The game of death knows no bounds.
He is on our tail.

The flotsam of his being approaches.
Light slaughters the darkness.

The warm breeze is but the reek of his presence.
He is watching.

Killing is inevitable.
A whirlwind of shadow is upon us.

The fallen have passed into eternity
Those waiting, project their shadow.

Life is the realm of fruitless combat.
The dead have seen peace.

Victory is a degenerate passion.
Survival is glory.