enforcer and the secondary antagonist of the "Middle East" arc of the Cyborg manga. The Hell Beast was first summoned by Moses to frighten off the 00 Cyborgs and an archaeologist and his daughter, causing much destruction and killing the archaeologist before mysteriously vanishing along with Moses.

MP aka Metal Priests were an obscure heavy metal band formed in Germany at Later on same year they released their first full length album Bursting Out – eventually releasing three more albums after the debut at (Get It Now), (Showdown) and (Melting Point under changed band name “Melting Point”). - Tracks taken from the Bursting Out (The Beast Became Human) lp. - Tracks taken from the Get It Now lp. Recording information: Tracks Recorded and mixed at Franz K Tonstudio, Witten/Ruhr, Germany - Co-mixed by MP. - DMM (Direct Metal Mastered). Tracks

the human beast - volume one - decca uk vinyl lp Favourite Auctions To save auctions to your favourites, please login.


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8 Replies to “ Hellglow - MP (22) - Bursting Out (The Beast Became Human) (Vinyl, LP, Album) ”

  • MP (22) - Bursting Out (The Beast Became Human) (LP, Album) Label: STEPS Records Cat#: 1C Media Condition: Media: Near Mint (NM or M-) Sleeve Condition: Sleeve: Very Good Plus (VG+) View Release Page: Seller: fun; %, 27 ratings ; Ships From: Russian Federation; €
  • Nov 05,  · ALL CREDITS ARE LISTED BELOW WITH LINKS Song: Bottom of the Sea (Instrumental Version) by Dhruva Aliman seygetbatileansugaraddiporlita.co
  • Jun 17,  · BEAST(비스트) - 3rd Album 'HIGHLIGHT' 자켓 촬영 비하인드(Jacket making behind)! - Duration: United CUBE (CUBE Entertainment Official YouTube Channel) 37, views.
  • Apr 18,  · Provided to YouTube by Universal Music Group The Beast ( Digital Remaster) · Concrete Blonde Bloodletting - 20th Anniversary Edition ℗ .
  • Oct 09,  · We also know that there is a number associated with it’s (the Beast) name (Rev. ) and that somehow, someway, it equals to six-hundred and sixty-six. Because of the wording in Revelation 13, it is sometimes hard to distinguish between the Beast the man, or the Beast the final government system. Either way, the number is a human-number.
  • The actual Hell Beast is definitely ripped off from the Skeksis of Dark Crystal, only Hell Beast wears a hella lotta red lipstick, but is less flamboyant in his off-the-rack rags. Supposedly this movie is about evil entering the world and trying to take over, but uh, nothing really happens or points in that direction. Horrible. Do not rent. Do.

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