"This is a Gargoyle"... or is it a Bloodthirster?

In a game where the very Games Workshop specific Fimir trod the cold floor tiles of HeroQuest dungeons, it always seemed a bit odd that a Bloodthirster model was used to represent a more generic "gargoyle". I suppose it's very feasible that an Old World gargoyle might have been carved in the form of a demon by some master mason. But why not just have the Bloodthirster as the big baddie? Had the designer stated he wanted a gargoyle model and GW just plumped for the nearest design they had that could pass for one? Why then did Mike McVey paint the (prototype) gargoyle model as a flesh and blood Bloodthirster rather than the stone monster as seen on the artwork for the Kellar's Keep quest pack? 

Anyway, here is my recent attempt at painting this venerable model for use in Advanced Heroquest. I mean, he features prominently on the box artwork and inside the rulebook, so it simply had to be this exact model. Now, I'll admit to being somewhat loath to remove him from his original HeroQuest base, but luckily I actually own two gargoyles. So, I felt less like a desecrator of my own childhood as I carefully cut and filed away that familiar HeroQuest base of grey plastic.

The Bloodthirster, having a nice big yawn and stretch after a good night's sleep.

This would be the third time I'd painted a HeroQuest gargoyle. My dad had painted it originally, taking leave of Mike McVey's colour schemes for once, and left it mainly grey plastic to represent the stone but with enamel black, silver and bronze for a few bits and pieces of armour and weapons, red for eyes and so on. 

Later I painted the second gargoyle in garish acrylics, then later still borrowed its head to stick on the front of a Chaos Rhino for 2nd edition 40k. I also attached the wings to the back of a Chaos Space Marine in place of a backpack.

Rogue Trader Predator I turned into a Rhino for some reason. The old HeroQuest gargoyle head is in pride of place. It's hard to imagine even a single World Eater Marine fitting inside it.

Even later, I repainted my dad's old gargoyle with my then improved standard of painting, but once again like a stone statue. And finally, I rescued the head and wings from my mothballed Chaos Space Marine army, put it all back together, stripped it and painted it in its now final form. Probably final anyway. My gargoyles have had busy lives.

And this time, seeing as I planned to use it as an actual Bloodthirster, he ended up in classic Khornate red, bronze and black. I was particularly pleased with its mouth, the warm, wet and bloody feel (oops, nearly got possessed by Slaanesh then) achieved mainly by adding a wash of red ink over the top. 

So how did I end up with two gargoyles then? Far back in faded days, I was on holiday somewhere or other with my family, and in a toy shop I spotted a single copy of Against The Ogre Horde buried on a stacked shelf. I was excited to see it and had no idea that such a thing existed. The box was also enticingly bigger than the previous two quest packs.

As an aside, it was the only time I ever saw Against The Ogre Horde for sale anywhere. Likewise, I only ever saw the Eldar expansion for Space Crusade on a single occasion. I didn't buy it though (or beg my parents to buy it, more like) because I was already much more into 40k itself by that point.

So, obviously I bought Against The Ogre Horde immediately, didn't I? No, I didn't. For some reason it was only afterwards that I asked my parents if we could return to the shop to buy it. I had to wait until the very last day of the holiday before we did so, and for all that time I was increasingly worried that someone else would have bought it. But it was still there! I spent the journey home thinking happily about painting the ogre models and all the rest.  

Unfortunately, after I'd opened the box at home I found that the quest book was missing. Disaster! I handwrote a letter to MB Games explaining my plight (and I remember distinctly using the melodramatic phrase "to my horror I found the quest book was missing") and my mum sent it off in the post. 

As difficult as it is to imagine nowadays, in the early 90s you might expect a response to a letter or order placed via a catalogue to arrive some weeks after sending, if you were lucky. If you remember disclaimers like "please allow 28 days for delivery" then you're likely of my generation. Sure enough, a few weeks later a package arrived for me from MB Games. Not only was the quest book included, but also several sprues of extra monsters and furniture! This was great because I had the Adventure Design Kit and could now go further in my quest to fill every square of the board with a monster, as is the right of every HeroQuest player (hi Bard).

So that's how I came to be the proud owner of two gargoyles. We found that the ogre quest itself was really tough and perhaps not up to the standard of the previous quest packs. I don't believe we ever finished it. Additionally, after encountering the infamous quest with the error in it, meaning the quest couldn't be completed unless you fudged it, I genuinely began to believe that the quest book had been quickly cobbled together in a panic by some MB Games employee just for my benefit. Kids, eh? 

