Creation Myth

Hunkered down in Wolfsauge bunker complex, the members of the anarcho-syndicalist collective slowly raised the armored periscope, looking in vain for a wayward craft beer delivery truck. Unable to see past the mangled, perversely disfigured dead bodies stacked like cordwood outside the flame-scarred entrance door, they decided to brew their own, driven both by an unconscionable thirst and an intense and relentless desire to create obsessively authentic beer styles. What you hold in your hand is the humble product of their efforts. Enjoy, or get bent.