Madness rides the star-wind…claws and teeth sharpened on centuries of corpses…dripping death astride a Bacchanale of bats from night-black ruins of buried temples of Belial….Now, as the baying of that dead, fleshless monstrosity grows louder and louder, and the stealthy whirring and flapping of those accursed web-wings circles closer and closer, I shall seek with my revolver the oblivion which is my only refuge from the unnamed and unnamable.
