Fightflight
Member
@Don Valence
In his, the infamous Death's dreary home, where the black fog rolled in long waves, where the souls of the dead must pass through on their way to heaven, and where the demons of black and dark conjugate to go about speaking their devilish tongue, gossiping about over which god did this, and which myth beast did that, and did you see those shoes that the latest dead mortal walked by in? What dreadful things to lose your life wearing! Of course, with all of these topics, all of these different voices, filling the air with the grunts and the snarls and the cackling and whines, it all fell silent when one demon finally asked;
"Where's Death?"
The question echoed in the misty palace. A chilling wind blew, bones creaked, their noise free to be heard without the oppressive "voices" of the hell beasts. It was a few more moments before the skull-faced reaper, this "Death", dragged himself in, his robed now a tattered mess.
"It's gone." He said, his voice like the quiet crunching of frozen leaves under a winter boot.
"What's gone?" A demon asked after another long pause of silence.
"Everything." Came the answer, which whipped Death away from from his home, dragged him up, up above and beyond the clouds of Earth, forcing him to come face to face with both God, and the devil, as well as every other god in existence.
"What do you mean 'everything'?" Shiva, from the far left, asked.
"I mean everything." Death answered without a beat, "Everything has been taken from me. My ability to let people die, my teleportation, my intangibility -- All of my powers are missing!"
"Did you perhaps misplace them?" Apollo suggested, "Don't get me started on those times when I'll lose track of my sun, and I'd have to find it before the night is over. 'Panic' doesn't even begin to describe how --"
"I did not misplace them!" Death snapped, "Don't you see? They were stolen! My powers were taken from me right under my nose hole!"
And then all of the gods laughed at Death, making his bony face turn pink with anger. How dare they laugh at him -- Didn't they know who he was?! All of the gods thought that they were better than him, because they created, and he took away. Even the mortals believed that they were better off without Death. Those imbeciles. Death was just as important as rain and light and the hunt.
"Listen here and listen well." Zeus said, finally speaking up from the crowd of laughing gods. His face was sullen and serious. He knew the weight of this problem, "If someone out there has your powers, we will be blamed for people suddenly dying and somehow not dying."
"I agree." Bastet hissed, her ears flicked down in her annoyance, "Deal with this, Death. Quickly. It's your mess, after all. Go fix it."
"How am I to fix it? I'm powerless!" Death said with a snort.
"Again," Bastet said, this time with a smirk, "Your mess, your problem."
"There is a mortal who can help you." Ra offered helpfully. He was certain, though, that if Death had eyes, they'd be rolling in that white skull of his.
"A mortal!" Came the anticipated scoff.
"Yes, but this mortal is special. This, I'm sure. Here --" He conjured up and tossed Death a stopwatch on a chain, "-- The one you will want to seek will be able to use this."
Death looked the stopwatch over in his hands. How was this little device supposed to even help him?
"Oh, by the way." God finally spoke again, "You can't come back home until you fix this."
Death, before he could even protest, was sent crashing into a Venetian graveyard. Italy. Fantastic.
In his, the infamous Death's dreary home, where the black fog rolled in long waves, where the souls of the dead must pass through on their way to heaven, and where the demons of black and dark conjugate to go about speaking their devilish tongue, gossiping about over which god did this, and which myth beast did that, and did you see those shoes that the latest dead mortal walked by in? What dreadful things to lose your life wearing! Of course, with all of these topics, all of these different voices, filling the air with the grunts and the snarls and the cackling and whines, it all fell silent when one demon finally asked;
"Where's Death?"
The question echoed in the misty palace. A chilling wind blew, bones creaked, their noise free to be heard without the oppressive "voices" of the hell beasts. It was a few more moments before the skull-faced reaper, this "Death", dragged himself in, his robed now a tattered mess.
"It's gone." He said, his voice like the quiet crunching of frozen leaves under a winter boot.
"What's gone?" A demon asked after another long pause of silence.
"Everything." Came the answer, which whipped Death away from from his home, dragged him up, up above and beyond the clouds of Earth, forcing him to come face to face with both God, and the devil, as well as every other god in existence.
"What do you mean 'everything'?" Shiva, from the far left, asked.
"I mean everything." Death answered without a beat, "Everything has been taken from me. My ability to let people die, my teleportation, my intangibility -- All of my powers are missing!"
"Did you perhaps misplace them?" Apollo suggested, "Don't get me started on those times when I'll lose track of my sun, and I'd have to find it before the night is over. 'Panic' doesn't even begin to describe how --"
"I did not misplace them!" Death snapped, "Don't you see? They were stolen! My powers were taken from me right under my nose hole!"
And then all of the gods laughed at Death, making his bony face turn pink with anger. How dare they laugh at him -- Didn't they know who he was?! All of the gods thought that they were better than him, because they created, and he took away. Even the mortals believed that they were better off without Death. Those imbeciles. Death was just as important as rain and light and the hunt.
"Listen here and listen well." Zeus said, finally speaking up from the crowd of laughing gods. His face was sullen and serious. He knew the weight of this problem, "If someone out there has your powers, we will be blamed for people suddenly dying and somehow not dying."
"I agree." Bastet hissed, her ears flicked down in her annoyance, "Deal with this, Death. Quickly. It's your mess, after all. Go fix it."
"How am I to fix it? I'm powerless!" Death said with a snort.
"Again," Bastet said, this time with a smirk, "Your mess, your problem."
"There is a mortal who can help you." Ra offered helpfully. He was certain, though, that if Death had eyes, they'd be rolling in that white skull of his.
"A mortal!" Came the anticipated scoff.
"Yes, but this mortal is special. This, I'm sure. Here --" He conjured up and tossed Death a stopwatch on a chain, "-- The one you will want to seek will be able to use this."
Death looked the stopwatch over in his hands. How was this little device supposed to even help him?
"Oh, by the way." God finally spoke again, "You can't come back home until you fix this."
Death, before he could even protest, was sent crashing into a Venetian graveyard. Italy. Fantastic.