The beasts arrive in waves.
All are slain, infolaser rounds exiting their bodies from obscenely large wounds before extinguishing.
Newer arrivals slip in the omnipresent crimson.
Primitive weapons clash against one another as they fall to the ground.
Wails of understanding.
The mass of corpses threatens to pierce the ugly sky.

A pale dwarf-wraith keels over, fatally injured.
Mouth gaping, revealing long, curved and yellowing hook-like teeth,
It vomits a chunky white substance with the texture of curdled milk.
It foresaw this long ago, but now cannot believe.
Crimson patches darken a miniature black cloak.
Small hands clutch at the brumal air.

The psychedelic round of energy rips through the body of the screaming ghoul,
Rending its thin flesh and removing a large section of its crooked and winding spine.
The monster howls further, levels reaching deep into the red and clipping.
Blood surges from its wound.
A gentle hum: negative space.

Instrumental

Bodies lay upon bodies.
Soon the sun will rise, soiling them with clinical certainty.
Compound eyes and black carrion wings will
Serve as a dismal reminder: even from death,
Indeed particularly, life emerges.
But now, waning moon reflecting in slick blood,
Far from light's harsh betrayal, there is peace.

A bipedal humanoid rat releases a sandpaper-throated
Screech as most of its internal organs exit through a huge hole in its furry back.
Large and small intestines launch forth in whip-like arcs,
Briefly straightening into perfectly even ropy lines.
A massive snail-demon explodes into fragments of confetti:
Red, green, blue.

The voidpistol's infolaser rounds crackle and lash through the air.
There is a clatter of blade against blade.
Theta waves falter, move to delta.
Crimson blood bursts from endless lesions
In thick snake contortions against the mournful snow.
Pain ceases localization, becomes something indescribably vast.
Life grinds into death.