When the elders recall the stories of old, the young dismiss these tales of fancy as whimsical sayings from their elders. Sayings that don't take hold until the night when they go searching for these myths, and what was once something to be laughed at becomes something to be afraid of. When their friends go missing or return battered with strange, mysterious wounds. There was a tale told to me by my elders. A tale I dismissed as merely a story designed to frighten the young into behaving. A tale I thought was just that, merely a tale. I could not have been more wrong, and if I hadn't listened for the mere enjoyment of the story I would not be here to warn you. A warning that few of you will believe, a warning that even fewer will heed, but a warning that needs to be sad for those souls that will hear it, and will take up the cause.


He has arisen. And he is coming. I fear it is already too late, but we must fight, for if we don't then we will surely be lost...