‘twas a cold night in the month of October, through it I rode on strength of my steed. Convinced I was that the journey would grow older, respite from the chill a tantalizing dream.
Upon my eyes clashed the sight of white stone, surrounding a catacomb as dark as the night. My company limited to dead men’s bone forced passage through my involuntary plight.
Into the passage I rode, my horse taut with fear, torchlight born aloft the limit of our illumination. And from the depths, a curious sound struck my ear-- A pulsating drumbeat of unknown causation.
Onward Exeter’s hooves clacked across the stone as great fangs of rock lingered in the gloom, while strangely, the drumming seemed to have grown, as though our travels brought us to a tomb.
Through that unhallowed pit we proceeded, the entrance giving way to a giant chamber. and I realized that its walls had been seeded with skeletal remains the site of feverish labor. From below came the pounding of the drums the purpose of that foul congregation now clear-- for in the chamber crowded around a great barque, swarming zealots held offerings in the air.
Cold ran my blood as we observed the sick cult, chanting, waving torches in time with the drumming, our covert reconnaissance unnoticed amidst the tumult, the throats of the madmen full of an alien humming.
And as I looked on in abject horror I realized their goal for laid down upon the altar was a virgin girl. As the cult-master raised his knife I prayed for her soul And watched as her vitae splattered outward in a carnal whirl.
Hastily I stirred Exeter into a fierce sprint turning their heads as we clattered up the rock-way going back from whence we had just came without hint for what the scum intended to do next, no one could say.Teksty umieszczone na naszej stronie są własnością wytwórni, wykonawców, osób mających do nich prawa.
