Xaltwind
TheMushroomLord
Tlstiffl
Crimson Flame
Hari
meri
Scarface
Fetzen
JJ2000
kiibladeThere are entities that the human mind just simply could not hope to understand. These entities, some would call gods, were powerful beings that reigned over all things under their jurisdiction. They are the puppeteer, the clockmaker who made sure each piece of reality fit within itself and ticked smoothly. They existed long before humanity and would persist long after humanity killed itself off. These beings have many names, many realms that they rule over and many things they control and maintain within the mortal realm.
One of these powerful entities was one that all of humanity knew and feared. There was no escape for those whom this being came to visit, no chance for negotiations or games. They had many names and identities through the history of humanity. Thanatos, Yama, King Yan, Hades, Hel, but all these many names meant one thing- Death. Humanity had a way to personify Death and try and make it an approachable subject but no matter how they changed the names, no matter how they made up stories, Death remained the same. It was the end to all, absolute destruction. It's unavoidable and comes for all, eventually.
Death does not work alone, however. For even an entity as powerful as Death cannot be in all places at once. Under its control are millions and millions of reapers, psychopomps whose whole purpose is to gather the souls of the deceased and lead them to the after life, whatever after life that they felt suited the soul. Under Death's guidance, the reapers worked diligently and life was in balance. No soul was left to linger longer than they should and things flowed smoothly, until one day, it didn't.
It began as a normal day. Death sat upon their throne, instructing its reapers and casting them out where they would be needed. Its form was an ever fluctuating mass of black magic. Its features were never still, the magic changing its face every few seconds, each new face a new soul in need of reaping. Suddenly, its face flickered through faces so quickly, one couldn't possibly hope to catch a glimpse of the features. Death gave a wave of their hand, sending a reaper off to gather the souls of those who had just perished in the church bombing. The quick flickering finally slowed once more to its usual pace when it felt a harsh pull on its essence.
Death froze a moment, peering down at its form. Light magic was slowly coiling around its being, constricting around it like a winding snake. The face that Death was currently wearing scrunched up in confusion as they felt the strong pull again, this time almost ripping them from their throne. The reapers paused and stared at Death in confusion, unsure of what was happening. The magic continued to crawl up Death's form, encasing them within. Death grasped ahold of their throne as the magic began to engulf them. Death called out in anger and confusion as the world flashed white and they were ripped from their throne.
Death gasped and sat up. He was in some kind of cage or cell. Was he in a basement? There were magical markings that looked to have been burned into the ground around the cage and judging by the scent that still lingered, it must have been blood that was burned. Why was he cold? He looked down at his hands, finding them encased in muscle and flesh. Flesh? No, that didn't make sense. He didn't have flesh. An entity such as himself was too powerful for flesh. No mortal form could contain him.
He attempted to leave and return back to his throne where he belonged but as he activated his magic, he felt a harsh burning all along his body. He looked to his arms and saw runes and magical writing burning into the flesh. The more of his magic he called on to return, the more agony he felt as his whole body felt as if It was ignited. He cried out in pain in one last attempt at an escape, putting as much magic into his return as he could. The magic markings burned along his flesh, slithering up along his chest and up his face until he felt the pain within his very head, the agony causing him to curl up into a fetal position on the floor. He had no choice but to cease his attempt at returning back to his throne or else burn alive. What a thought. An entity such as himself, afraid of burning from the inside out.
“Ha! It worked! I wasn't sure the body would be able to contain you but looks like it's doing the job.”
Death peered out through half opened lids to see a pudgy man stepping up to the bars of the cage. The man was wearing a long jacket, no shirt, and jeans. He was barefoot with his long, greasy hair pulled back in a ponytail. His hands were in his jeans pockets and he crouched in front of the cage. He peered in at Death with a sick grin on his face.
“Release me.” Death choked out before he tried again with a sterner voice. “Release me.”