Pinken Axe

Finally found the time to finish up my partner's requested/demanded pink Golden Axe skeleton for Advanced Heroquest. Well, I say he's for AHQ but he'll most likely end up on the bedroom shelf where he can wave his (or her?) sword encouragingly while my partner does her makeup.

The Skeletoon (not a typo) miniature itself is a nice little metal one from Ral Partha. It's probably old enough to be considered "Oldhammer", though I'm not as familiar with their ranges as I am with Citadel to be honest. But, I'm pretty sure he's as 80s as my old swollen-tongued high-top trainers. 

Here he is in the MDF ruins of a 20th Century house. Not very Golden Axe-y, but that's (un)life for you.

What I love about Ral Partha though is that they've kept a lot of their sometimes very old models in production, and at what you'd nowadays call bargain prices. I even bought their ancient Jabberwock recently (newly cast!) for about seven British gold coins. Amazing. 

The Jabberwock is a model I've loved ever since I saw John Blanche cut its head off for use in an undead diorama in the inside cover of the "blue" Citadel Painting Guide pamphlet. I spent ages poring over that one, and I know every tiny detail, it's so evocative. Mr Blanche had cut the Jabberwock's head off at the neck so that it looked like a water monster rearing out a pool of foul water, about to snap the head off a dumbly aghast zombie. Probably not the tastiest meal, I (try not to) imagine.  

The Ral Partha figures also sit really nicely alongside the 80s era Citadel ones, though perhaps they're sometimes slightly slimmer and with smaller heads and hands than Citadel's. Back in the day it was common to see Grenadier and Ral Partha miniatures in Warhammer armies and they even occasionally appeared in official Games Workshop publications/rule books! Inconceivable today.

Anyway, back to my (i.e. my partner's) Pinken Axe skeleton. The Ral Partha miniature was the closest I found to the Golden Axe sprite, even if a skeleton with a round shield and weapon is about as generic as you can get. It would ultimately be the paintjob that would seal it as a tiny 3D replica of his pixelated granddaddy. 

Basically, I heavily drybrushed it with the infamously kinky sounding Titillating Pink over black, added a dark wash, carefully glazed it like the top of a mince pie with a thin glaze of red ink, then highlighted from there with white blah blah blah. In other words, just like in middle-era White Dwarf issues: undercoat > base coat > shade > highlight > complete. Perfect Mike McVey results every time, hahaha!

My partner also asked for a "raspberry red shield", so I did that too (can't remember what paints I used, but Clotted Blood something or other by some company or other), I think it looks perfect! The "pink" though, it lost some of the vibrant pinkiness after the highlighting. I may add another very very thin glaze of red ink to soften the highlights and get some titillation back again.

The originals. Image taken from VGJunk.

As you can see from the above image, the pink skeletons are unfortunately wielding scythes, not swords. What a rookie mistake I made. Still, it'd be absolutely impossible to find a skeleton model holding something as unlikely as a farming implement of all things. Tsk.      

The almighty Space Ork Gobsmasha

Bit of a change of pace once again from my continuing adventures in Advanced Heroquest, as I've been blowing the dust away from several old boxes lurking under the bed. These boxes are a small treasure trove of Rogue Trader and 2nd edition Warhammer 40,000 models that I thankfully never got around to throwing away. You've seen my weirdo Chaos renegades previously, now it's the turn of the Space Ork Gobsmasha.

I was chatting online to the editor of Secret Passages magazine recently and he mentioned that, like mine, his dad also painted his miniatures for him. His dad had also kindly built a Gobsmasha, using the instructions provided in White Dwarf. You can have a read through and even build your own by doing the same here.

I, on the other hand, managed to get hold of the official model. I believe they were clearing them out at the time so I bought one for literally pennies (probably) at one of those GW store "grand openings".

The model itself came in a clear plastic box, rather like an obese blister pack. Inside were a few pieces of chunky creamy resin, replete with air bubbles and soft as shit detail. It looked like a white chocolate novelty gift from Thornton's.

It is at least quite "Orky", I guess.

