---

Chants are murmured, in the darkest night.
While the dog-servant whines
In agony.
His master grins and gloats for a while
As the power of the Blackest Death takes
Control.
The Altar is prepared.
Set for one.

Whispers shrivel down the tunnel, as darkness
Lurks warily.
Arms chopped off,
Eyes gouged out,
The Master is Superior.
All bow in his immense presence.
Sitting upon the altar he surveys
The peasants that fall before him.
He rips them apart with bare hands.
For the Altar has the Power
Of Supreme Evil.

---

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