Under a funeral moon last night in Texas, the dark masters of the Evil Empire cast a frost-laden cloud of witchery and spells over the Texas Rangers. Rendering those pale riders of the morbid plains frail and aged, and drawing power from the depths on the haunted night, the Unholy Nine again claimed their rightful place commanding the ancient throne atop the writhing mass of rotting decay that is the American League East.

Their viscera-shredding powers growing stronger by the hour, the Empire’s Ancient Ones have again asserted their dominance over the American League’s wasted fields of pity and sorrow, despite the pervasive doubts of the weak-minded chroniclers of the Empire’s progress. Though now fallen from battle, one of his malefic tendrils twisted beyond mortal recognition as he assured the Empire’s ultimate victory with a sky-cracking smiting of Brocail the White during the eighth circle of last night’s blasphemous affair, the dark master Ktulu Sierra is being horribly celebrated by the screaming minions twirling about in necrotic delight amid the ashen, reeking pits of Gotham.

But the fiery wizard Ktulu Sierra was not the only hero of this blood-soaked victory on the fields of eternal punishment. No, legions! Raise thy chalice also to the thunderous exploits of the Blue-Lipped Demon, who sharpened his marrow-stained fangs once more on the lambs of inferior pitching. And drink of malodorous wines in the name of the Sheff of Morbid Potions, who concocted yet another bowel-churning meal of revenge and waste for his foes. Welcome with a cacophonous symphony of curdling cries Godzilla, who has recovered the forces which once lay dormant in his world-shattering hammers.

Legions, it was apparent from the very start of time that our slumbering lords and masters would arise once more and prevail on this night. Having banished the Boston swarms to eternal wandering in gloomy dead forests, the Empire drawing strength from their malevolent foe’s Northern lifeblood, the outcome on this night was but a foregone conclusion.

So hail, hail, ye tormented! The Empire, rising like a timeless plague from its slow, boiling incubation, reigns once more. Eternal woe, pestilence, and funereal mists be upon you, thou frail birds and pungent red hosiery of the East.

Fenriz is the mastermind of black-metal legends Darkthrone and a life-long Yankees fan. He covers Major League Baseball for Terrorizer magazine.