Upon a midnight dreary,

three fiends of the darkest persuasion were bearers of grievous news.

Their beloved haunt was set on demise...

Thy overlords who had done them a many torment had not been true,

and the crypt was to be overran by the beige skins of the most foul.

The fiends where penniless, and only had their united strength,

they pooled their earthly things and plotted for a home they could call a safe place,

where fellow strangelings could dwell, could share the art and beauty of the macabre,

a place of curious and intrigue but also a lets not mistake a world where self expression was accepted where one could tread in attire befitting ones greatest of imaginings.

The 3 combatants had many an ally who helped them; they bonded and quested for a new Appellation,

the ideations began and the repartee was stealth and upon the dawn of abandoned defeat the new handle was spoken, and written into the blackened souls of the fiends. 

During the infantile stage of development a plague struck the lands,

it threatened, the unions of souls it pushed and gnawed at the very fibers... a fledgling fellowship built on devotion was pushed and pulled,

its very threads drawn so taught, but it would not subside... NO! 

Will made from grit and determination and a quest to be...

It pulled at the invisible realms and generated a digital identity,

and then forged its voice to the masses...

Those of the same kind heard the call,

they crawled from their hiding places and rallied to the cause,

a space of substance had been built a haven for those who followed their own beat,

a place where they could feel welcome.