All I wanted for Christmas was a blistering slab of Lovecraftian death metal, a fitting sonic tribute to the cosmic horrors that lurk in dimensions beyond space and nightmares beyond hope. Letters to Santa were fruitless – curiously enough, his elves possess remarkably similar talents to enslaved Indonesian children, capable only of producing cheap clothing and poorly constructed knockoff toys – but through a curious series of unfortunate events, Sulphur Aeon heard my call and decided to fulfill a degenerate’s holiday wish. They toiled night and day, traveling far and wide from R’lyeh to Mars, from Innsmouth to the Earth’s mantle, and from the depths of the Mediterranean to the court of the blind idiot god himself, in search of grotesque inspiration. Finally, as they completed their latest opus, they dusted off their blackened sleigh, harnessed the greatest of the Outer Gods to propel them forth, and rode their demonic might from the abyss to fling “The Scythe of Cosmic Chaos” down my chimney in what can only be described as a Christmas miracle.
Iä! Iä! Nyarlathotep!