Sovereignty: Royal Flush

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Megadeth Symphony of Destruction

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It’s a dirty job but someone’s gotta do it. Ruling isn’t an easy task you know, with great power comes far greater responsibility. Leading an army requires a certain level of commitment from its monarchs and the day-to-day running of a kingdom could leave one exasperated. Double monarchs, however, are a whole different ball game, especially if the regal pair are Matt Farnsworth and Diane Foster.

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These two just take it all in their stride, a day at the office normally involves a bucket of blood at some point, and they pour it onto prime rib like peppercorn. There’s such a fine art to what they do daily. For starters, shooting is no easy five-minute task, and that’s not even taking into account the meticulous editing process which King Matt has vast experience of.

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Not only do they provide daily banquets for their ever-expanding legion of devout followers but they keep that shit fresh. Each photo tells its own story and the locales and props are forever rotating, meaning that at no point do you not invest in their lavish brutalities.


They make a beautiful pair, like two bloodied book-ends. King Matt with those magnificent peepers that glow like fierce beacons, hinting at warmth while burning with stark passion. His soft toned pelt is the source of many ladies’ secret innermost desires and, should they get afforded the opportunity, they’d lick that shit like a bloody lollipop. You know exactly who you are out there, reading this with firm mammalia and throbbing haunches, it’s nothing to be ashamed of. I’m guessing a lot of fantasies would consist of both Brother Matt and Norman Reedus wearing as precious little as possible. The mere mention is likely causing convulsions as many of you read this and who am I to stop anyone in their tracks?

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Lady Die just oozes sensuality. It courses through every fucking fiber and bleeds out with darkest beauty. Her supple curves have been known to provoke Scanners-like head bursts and her long, smooth pins are like sculptured pieces of art. Whether fully robed, or writhing in bloody residue, the impact is entirely the same. She makes the more restrained man yearn her touch, her delicious scent, her inviting sex.

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When I posted Behind The Eyes in three editions, and invited the Grueheads to choose or die, their articles remained neck and neck for views throughout. You want a well-oiled machine well you’ve got it; never a case of one carrying the other, they walk forth from the darkness with delicious synchronicity.

Norma Jeane Mortenson; June 1, 1926 – August 5, 1962

I like to use comparisons and, when waxing about Lady Die, frequently draw them against screen legends Katharine Hepburn and Marilyn Monroe. I don’t do so lightly; there’s such a refined beauty to her, she almost appears to have stepped out of another time on occasion. Keeper isn’t only aficionado to horror, I’m a fully fledged film buff, have been all my life and there’s a Cate Blanchett-like grace about the way she carries herself. She devours the lens and prowls around it like a stealthy panther.

James Byron Dean February 8, 1931 – September 30, 1955

There is also a comparison I wish to make of King Matt and that is the late James Dean. He has that same classic look, shares Jimmy’s ability to soak through gussets with the diminutive facial movement and ferociously stalks through expression the same way as the Rebel Without A Cause.

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After all this time they’re still just as focused on their goals as they were when they started out, in the manner of true monarchy. But all the time they’re basking in the bloody light, something is stirring in the vaults beneath. It’s big brother Marcus; pacing about with his axe in hand, biding his time until unleashed once more.

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He’s seriously got the ache, confined and steadily growing more aggravated, he is chomping on the bit to carve some fresh meat. When it comes to the cut, he displays none of the grace of his keepers. He crudely shears flesh from marrow without an ounce of remorse as though he knows each victim will eventually lead him back to his little sister. He simply cannot be incarcerated much longer, his restraints are weakening and his lust for blood is only intensifying with each day that passes.

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TOK2 will provide the playground he craves, the body count is about to go off-the-chart and this snarling psychopath will soon be let out to play. Make absolutely no mistake, the result shall exceed even the loftiest of expectations. The reason for this is quite elementary Grueheads: Belief. Through consistent enterprising and workhorse-like commitment they appreciate what it means to so many.

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Many lesser entities would find themselves overpowered by such expectation but everything they do is with such insurmountable verve that it’s long been a foregone conclusion. When this baby is ready to hit, it’ll have eyes and hearts bleeding worldwide and anyone not yet familiar with Matt Farnsworth and Diane Foster will damned sure get to know. Raise a chalice of cruor for these two fine specimens, drink in their galleries, share in their passion. The monarchy is in pretty fucking good shape from where I’m seated.

Click here to read Black Mist


Truly, Really, Clearly, Sincerely,

Keeper of the Crimson Quill

First Knight of TOK

Copyright: Crimson Quill: Savage Vault Enterprises 2013


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