...Iron gates, twisted and broke offering no
protection. Alone, crouched down in pouring
rain behind a cross. The heavens roar as the
horsemen approach to avenge their smouldering church, desecrate and shed all traces of a false and ambiguous cult. Liberation, from the forces of evil disguised as light. Chanting aloud from the tomb of the dead, I rise a weary army marching out into the terrain, inhale weak
christians. The black smoke weakens your
burning church to ash...