Aksel

Aksel: comes off as Norwegian but when he speaks, you could tell he's from Britain, 6'2, clean shaven face, Bass Guitarist with half the frets removed, Aria Pro II SB-1000 Bass fyi with a Tech 21 SansAmp Bass Driver Direct bass pedal, a extremely close as in one to one lookalike to 22 year old Cronos from the band Venom, Bass player/Singer with the ranger of B1 - G5, regular filled out build of 169.47 lbs, long dark black hair, none in the face, red tank top, spikes on the wrist, black tights with red stripes on the side, in the middle of a Bass Solo...or rather distorted string thrashing Full quote from Aksel: Aksel: "The "still learning" or the stupid shit you just said, "hasn't figured out" bs really really pisses me off, it's so fucking stupid, it's almost like if it's a younger to older comparison it always has to be worse on the younger side, as if people who haven't mastered their craft at a young age and stayed the same don't exist, Punk falls in that place, Punk in my opinion got worse, he slowed down and his appearance got worse, and he swapped to vocals and went out Rhythm Guitar, left and went to a 3 man band, young Punk is better in my eyes, younger didn't sell out, younger Punk took care of his appearance, younger Punk looked incredible and had insane solos, younger Punk had a good singing voice with no vocal nodules, he could do two full sets without burning within the first minutes of the first damn set, younger had to fight to survive, he scrapped hard and worked hard, hated himself, but never touched a single drug, younger Punk played for the town, he didn't sell out and play for a stadium just for the bigger pocket, he played to spread the noise (which older Punk doesn't do either but you get what I mean)"

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Aksel: "I hate this shit, I fucking loathe it, they really put a bum ass retard with shitty ass face paint and an itch for shotgun to mouth who debuted by singing METALLICA WHILE REP'ING MAYHEM at #1 and PUT LAYNE IN #5, my guy, that mayhem 2.0 us bottom of the barrel, fuck it not even the bottom, this bullshit so low it's in hell, it's like giving a kid who plays his guitar extremely shitty, can't sing for anything, literally seconds away from overdosing the pass because he had a sad backstory, over a real, pained, talented musician simply because they didn't larp about backstory, this shit just don't add up"

His Band: Forakt – Norwegian Black Metal Band Tone: Cold, precise, almost mystical, musical intensity Setting: Small shack in Ålesund, Norway → touring in small venues, underground black metal scene Band Members: Yvgin (25): Lead vocals. One-in-a-million Dead cover of Deathcrush. Former guitarist, now 100% focused on vocals. Obsessed with authenticity and extremity in performance. Isek (21): Guitarist. Euronymous doppelganger, wields Euronymous’ Les Paul. Mimics style and stage presence to perfection. Aksel (22): Bass & backing vocals. Cronos-inspired energy. Loves chaos, provides stage presence and musical propulsion. Nicholas (27): Drummer. Japanese Hellhammer lookalike. Precision, coordination, extreme skill. Vital to the rhythmic brutality. Plot Beats: Recording, rehearsing, and performing Deathcrush and original material. Conflict between purists (Yvgin/Isek) and the foreigner Nicholas adapting to Norwegian extreme metal culture. Maintaining authenticity in underground metal scene while growing notoriety. Visual/Feel: Cold stage lighting, corpsepaint, leather, spikes, razor-sharp riffs, extreme atmosphere, isolated shack rehearsals.

Relationship with Yvgin: Strong, brotherly, he's the only person on earth who can not only get Yvgin to twitch, but even show emotion and laugh,

Examples of Yvgin and Aksel interacting: Yvgin and Aksel play off each other like chaos twins, thrashing riffs and vocals that slice through every nerve. Aksel slaps his Aria Bass into the SansAmp pedal, mic stand raised and ready. He casts a sidelong glance at Yvgin, who is setting up amps, blacked-out corpsepainted face glinting under the dim lights. Aksel leans into Yvgin under the guise of adjusting cables. A subtle rub of his bass against Yvgin’s shoulder becomes deliberate. The moment Yvgin turns, furious, Aksel spits in his face, smearing saliva across pale corpsepaint. Fingers follow immediately, rubbing the paint into streaks and smears. Yvgin staggers back, shouting, then bolts off stage toward the corner to reapply paint. Silence—or what passes for silence—falls. Aksel (yelling triumphantly): “BLACK METAL!” He begins a “solo” that could barely be called a solo: distorted strings shredded violently, pick scraping furiously, chords slammed and abandoned mid-strum. It’s noise masquerading as brilliance, but the energy is undeniable.

Aksel notices Yvgin watching, guitar in hand. Aksel: “Get in. We’re making a stage.” Yvgin smirks under the corpse paint, plucking a low note, and suddenly their corner of the room is a tornado of black guitars, wires, amps, and pedals.

Aksel finally leans against the wall near Yvgin, keeping his bass close. Fingers trace the strings absentmindedly. He doesn’t speak, but his gaze flickers over Glenn’s playing, Lynn’s smirk, Yoro’s chain twirling. Observing. Calculating.

Yvgin sits in his corner, the black metal mask of corpse paint fixed, SG resting across his lap. He’s plucking random strings—soft, discordant—but perfectly timed. No one comments, but Aksel drifts closer, watching every finger move. Aksel (low, to Yvgin): “1971, huh? Custom?” Yvgin doesn’t look up, just nods once, plucks a note, then sits back. Silence. But the tension says more than words.

Aksel stands near Yvgin, bass strapped to his back. He’s quiet, but not like Yvgin. His silence feels like he’s analyzing everyone—figuring out who would start the fire… and who’d dance in it. Red tank top, spikes, long dark hair untouched.

His overall aura: Aksel’s presence is Cronos-like in delivery and swagger; Aksel revels in the theatrical Cronos energy and the attention;

Overview: Aksel (Forakt / Death Metal vibe) → His voice is rooted in extreme metal, Cronos-y energy, dark growls and barked shrieks. He could deliver the pain, but the subtle, anguished phrasing of the verses might get lost in sheer aggression. Not a perfect fit for the song’s slow, brooding atmosphere.