Slithering from the tunnels, blue slime

bursts upwards out of a hundred holes.

The wash ejaculates in thousand feet high pillars

appears to hover then plunges back to earth

flooding the streets

City dwellers stand transfixed in their shoes

or are washed away in the forceful deluge

Remaining folk watch in awe, wondering

if home was a place they would see again

In the sky path of the pungent rain

the army of the dead arrive in numbers

They come from the South

forming a black saltire above the city

A battle craft carries their leader

It hovers over the large cathedral

The blond being descends, turns and speaks

I, Wrath take the keys

The unclean will be swept away

All who shall live with me

shall prosper, the others shall perish

His eyes blaze round like a lighthouse beam

At that, the slime clears back to the holes

and the troopers take to the streets

No one goes home or questions the order