It has no face, no footprints, and gives no warning… it simply appears. A pale figure emerging from the darkness, cold to the touch and carrying the unmistakable aroma of Strata, El Dorado and Nelson Sauvin.
What is it? A 5.5% Pale... something wicked this way comes.
And what does it want? To fill your glass, of course. Tropical fruit shreds the silence, citrus slashes through the darkness, and a bitter, resinous finish delivers one final bite.
We’re not entirely sure it’s alive... but one thing’s for certain... TERROR HAS NO SHAPE.