Merry Christmas to you, stranger.
I hope you find your accommodations fitting, as this chill night does find us harshly
out here.
What's that, you say? There is a storm coming?
This I have known. For you see,
That storm in the distance is of my brewing; that fear in your eyes now is of my doing.
So go, tell your fellow man this news:
My storm is coming, and coming soon.
It shall not seek out females nor children but
It shall hunt down the pigs of man such as yourself.
Now you ask, who am I but man, like you?
WRONG.
I am neither man nor dead; neither Satan nor God.
What I am is the protector of the broken, the decrepit; the beaten.
What I avenge is the casualty of man's wars, and his foolish tampering with my balance.
So go, tell your fellow man this news:
My storm is coming, and coming soon.
















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