“Okay, so you burned every church out there. Every last forest has been utilized for frost-bitten photographs of corpse-painted minions wielding medieval weaponry, invisible oranges, or both. You sang every hymn there is for either Satan, Tolkien orcness, darkness, the wilderness, or anything even remotely related to the above. What’s left to cover? Why SPACE, of course!” Into the blackness (of space).
