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On our death bed we long for the loving greeting at Heaven’s Gate. For many, however, the welcome mat has long been awaiting our footsteps to fall in the cold eternal blackness. The door is open for all who sin…will...
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Weary from endless aeons of reaping, Old Father Time swaps his scythe for the delicate, muted strains of Death’s dance macabre. The faithful dead revel in the joy of their untimely demise as the song plays eternally.
Wings of charred sulphur envelope the suffocating heat burning from within this dragon’s belly. Molten lava seeps from every crack along her body, dripping to the ground where furious flames whip and lick at her feet.
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