Being a vehicle, it posed even more of a daunting task to paint than usual, so once again my dad glued it together and painted it. But he used the mattest of matt enamel paints. In fact it was so matt that it felt horrible to handle, as if it'd been fashioned out of a melted down school chalkboard. By the time the 2nd edition 40k box was taking up too much space in my bedroom however, I felt brave enough to repaint it myself.

This time I used acrylic paints and daubed it in "satin finish" Humbrol. For some reason, I decided painting a stoned version of Brum's face on the front was a good idea too. Otherwise it looks quite okay for the time. I added some spare bits from a Leman Russ tank kit and Space Ork gubbins as well, because otherwise, there really isn't much going on with this model. It's literally a box with a featureless tube stuck on the front and what look like bottlecaps for wheels. The scratch-built version in White Dwarf looked a hundred times better!

In the 41st Millennium, oversized staples are handy for attaching space marine helmets to things.

Naturally, a spare plastic beaky marine helmet dangled off the back. It wouldn't be a completed model without one. The helmet is attached by the means of a piece of thread (stolen from my mum's embroidery box) painted brown and two staples (stolen from my mum's work desk, sorry mum). The plastic Space Ork crewman (creworc?) waving his arms around fruitlessly was also added. And a heavy flamethrower, because there's clearly plenty of room for it.

Quite how this vehicle could actually function at all is, of course, neither here not there. The gun alone allows no room for the crew, so where my plastic Ork's legs are supposed to be is a matter of interesting conjecture. That frontal gun is so huge, so massive, that assuming it could even fit inside that little box, the recoil would rip the Gobsmasha in half. But ultimately, so what? None of the tanks and fighting vehicles of the 41st Millennium make any sense whatsoever. It'd be a bit churlish to criticise the Gobsmasha in the way I've just done, wouldn't it? As bad as it is, it's just cool. 

Ancient aliens and Chaos renegades

Growing up I was lucky to have access to a wide range of books in the house. My dad even had a copy of Fighting Fantasy's Starship Traveller! My dad was really into Star Trek, so I guess it must have appealed to his dream of being Captain Kirk and meeting glamorous alien ladies in constant soft focus.

He also had a couple of books by a certain Mr von Däniken and others of his ilk. I remember being fascinated by the ideas proposed in them, but at the same time thinking, even at that young age, "surely this can't be right".

It was later on while reading about Genestealer Cults in early Warhammer 40,000 that I recalled the absurd von Däniken. I'm uncertain whether the lore of 'stealer Cults was retconned soon after into them being the lurking vanguards of Tyranid Hivefleets, or whether that was there from the start. But in any case, I loved the idea that these sinister groups of aliens could infiltrate and subvert a planet's society, perhaps over the course of thousands of years, until the main baddies arrived.

This gave a great sense of the age, history and sheer vastness of the Imperium, which today has shrunk to the size of a city like Birmingham and horror of horrors, has an evolving storyline. Get out of my sandbox! Anyway, Genestealer Cultists drove around in pimped-up "Coven Limousines" and that was the coolest thing in all of 40k. 

As for von Däniken, I re-read the books and those of his followers and thought maybe the guys at GWHQ had read them too. They were bestselling books back then, and David Icke had embarrassed himself on Wogan talking about alien shapeshifters holding the highest positions in society. It was all there I guess.

Somewhat off-topic (sorry, you need to allow me a rant every now and then, it's my blog), but what really bothers me about these "ancient aliens" authors, is their insistence that earlier civilisations than their own Western one simply couldn't have built the complicated structures that they did. Instead, it had to be aliens, and it's interesting to note that an early Ufology subset of alien beings were tall blond creatures dubbed "Nordics". Going further, other authors skipped aliens altogether and claimed that ancient Mayans, for example, were actually European Celts. 

It's the kind of nonsense that gives me fond memories of the 40k setting actually being somewhat satirical and ironic rather than dreary po-faced straightlaced boredom with a crappy ongoing narrative about super-super-even-superer-and-increasingly-super-supermen.    

When being a Chaos renegade meant cocktail stick spikes on your head and random shit for arms.

So, Genestealer Cults were great and I managed to collect a fair few metal models of the various hybrids, a magus and even a Patriarch. All of which were bought at Games Workshop store "grand opening" events, because I could rarely afford full price models. Strange to think that £3.99 for four metal dudes in a blister pack was an expensive purchase back then, representing as it did a whole month of pocket money saved without buying candy sticks, 2000 AD or crack cocaine in the meantime. I'm currently writing a full post about these events, because some core gaming memories are contained therein.

