Good evening,
I was an axe-murderer and professional outdoorsman before the outbreak, hunting demons from my cabin in the swamp. The whispers of the fallen are my muse, speaking to me through the serpents and the owls. These days I continue my trade as a naturalist, nihilist, terrorist and cannibalistic catalyst. I'm also quite mad.
If I have hewn you asunder or brought harm to your estate, I offer my sincerest apologies. I am merely weeding out inferior forms of humanity. I'm afraid that your feeble resistance only confirms my convictions. The world is moving on without you. We intend to kill every last one of you and destroy all of creation, violently and without remorse. No hard feelings, of course, it is simply our calling.
Ammunition is running out, needles are being squandered, fuel is depleting and buildings are falling into ruin. Your streets remain tainted with the blood of the fallen and you barricade yourselves inside of early graves. You turn on one another, fighting over possessions, property and status. In your attempts to maintain law and order, you invite only chaos and destruction. In the end, it will be your own stubborn ignorance that destroys you.
Immortality, it is our gift. Embrace natural selection and join us on our journey back to the primitive. Only the dead have seen the end of Gore Corps!
*pulls a gas mask over his face*
"Nothing in the cry
of cicadas suggests they
are about to die." - Matsuo Basho
"Here, where a thousand
captains swore grand
conquest...Tall
Grass their monument." - Matsuo Basho
Sacrifice to the Chilean Blob.
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Voluntary Offerings
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| Thanks to Mits, I was offered up to the Chilean Blob.
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