The day of October the 18th was blessed with many a profane omen. Despite suppression attempts by our resident shadow government, occult circles reported a wave of strange happenings throughout the Commonwealth of Massachusetts. A wave of babies were born prematurely, each with a lazy eye and the bones of their hands fused into the sign of the horns, and 666 calculators at Waltham High School simultaneously displayed the numbers 80085, or "boobs" in calculator code. Meanwhile, goats all over the state were reported as being "uncharacteristically restless." One local farmer stated that "some unseen force has disturbed their spiritual essence. Their goat soul, the force within that has sustained them as one of Earth's most powerful creatures for eons, has been disturbed. A dark force is gathering in the West." I myself got off relatively scot free, suffering only a colossal nosebleed in the shower and a shortage of shampoo.

Ancient councils gathered in clandestine caves to seek out the meaning of these nefarious omens, but only I (and anyone else who bought tickets, really) knew the answer. Oct. 18th was a victory day, a warrior's day, a metal day; Amon Amarth was returning to the Palladium once again to massacre any survivors from the battle they waged last December. With said gig engraved in my brain as one of my favorite all-time live experiences and Amon Amarth's new album, Twilight of The Thundergod, I was more than eager to take up swords with the reigning Viking death metal kings once again.

Knowing full well the madness that Amon Amarth can generate in the live arena, I decided it was time to bring in fresh troops. The first choice was easy. Having sat out a few campaigns, it was time to bring back Erik "Witch-lover" Stumacher '09 to serve as obnoxious back seat driver and all-around human shield. My second companion was something of a risk. Alex "Ale Hellhound" Clos '09 was a new addition to my metal forces and was all too eager to prove himself in battle. That he was the captain of our commandeered vessel for the evening also helped his case. So, our party gathered, we set forth toward the gathering darkness at the Palladium in Worcester.

Following a humiliating strip search, we entered the venue just in time to catch Tampa's melodic death metallers The Absence. Some of you may remember the fair shake I gave these grunts in my review of their latest release Riders of the Plague, which I deemed a little unoriginal but still capable of inducing severe whiplash. Fortunately for them, only the latter of those two characteristics counts in the live arena. Most opening bands don't get much in the way of crowd participation, but The Absence somehow managed to captivate the entire venue with their thrashy riffs and frontline of enormous beards. Most impressive. Guitarist Peter Joseph also deserves a nod for some of the evening's most impressive and mesmerizing leads. That guy and his enormous beard are going places.

After a sublime head banging warm-up, our party was subjected to one of the strangest live experiences in recent memory, courtesy of Austria's black metal evil-doers Belphegor. Though not particularly remarkable from a musical perspective, Belphegor stood out for the perverse and nonsensical stage ramblings of English language-challenged frontman Helmuth. In between their shredding tremolo riffs and incessant blast beats, the leather-bound band leader would spout his entire English language repertoire, which consisted of "Satan," "blood" and the F-word in interchangeable order. Beyond that, there wasn't much to write home about. Determined to save my energy for the headliners, I nodded along politely for the duration of the set and applauded at the appropriate moments.

Finland's folk/battle metal troupe Ensiferum was next on the list, and, judging by the number of black shirts bearing their logo, they were just as anticipated as the headliners. I had heard of Ensiferum as one of the leaders of the whole pagan metal movement that's so hot right now but had neglected to check them out. What a mistake that turned out to be. From the opening notes of their folky intro track to the final sing-along, the crowd was going berserk for Ensiferum's happy, bouncy and keyboard-heavy battle metal. I don't know what it is about traditional Nordic folk music that lends itself so well to heavy metal, but this stuff is like catnip for metal heads. Even without a cursory knowledge of their catalog, I went just as cuckoo. I even purchased two of their CDs from the merchandise table in a fit of feline madness.

Taking advantage of the crowd's rabid state, Amon Amarth wasted no time switching sets and unleashing their thunder upon our ears. Honestly, there isn't much I can say about AA that hasn't already been screamed with greater enthusiasm. Simultaneously crushing and melodic, the band dominates the live arena. Having seven albums worth of "hits" doesn't hurt, either. The sound at the venue was unusually good and everyone up to the back was head banging frantically. Even the return of my colossal nosebleed didn't deter me from windmilling with extreme fervor. Rather than miss a song, I stuck an earplug up my nose. Metal.

The Northernmost metallers played a flawless set, touching on all of their master works except (for inexplicable reasons) The Crusher-despite having seen them three times, I'm still waiting to hear "Masters of War." Other than that qualm, it was a victorious evening. Bodies lay strewn across Worcester, and our party returned home triumphant, our bellies full of enemy flesh and pancakes.