One Foul Step from the Abyss

The Feast of Fools, 1308. As January slipped into the grip of winter a leather leash tightened round the throat of fate. Amidst the flock, disease and dementia, night was blighted more than ever before with screams of lust and obscene adventure, and scenes of raw debauch. The darkness was aroused with every kiss, and all who fell under it's spell were one foul step from the abyss. One foul step from the abyss... One foul step! Scared villagers there in All Hallows Fair feared the templars and their Queen. For Lilith compared to a royal nightmare when she steered their tempestuous fever-dreams. The beast was loose and beauty party to the horrors of this sonorous whore. A seducer, Medusa, a frozen Hecate cloned! Stealing seed, her needs were like a cancer, growing stronger with each whimpering dog. Knelt before her, thirteen necromancers called from desert sands to this land of opportunity. The darkness was aroused with every kiss, and all who fell under its spell were one foul step from the abyss. One foul step from the abyss... One foul step! Love was drugged by a copious vendor, a train of servants for her decadent games. Purring on rugs in fugs of opiate splendour, vain Lilith spread her wings again. Stars they gasped and comets in ovation lit the towers, their very presence declared. They watch with lust, despair and veneration for the Goddess seated naked there. The painted eye of the storm! Plagues of sin, played to win all hearts and souls in thrall. To her embrace, her fatal whims, desire meant to conquer all. Until that fateful day, 1308, with a force blessed by the Kings of Hate. Facing winter gray to disintegrate once noble halls. The villagers in a belligerent horde, fraught daughters fanning flames rose like pillars for their militant Lord, thoughts of slaughter haranguing hot veins! They assailed the fort beyond the woods, as the howling broke on the stroke of midnight many lost their sanity at what they fought. Amidst those walls, the creed of dementia annihilated by sheer weight of the surge. Put to the sword, freed from their calenture, the great estate was given straight to the church. Of Lilith, no limb ranked amongst the dead, but that she drank the blood of many men that dark night it was said.