The Gory Mace
or
The Fray.
The lunatics gathered under the light of the moon, gibbering like monkeys let out to dine. The leader of the Band was an old crone who blessed them all. They chanted and spittled all sorts of foul things as a collective, each blessing and slapping the other as they prepared to do evil. Each was like a little plot of insanity, uncovering their defects made the eye blur as it sought to encompass their gross deformity. Each claimed superiority in their own brand of craft, slipping among the rocks and using them as disguise and shield, luring in the innocent so they could served drinks of poison, hitting out with rude and unformed weapons at all the unsuspecting. The litter and the stink around the glen grew worse daily as their fell blessings flowed, one upon the other reinforcing the ugly misshapeness of their evil souls. The Eldest, a crone of incredible self proclaim led the raucous cheers of damn damn damn as they stroked their vicious and crule barbs, tipped with foulest poison.
Dear Father
And yea...
A logical man would stick out here like a sore thumb, wouldn't they.
A Christian would as well.
So, should I buy more NAXOF.
It is a god thing that Jane can't do miracles, or then we would have to believe her, right ? |
