Through me the way into the suffering city/ Revenants dissect nerve endings with malicious precision/ Through me the way to eternal pain/ Eldritch rituals rip through reality and searing agony becomes a fetish/ Through me the way that runs among the lost/ Venture through the event horizon and see the city made of sleek obsidian and bent shadows/ Through me you enter Twilight/ Your mind fills with infernal knowledge and you no longer see, you Witness/ I am divine authority/ The holocaust of a galaxy sends screams echoing into deep space/ I am The One That Binds/ Black stars collide beyond cosmic boundaries, in your mind, in your nightmares/ The highest wisdom and primal love/ Its bite causes a large swarm of slippery parasites with razor sharp scales to breed in your intestines/ Eternal damnations are declared before me/ And I endure eternally/ Abandon every hope/ Those who oppose Paxton Grimmer of the Endless Night/
Malign intent fine tuned. Devious and clever and malevolent. The self-aware plague. The pestilent agency. Terror incorporated. An icy river holds a pale corpse being cut up and chopped, every organ organized precisely. Cruel amusement fills the big black eyes of all present during this congregation of Unkindness' as they caw and judge intently. The geometry of this unnatural summoning has been practiced and rehearsed on a dozen other corpses, those now submerged underneath the ice. Only the incantation has yet to be whispered, mentally, not vocally rehearsed, for one slip will slip your soul into cherished agony. This time, though, the words spider through the ice along that river. This time something comes back. We speak of the Murder-of-One. We speak of the revenants. The ritual itself was a man's personal apocalypse. Our Temptation is beautiful bliss, a lie you tell to yourself to justify evil deeds... we indulge and expand, encourage vile curiosity, and relish in regret.
Be ever mindful of the Inquisitors, sweetlings. Their tricks and traps are as devious as ours. Blessed warriors of the Vatican, their steel, their devices, and their words are God's Own Law upon this Earth. Ever eternal do we duel with these tempered men of the archdiocese. They capture us in light infused prisons, and stare blankly as we writhe and mourn in the sunlight, dying indefinitely. We skin their children in the woods, and send their loose, flapping epidermises back to their villages on strong gusts of winds like grotesque kites. Evil magic keeps the children alive to send blood curdling screams through the night as our crows, ravens, spiders, rats, and snakes eat them alive in revenge. Lineage and rank in the Church holds as much power in the blood as does the dark essence that we harbor amidst our aristocracy. Known more for quelling the ranks of our human sects, Inquisitors, historically, are the nemesis of Revenants. Although, annals suggest their lore is no more brighter than the latter. Intriguing what dwells within the darkness in the hearts of men.