A Rathskeller deep in the forested woods. Night has drawn its blackest curtain across the outer world, blocking out even the niggardly light from the stars.
Rain hammers against the windows and lightning cackles in the air.
A troupe of men with faces that seek the shadows meet in a corner booth away from the gazes of the other inn patrons.
They speak in cautious whispers that they wish no other ears to intrude upon: Read more Trumpenstein Horror Now Threatens Republicans