An eerie green light soaks the landscape as the witch moon rises. Hung like a jewel on the throat of heaven, it hangs obscenely in the blackening sky, defying all eyes not to turn to her. Fingers of shadow crawl across the landscape as she ascends to her pinnacle. In her feint warmth, the day sleepers rouse — their hunger driving them forth with a cadence that beats hard into the dark. They pour from their maws in the cursed earth, scattering into the darkness pooled thick under the ruins of once proud temples of commerce. They keep to the blanket of dark she provides them. For as strong as their appetites are, they dare not be found by the true masters of the night. I can smell them before I see them — thick like burning tar mixed with the sickening sweetness of rotting almonds. It is a curious combination that collects on the palette and rides through you with an electric current that screams through every pore. In an instant, the primitive part of my mind remembers what evil smells like and my hand tightens its grip on my weapon. I lean heavily on the foot thick wall of concrete and rebar at my back and steal a glimpse at the creatures. My mind aches and my mouth parches. The icy grip of horror is beaten down as my training challenges me back into reality. They stand so still, you could almost mistake one for the obscene madness of a sculptor's chisel. In the lurid green of the moon, it is their eyes give away their sinister origins, more so then even their rotting slick skins. They stand almost as tall as a man and a half, rippling with sinews of muscle tougher than steel, and claws that rend flesh. Their angry maws snap and grind as they hunt amongst the shadows, their minds ablaze with dire intentions. It is their only wanton desire to spread chaos and terror to pave the path for their lord and master. It is an frightening sight to see such abominations and not hear them, for they moved without making a sound. The elders said that was how the devil came into our world, as a hushed whisper, not the clarion trumpets of the angels. It was laughable then, but as I see their sinister grace, it is all I can do not to cry out in horror.