| "No-one will survive and their remains shall become my works of art!" UNDEAD ROOSTER |

| "That is not dead which can eternal lie. And with strange aeons even death may die." H.P. Lovecraft |
| The sound of chopping could be heard coming from behind the old farm-house. She eased around the rear corner of it cautiously and stopped stone cold with gut wrenching fear. The coppery stench of blood was thick in the early evening air and she could now hear the buzzing sounds of countless blowflies. The undead rooster was on top of a gore covered human torso lying across a wooden block, hacking away at it with a hatchet. She made a slight almost inaudible whimper and instantaneously the small, horrible creature before her spun in her direction and hissed. |
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