The being with rotted flesh,

stands at the gates to Humanity,

with eyes aware of his existence and purpose.

He can smell Murderous Thoughts and sweet False Hopes.

Gun shots go off in his direction,

but he doesn't die for he is already dead.

With a screech he spreads his black wings,

commanding an army of Howlers and beasts.

Tearing flesh and crunching bone,

the being executes all that stand,

until he and his League are all that is left,

and a Howler's City he will command.

No Murderous Thoughts or False Hopes,

will permeate his civilization and destroy peace,

for Humanity is dead.