The Tiberian Sons Hell March to the Apocalypse
The year is 2030. War has desolated much of the Earth. From over the distant hills comes the deafening shriek of a thousand decibels of pure, facemelting, torsodestroying, jimmiesrustling metal. At the center of the sound are four sentinels of destruction, bathed in amber light and wielding instruments of sonic decimation: The Tiberian Sons. These four gathered together from the harshest wastes of our battlescarred planet. Two came from the tall, dry mountain peaks of the southwest guitarist Tony Pri
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