After many long winter days and months of recovery a dark figure emerges from a blood stained bed deep in Devil's pocket in the old cabin of Hanging rock... He looks up at the slowly turning fan above and stretches. It had been so long since he could raise from his bed. All he knew was dried beef and deer jerky. And his occassions with his bed pan... It had been so long, and he felt weak still. He looked up at the t.v. that only shows static now... The old radio had blown a fuse apparently... And newspapers strewn about his floor from all the major headlines of hathian seem all but withered now.

The figure carefully got to his feet and began fixing his boots and vest on, adorned with belts, clips and tatters of many sorts. He began to limp his way to the front door and carefully relaxed into his old rocking chair on the porch. He sat there for quite some time letting the cool wind beat on his masked face... Letting the air creep in like cold tentacles into the eyes of his mask and onto his skin. After relaxing there for a good duration of time, he slowly stood up and began making his way into Hathian unaware of what has occured for the past 8 months. He thought to himself... His children have been gone far too long without his saints protections, and there is much to do...