Borrow animal hides hang from their skeletal frames, legs
obscured, they float through the dead lands like furry apparitions. Their language stripped of all unnecessary
prompt and frill, grinded down to the essential components, animalistic grunts
and monkey chitters. Tools made of
stone; bows of sinew and raw hide. The
arrival of the Krath signaled the end of the illusion of civilized man. The dream is dead.
The vampires, lycanthropes and shape shifters rose from their
musty tombs and set forth with making the world as they remembered it during
their golden age, before the long sleep.
Victorian style monoliths rose in a fort night, slave construction held
under the warm glow of the crimson moon, labyrinths tunneled through mountain stone,
refuge against the hot burn of daylight.
Thousands of subhuman slaves toil with rough hands and empty hearts to
realize the nightmare dream of the awoken vampire legion.
All across the globe forgotten things arise from the empty
spaces. The dog headed tribe of the
Amazon, the witches of Antarctica, the subterranean frog men of New York, the
dragon hybrids of Eastern Asia and stone golems of the Middle East, all manner
of strange creature that have not suffered under the burning light of day for centuries,
cross the globe in plain sight, unashamed, naked. The night tribes return; ancient politics re-forged,
ancient feuds find new foothold. The
werewolf tribes declare a bloody civil war.
Tooth and claw, savagery rules the land.
I WILL HAVE MY REVENGE! Stirring under the dark earth of Camp Blackfoot in upstate NY, Cropsy sits in his crypt watching hours upon pain staking hours of wretched B-rated filth and reading tomes of unholy pulp comics, swearing revenge on all those who've wronged him. His brain melts, slowly absolving his sanity. It spills forth on the inter-webs, contaminating the digital frontier like a burrowing parasite. Fans of flicks and funnybooks that defy common sense and moral decency welcome. Bring your own beer.... and body-bags!