It was a wild night. A gibbous moon soared high above the storm-tossed landscape, revealed through tattered clouds as the wind howled and moaned its symphony of terror. The buxom sorceress Mordama toiled away, her beautiful but deadly features lit by the multi-coloured flames that licked at the side of her seething cauldron. Sweat poured down her ample cleavage as she chanted the grim archaic words of a long-dead pre-human race. The ritual was almost complete ...
