Yes, yes! The dreadful invincibles return! The Old Ones! Ha!!!


Lost for aeons, now revived, the mighty ancients slumber no more!

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Glory, O, the Old Ones, unshackled at last, surge forth, impossible gods, rise! They are free!

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Time in its arrogance could not banish you, the Wardens Of Old! Ha, go! Drink the road, burn me clean, rain your rancid vapor on the ecstatic disciples!

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Behold the thirsty elders, beltless titans, beasts of metal—reap and redeem! Yaaaahhhh!

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Witness now the Hooded Sentinel ride in triumph to deliver savage testimony: the Old Ones, deathless masters, they who drank the roads in ages past, they who slept in hidden prisons, who the witless skeptics swore were gone, now burst upon us, loud and insane, shrieking their primordial Song Of Engines beneath a gleaming metal moon.

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Enter, enter, you craven Valkyries! Betrayed and captured long ago, now vengeance is yours, O unkillable champions, release me from sense, reap and redeem in the infinite toxic parade, you ancient wardens who pour rancid sludge in the very pupil of the world’s eye! Yes, I am your passenger, Old Ones, ride! Eat the cowards, drink the road! Reap and redeem! Onward! Ha!!

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