There is a legend...
There is a legend that tells of an eldritch
race more foul and loathsome than the putrid
slime that clings to the walls of hell...
Stories of twisted creatures, half man,
half beast who move with the rustling sound
of predatory rats...always carrying with them
the stench of the charnel house...
Of wretched mutations who live deep beneath
the earth in dark tunnels, surfacing in the
dead of night and returning before dawn
to practice their unspeakable acts and
breed their filthy spawn until the
inevitable day when the stars come right,
and their swollen numbers will finally
emerge and ravish reality like a noxious
That is not dead which can eternal lie... and with strange eons even death may die
Enter of your own free will...