The One Where I Had to Talk to People (and Then Everything Caught Fire)
DISCLAIMER: If you came here for actual journalistic coverage of Fortress Festival—this is not that.
Please head over to [stormbringer.at] for a proper live report with facts, structure, and objectivity.
This? This is the personal side.
This one’s got feelings. Spirals. Regret. Way too many thoughts.
It is biased, chaotic, and emotionally compromised.
You’ve been warned.
Welcome back.
If you missed Part III, that’s where things finally got loud—Nemorous, Perennial Isolation, Aquilus, Spirit Posession, Osi and the Jupiter, The Great Old Ones and a lot of very questionable food decisions.
It also ended with me alone on the balcony, sweating over a neatly printed list of interview questions and missing two bands I genuinely wanted to see.
Now it was time for my real challenge: Talking to actual humans. On purpose. With a voice.
Let’s begin.
Interview – The One Where I Nearly Fainted Off a Balcony
At 18:20, Dom met me in the press room: "I’ll go get the band now."
And I briefly considered fleeing. Not the room. The festival.
Taking photos? Writing?
Fine. You can do that silently and look semi-competent.
Talking to real humans?
Horrifying.
But I’d prepped. Printed questions. Put them in a folder like a good little panic-ridden German.
Then the door opened—and in walked Sean, Elyse, and Chris. Full band. Full chaos.
The press room felt way too small all of a sudden, so I asked if we could do the interview outside on the balcony. They agreed (bless them), and the sea air helped.
And—it went alright.
They were kind. The conversation mostly flowed—bit of wobble here and there, but we recovered. No one died. Chris said something poetic and appropriately mic-drop-y at the end, so I took that as my cue to stop the recording.
Fifteen minutes. Survived.
Somewhere in there, we also clocked the connection—I mentioned the Avowal blog post, and it clicked. Apparently my writing got a good chuckle. I gave full permission to quote me.
Cringe. But also—whatever. I was riding the adrenaline high.
You can read the interview all neatly typed up here on Stormbringer.
Ruïm – The One with the Fire and the Satanic Mic Stand
After the interview, I needed to decompress hard.
Chris (husband Chris that is!) handed me a beer.
I exhaled for what felt like the first time all day.
And just like that—something shifted.
I’d made it.
The nerves were gone. I knew my way around the venue.
The press room was familiar territory.
I had the layout in my brain, my feet taped up, and at least half a clue what I was doing.
Time to enjoy the actual festival.
Ruïm took the stage shortly after.
Main Stage. Prime slot.
The Great Hall was packed—and you could feel why.
This was one of the festival’s most anticipated sets, and the atmosphere shifted the moment the lights dropped.
Blasphemer—ex-Mayhem, now Ruïm mastermind—was here for an exclusive UK show.
They played nearly the full 2023 debut Black Royal Spiritism – I: O Sino da Igreja.
The show?
Two flaming bowls flanking the stage.
An ornate trident mic stand straight out of a hellish cathedral.
Black robes, backlighting, and ritualistic presence dialled up to eleven.
And—under those robes? Biker boots.
Big, stompy, demonic biker boots.
10/10 styling choice.
It was sensory theatre.
And then Ravn from 1349 walked out to join a performance of Mayhems “I Am Thy Labyrinth” for good measure.
Because of course he did.
Black metal supergroup moment, no big deal.
Still not sure I connected with the music the way others did—but I understood the gravity.
The crowd was locked in.
You don’t need to believe the sermon to know when you’re in a cathedral.
Akhlys – The One With the Masked Nightmare
Black Metal from the US.
If there was ever a moment where Fortress felt like it might burst at the seams, this was it.
The Ocean Room hit full capacity fast. Admission was stopped. The queue backed up all the way to the merch stall. People were still standing in line deep into the set. Everyone wanted in. Many didn’t make it.
And honestly? No wonder.
Akhlys didn’t just play black metal. They summoned it. Raw, fast, furious — the kind of set that doesn’t leave you room to think, just react. This was full sensory overload: blood-curdling blast beats, tremolo riffs sharp enough to flay flesh, and visuals that looked like someone weaponised a sleep paralysis demon. The masks added a tangible menace to the stage. A sense that something unholy was being channelled at you. You either endured it or it devoured you.
This set was a clear highlight for a lot of people. Everyone I talked to was buzzing about it. And yeah—many wondered why they weren’t on the main stage.
1349 – Ending Day One with Fire and Ferality
Half past nine saw the arrival of Saturday’s headliners: 1349.
They came on stage breathing fire. Literally. Because of course they did.
You want spectacle? You get a bearded pyro-viking huffing out flames like a Norse dragon.
What followed was one hour of feral, blast-beat-drenched mayhem. Full-throttle black metal chaos. The mosh pit broke loose. Not the nice, polite kind. The kind that smells like blood and regret.
It was black metal distilled down to its pure, barbaric essence.
The band didn’t let up for a second. Blast beats pummeled us into submission. The lights flared. Corpse paint ran. Hell was summoned, served, and swallowed whole.
I made it out, barely. My feet were screaming. Blisters at both heels. Toes squished into unnatural positions. I walked back to the hotel on socks, clinging to the last sliver of dignity and a bottle of lukewarm water.
But god, stepping out of that venue into the night?
The ocean. Waves crashing. The wind cold and clean. After hours of sonic obliteration, the silence felt sacred.
My heart was full.
Day one: conquered.