Unfortunately, over the years much has been lost to me. I say "lost", but what I actually mean is "thrown in the bin in what seemed like a sensible decision at the time". Literally thrown in the bin. Boxes filled with epic scale Space Marine models. The original boxes of plastic Imperial Guard and Space Orks. Even the famous RTB01 Imperial Space Marines box. All that remains can be seen above. BUT! I kept all the metal Genestealer related models, which goes to show how much I cherished them, perhaps.

In another post I'll be covering a seminal moment in my gaming life, the Terminators & Tyranids boxset. In the meantime, you can see in the photo above all that remains of that box, too. Namely, two Tyranid Warrior arms pressed into service as goofy mutations for my Chaos renegades.

They're an "interesting" bunch aren't they? The guy second from right looks like he's saying "what? What's the problem?" after leaving his car parked on a dipped kerb. As for Mr Milliput-Blobhead on the far left, erm... 

Still, the exposed brain guy still looks pretty cool despite holding his left hand out for his change.

Originally I'd painted the plastic beaky marines so badly, and with heavy enamel paint to boot, that I'd needed to dig the paint off with a spade. The Blood Angel marines (more like Blob Angel marines in my case) thus became Chaos renegades for 2nd edition 40k. In fact, it's only while writing this that I remembered I'd intended using them as a bodyguard retinue of chemically and surgically "enhanced" (hmm) Chaos marines for Fabius Bile. By the way, the Fabius Bile model was so good that the modern version is basically exactly the same, just much bigger presumably. In fact, it must be absolutely huge because it seems to cost more than parking your car for half an hour at Bristol Airport.

What a disjointed mess this post turned out to be. But that's what happens sometimes when you're uncovering old memories as you actually write the damn thing and it turns into a series of misty-eyed reminiscences. But that's blogging for you. Anyway, I don't get paid for this and I don't have an editor, so go and puzzle over the mystery of who built the pyramids or something if you don't like it. Here's a hint for you, it was the Egyptians. OR WAS IT? Bloody hell.

The best skeleton models ever made

Most people my age seem to agree that the best fantasy skeleton miniatures of all time are Citadel's original plastic ones dating from 1986. And just for once, the amorphous blob known as "most people" is right. It was a kit that saw a very long shelf life with multiple different repackagings and minor additions or subtractions over the years, proof in itself of how good it was. Eventually they were replaced with a new plastic set well over ten years later, chunkier skellies with bulky weapons to match the scale creep of Citadel's model range at the time. They were not an improvement in my book, even if they were decent models, I suppose.

But skeletons should be morbid things of death and decay. Look at the skellies running amok in Bruegel's Triumph of Death painting, it's their angular and skinny appearance that marks them as deathly things of horror to the living. The replacement plastic Citadel skeletons look almost plump compared to their predecessors, have silly "evil" expressions like Skeletor and they have the worst attempt at a pelvic bone ever seen on a model skeleton. It looks like it's been put on backwards. 

The greatest model skellingtons of all time on the other hand, look better proportioned (within the limits of "heroic scale" models, the thigh bones for example are obviously far too short). You could imagine that if you were to peel the Bronzed Flesh coloured skin away from a Citadel human, there might just be room underneath for one of the plastic skeletons to reside.  Not that that matters too much anyway, I mean how many Space Marines could you realistically fit inside a Rhino? Probably one, at a push (assuming he took his pauldrons off first).

I bought my own box around the middle of the 90s for use in Warhammer Quest. They never did end up seeing the inside of a WHQ dungeon and inevitably, like everyone else, I mutilated them for various morbid adornments on Chaos Space Marines, scenery and such like. I imagine many people acquired boxes of these chaps just for that purpose. 

"Zombies by their very nature are inconsistent. Skeletons on the other hand, are very consistent." Alan Partridge, 1997.

I unearthed the tragic remains of my old skeletons in their original box recently. Piecing them all back together again like some micro-necromancer, I found I had more or less enough for use in Advanced Heroquest. Painting-wise I tried to match the colour tones in Bruegel's painting, with some success I think. Some had been broken up over the years for banner pole decorations and the like, and one in particular needed a new head. I toyed with the idea of leaving him headless because it would be funny/unsettling, but sadly it just looked like a broken model.

