Angol
As vultures turn counter-clockwise in the sky, as evil planets appear in the firmament and the anchors among the celestial bodies reverse their orbit - as blood and human body parts rain down from starships emanating from the subterranean heavenly planets, the planets of the ghosts and the hellish planets themselves, so extinguishing the sacrifical fires of the sages, by all these signs you will know that we are approaching. The undead - the monarchs inhabiting the despotic helm of the Court of Ahaz - the evil kings and queens of old, the warriors of renown. In days of yore we were known as the Rephaim but now we possess the bodies of those administering this wamphyric house - three-hundred and thirty-three evil spirits to one possessed, undead uncaring "walking death" flesh-body wamphyr - often more. Those who seek human identity in such entombed fleshly vessels do so in error for it is only us so inhabiting - wave upon wave, rank upon rank.
We issue this dark summons only to those who genuinely resonate with the inhumane - those who lust with black, fanatical will to hold aloft accursed swords of total death - recreating this earth as cemetery. Dark stars call, shadow planets leverage their hideous grasp obsessing, possessing. Our black hand is upon you. Cross the barrier, step through the passage, embrace that hitherto forbidden. Immortality awaits in world aflame.
