The Witching Hour

A darkness sweeps over the crowd and stage, so black, its as if hell itself has been unleashed. The crowd watches in anticipation as a fog engulfs them. Two red beams pierce the darkness, and the sound of an orchestra triumphantly announces the coming of the four. And then it begins. War Drums shake the very earth on which the spectators stand. Demonic guitars wake the dead. This is wickedness. This is Armageddon. This is Thorn Fetish. HAIL TO THE SEVEN. HAIL TO THE SINNER.