I settled on sticking one of the decorative Heroquest skulls on his neck instead. He was missing a jaw bone of course, but that's fine, those usually fall off when you're dead. His skull was wider than the others though, so I extended his lower spine to balance his proportions slightly, unfortunately making him look like a cross between the exaggeratedly stretched skeletons of Triumph of Death and one of Ken Dodd's diddy men. Ah well, c'est la mort.

To add some variety, or rather because some of these ancient dead were damaged by a cackhanded and careless younger me and the resultant blemishes needed covering, I thought I'd try making a couple that were slightly less decayed than the others. The central axeman therefore has remnants of dried out skin still attached, while one of the sword wielders has a nice head of hair made from static grass painted brown. I find that nothing accentuates the horrors of death as much as the vestiges of life stubbornly clinging on.

Despite being dead and animated against their will, skeletons are at least grinning all the time, it's nice that they stay positive.

Now, the next little project for my boney blokes, aside from repainting their bases brown, is a pink skeleton from the classic arcade game, Golden Axe. This being at the behest of my partner, who asked, nay demanded, I paint a pink skeleton with a "raspberry shield". And I have just the right miniature for it.

You see, Kitty (for that's her name, even if it sounds more like the name of a girl you'd find painted on the side of a 1940s aeroplane, which she'd have absolutely loved by the way) grew up playing Megadrive games with her brother, especially things like Streets of Rage. Thanks to the miracle of modern technology and games publishers wanting to squeeze every last penny out of their properties, we're able to play those games again via the Playstation. 

Aside from the aforementioned Streets of Rage, we've also played all three Golden Axe games. She was somehow particularly taken with the pink skeletons, hence her plea for one to appear in the dungeons of AHQ. I'm happy to oblige and you shall witness the results soon. On the other hand, we've also been regularly playing Dr. Robotnik's Mean Bean Machine, but I will not be painting several differently coloured beans as monsters for AHQ. No matter what she says. And that's final. Period. Nor will Dr. Robotnik make an appearance as a "Chaos Sorcerer".

No, AHQ is a serious game. Anyway, like I said, next on the agenda is a candyfloss pink skeleton with a raspberry shield. Bye for now.

Legions of Iron and Steel, DIE HARD!

Lyrics from Venom songs will always make good post titles I reckon. I toyed with using a line from Monty Python and the Holy Grail, like "there are some who call me... Tim?". But this post isn't really about Tim specifically, so I didn't (but it is a bit). Lucky for me I don't care about SEO. Damn, that reminds me, got to do my meta descriptions...

I was reading the latest post by "Oldhammer" blog royalty, Orlygg, and saw a photo of a smiling Tim Prow at Salute. Now, I remember a very young, long-haired, Metallica T-shirt wearing Mr Prow in White Dwarf oh so long ago. I don't know if he was ever into Venom, but he definitely should have been if he knew what was bad for him. That aside, his miniatures company is called Diehard, and it's great, proper old school stuff.

Not too long ago, I bought some Diehard miniatures and on receiving the parcel I was weirdly happy to see Mr Prow's name on the return address label. It gave me "cottage industry" feelings and I love to support that by buying stuff from them. Not to say that Diehard are in anyway "unprofessional", they are not. Actually, it was just a great feeling to receive something direct from a guy whose work I'd grown up with in White Dwarf. Hail Tim!

"Kovach the Devoured". Or perhaps, "Kovach in the Process of Being Devoured". 

Floating up above you can see one of the Diehard miniatures I've almost too-lovingly painted. He seems to be heavily based on, or a tribute to, a Warhammer illustration from the early 80s around the time of the 1st edition. There was also a Citadel miniature of the same character called Kardos Bloodhelm, a very early Chaos Warrior. So, he fits in very well with my other 80s Citadel leadmen.

He's been painted with pinkish armour, as I felt like using him as a Slaaneshi Chaos Champion for Advanced Heroquest. Being an old-school follower of Slaanesh, I thought about adding some text to his shield, like "BIG COCKS" or "do you like me, sex-wise?". But thought better of it.

However, I did obtain a couple of Ral Partha Chaos Warriors as sidekicks, because as we all know, a big bad villain needs his stupid sidekicks to mess everything up. Here they are:

I love these goofy idiots, pure stupid sidekick vibes.

