Counting the slow hours (oath of the hunter)

I wait as I stare at the ebony blackness of the night. The moon hangs in a foul manner as it illuminates the eyes of the dead. Whom shamble back and fourth in front of my haven. I await their appetites, I aim to please them with lead and and steel. If they are still ravenous then I will become more furious in my attacks then before and until every last broken and destroyed body belonging to those who roam the earth once more in need of flesh is piled high...and incinerated, I shall not find rest. I fear not death...nor do I fear the beasts...I fear becoming that which I have striven to destroy. Heed thy call oh children of the damned, for my challenge is for you to bring me to my death...I shall destroy all of them...or as many as I can...This shall be my last stand.