Still lingering in creeping holes and cellars are oozing rituals upon perceived blood thrones and smeared visages on walls and heads. Hymns come tattered and frothing from the mouth in both ancient and modern derelict languages — eyes pinned back, choking venom from bile, excreting memory. Unspeakable thought becomes reality, drenching a kneeling mass in virgin cum and blood. Once the body is split, everything pours out, and The Communion feast begins at the feet. Upon the alter rattles a severed head soaking in a vat of toxins. It’s raised by two hands and used as a baptism device among the starved, gorging themselves asleep. Everything happens underground, so getcha “Stirrups” and explore! While you’re at it, snag a Prison Tatt.