Of course, despite being accident prone morons in the best tradition of villainous sidekicks, in the brutally unforgiving world of Advanced Heroquest they'll no doubt prove unstoppable immortal killing machines capable of insta-killing heroes by posing seductively or something. Assuming a fully armoured warrior, even a Slaaneshi one, could achieve such a thing.

Mind you, I don't fancy the chances of lobster-claw man. His lobster arm has already been cooked by the look of its bright red shell (I mean, I could have painted it blue/purple/white, but you know). My dwarf would just break it open with his warhammer and the elf could eat whatever's inside. But again, he's a dumb sidekick, so he probably cooked his own arm while making a pot of tea.

That is all. For now.    

Everyone's sick with the plague

It was my dad who painted all the miniatures for our games back in the day. With a white spirits filled egg-cup and enamel paints left over from his model aircraft days, he'd somehow paint entire sets of models in a single evening while I was in bed. I'd come down in the morning and find them lined up on top of the TV or on the sideboard.

He painted all of the miniatures from Heroquest (including the furniture), Space Crusade, Battle Masters and Advanced Heroquest. And he did that so quickly that we could pretty much start playing with fully painted models right from the start. That's quite an achievement in my book, and it added a lot to the enjoyment of the games. 

His paint palette from those days also continues to inspire my own painting style. Limited as he was by the colours he had available for military aircraft and 1:72 scale WW2 infantry, orcs ended up with olive drab skin and dull muddy brown tunics. And... they looked great for it. Of course, he was more or less following Mike McVey's painted examples around the sides of the box, but my dad's orcs in particular, with their dull colours and darker flesh looked proper mean and evil, dirty and filthy like they should be.  

Warhammer Quest orc archer, inspired by my dad's colour scheme.

Above you can see a recent-ish painted example of a Warhammer Quest orc which I painted in a similar set of tones to my dad's original models. Note the clear ancestry of this miniature descending from the Heroquest orc figures. Except that instead of crude (and no doubt very smelly) footwraps, this dude has Doc Martens on. By this point, Citadel's fantasy orcs had started changing overtly into thuggish "bovver boys". It's quite amusing I guess, but not to my taste to be honest. Today, Warhammer orcs have long since become blown-up caricatures of themselves (and they were already caricatures of "traditional" orcs to begin with) and I hate them. Sorry. But seriously, a modern orc's chin alone is bigger than one of Kev Adams's old orcs and has none of the cheeky malice or character. 

Moving on though, a note here on eyes, which brings me to the main subject of this post, sort of.

Back when my dad was working feverishly on the Skaven for Advanced Heroquest, he opted for painting them with yellow eyes. An interesting choice, and looked really good actually. Very animal-like. However, it's a proven fact that evil creatures have red eyes, without exception. The exception that proves the rule was my childhood cat, Tabby. He had green eyes, but, and I have to say this, even by cat standards he really was an evil little shit.

Tabby the twat cat. No photo of him exists where he wasn't genuinely and terrifyingly angry.

So, I departed from my dad's colour scheme there and went for red eyes for my Skaven, as is only true and proper. But again, my dad's Skaven were painted in the same old military enamels, and it's primarily this that inspired my feelings about what Skaven should look like. Mainly dark and grubby.

I mentioned in a previous post not liking how my Skaven looked with ratty flesh-coloured hands and feet, but for plague infected ratscum, I thought it might look nice if their fur had started falling out or something. So experimentally, I tried this on a plague censer bearer. Annoyingly, it looked really good and made me wish I'd done it for the other Skaven too. Especially as I painted a couple of plague related Skaven prior to this one. Oh well.

Only two of these rats are true plague worshippers, but the Night Runner on the right has a slight cold, so it's all good.

I have to say I was pretty pleased with the warpscroll in particular. It required the use of what my partner calls my "spider's foot" paintbrush. I'll leave you for now with the wise words of Trey Azagthoth from Morbid Angel, because it's extremely "Oldhammer". I just made a couple of appropriate corrections to an otherwise perfect lyric.

I call forth the (horned rat /ed)
I call forth the lord of plague

I am of the lost (and damned /ed)

Creatures of spawn of hate

Rejoice in the heaving earth

Praise the ripping sky

Rise spread disease
Consume their puny souls