On the eve of another clash toward the end of the American Civil War, 1864, Confederates gather fireside. The air is thick and heavy with more than humidity as all worry they may be on the losing side, and consider recent defeats, and rampant rumors of Sherman's burning, looting, and worse. War has taken its toll on morale, and these farmers-turned militiamen are no wealthy plantation owners, but God-fearing and family-loyal, here to simply defend their own, their patch of farmland, and the right to live free.

Two men hold court and spin tales. Blustering Odell wonders aloud if they could turn the tide if only they had a stronger power on their side. His compatriot, long and lanky Cawlyer, scoffs at Odell's claims and is as chilled to the marrow as the other men, at Odell's casual mention of Mezikers, fearsome beasts bearing the likeness of Ol' Nick, or at least as close as might make most nightmares seem tame.

Cawlyer didn't have to like killing the enemy, they are merely men like himself, but he'd see this through and hold true to his deep-rooted faith, even if Odell lost his way. Their plight seems dire enough to beg the question, is God even on the side of these stalwart Southern farmers?

In the dark, wet, swamp the battle is joined. Confederates retreat among the twisted black lotus briars as the Union charge suddenly, mysteriously, goes sideways in a burst of unexpected violence. All Hell breaks loose, to the unnatural sounds of sucking mud, and then a diabolical hissing and clacking. What hope can endure in such dark places?