Slayers of Old

Slayers of Old

“O ye who dwells between dream and death, whose forgotten children reigned on Earth as it was before. O ye of a thousand names and ten thousand hungers, who waits beyond invisible stars. Accept this gift and hear me.”

“. . .”

“In your frozen city beyond darkness and light and time, hear the prayer of your faithful servant and champion.”

“. . .”

“O ye who devoured the keepers of chaos and order, who was born at the center of the maze of the infinite, whose deathless servants live once more, hear me.”

“. . .”

“. . . you’re asleep, aren’t you?”

“. . .”

“That’s great. I work my ass off to bring glory to your names, but sure, just hit the snooze button for an extra era or two.”

“. . .”

“What do you want? More worshippers? More sacrifices? A megachurch with a band and pyrotechnics and huge high-def screens showing every pore of my ugly mug while I praise your names?”

“. . .”

“Fucking gods, man.”