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Date Posted: 07:24:20 03/03/03 Mon
Author: Death Scythe
Subject: . The Final Hour .

...In the Final Hour...

Demon enters, slowly infultrating the lands unfamilar to him. Grunt escaped as he scan the loam for a familar face...but t'was to no avail. Vocals would so call the name o' she who hath called upon him...but 'e had no name to call. Heavy banner lashed against his well built flank, spikes twitched in slightly atop his elegant visage. Titanic frame twas lifted from earth upon high pillars, muscles rippling beneath his ebonite painted pelt. Locomotion doth remain slow, as he is fully aware he walks in the realm o' another. Frostbitten orbs continue seeking the familiar one...[Untouchable]...among the unknown string o' dark equids.

...Your Soul Will Be Mine...

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