“No can do, Mr. Grim Reaper. I'm looking for immortality and who better to ask than a reaper themselves, eh?” the man gave a hearty laugh as he straightened to his full height, looking at Death who was still lying on the cold ground of the cage. This stupid fool thought he only had a reaper. He didn't know he had snagged Death itself with his stupid incantation. Surely all he would have to do is tell the man he didn't have a simple reaper but Death and he would see the error of his ways and release him.
“You don't seem to understand. I am no reaper. I am far more than that. I am the one who instructs the reapers and makes sure balance remains in the realms. I am Death itself. You must release me now so I may return to my throne and continue my duties.”
The man passed outside the cage and stared down at Death. He was very quiet for a long while before he finally spoke up, his voice dripping with sickly venom. “Even better.” He then turned from the cage and began to leave, heading towards a set of stairs in the corner of the room.
“No! Stop! You must release me!” Death gathered himself and grabbed a hold of the bars, pulling himself forward as he reached through the bars in a futile attempt to grab a hold of the man's jacket. “I can't stay here! Without me, there will be no death in the world!” The man paused at the base of the stairs and turned to look back at Death, that same sickening grin on his face.
“So everyone in the world is immortal until you make me immortal. I'll just let you think on it for a bit.” Then he turned and walked up the stairs. Death watched him go with despair in his eyes. Then the basement light turned off and cast Death into darkness.
One of these powerful entities was one that all of humanity knew and feared. There was no escape for those whom this being came to visit, no chance for negotiations or games. They had many names and identities through the history of humanity. Thanatos, Yama, King Yan, Hades, Hel, but all these many names meant one thing- Death. Humanity had a way to personify Death and try and make it an approachable subject but no matter how they changed the names, no matter how they made up stories, Death remained the same. It was the end to all, absolute destruction. It's unavoidable and comes for all, eventually.
Death does not work alone, however. For even an entity as powerful as Death cannot be in all places at once. Under its control are millions and millions of reapers, psychopomps whose whole purpose is to gather the souls of the deceased and lead them to the after life, whatever after life that they felt suited the soul. Under Death's guidance, the reapers worked diligently and life was in balance. No soul was left to linger longer than they should and things flowed smoothly, until one day, it didn't.
It began as a normal day. Death sat upon their throne, instructing its reapers and casting them out where they would be needed. Its form was an ever fluctuating mass of black magic. Its features were never still, the magic changing its face every few seconds, each new face a new soul in need of reaping. Suddenly, its face flickered through faces so quickly, one couldn't possibly hope to catch a glimpse of the features. Death gave a wave of their hand, sending a reaper off to gather the souls of those who had just perished in the church bombing. The quick flickering finally slowed once more to its usual pace when it felt a harsh pull on its essence.
Death froze a moment, peering down at its form. Light magic was slowly coiling around its being, constricting around it like a winding snake. The face that Death was currently wearing scrunched up in confusion as they felt the strong pull again, this time almost ripping them from their throne. The reapers paused and stared at Death in confusion, unsure of what was happening. The magic continued to crawl up Death's form, encasing them within. Death grasped ahold of their throne as the magic began to engulf them. Death called out in anger and confusion as the world flashed white and they were ripped from their throne.
Death gasped and sat up. He was in some kind of cage or cell. Was he in a basement? There were magical markings that looked to have been burned into the ground around the cage and judging by the scent that still lingered, it must have been blood that was burned. Why was he cold? He looked down at his hands, finding them encased in muscle and flesh. Flesh? No, that didn't make sense. He didn't have flesh. An entity such as himself was too powerful for flesh. No mortal form could contain him.
He attempted to leave and return back to his throne where he belonged but as he activated his magic, he felt a harsh burning all along his body. He looked to his arms and saw runes and magical writing burning into the flesh. The more of his magic he called on to return, the more agony he felt as his whole body felt as if It was ignited. He cried out in pain in one last attempt at an escape, putting as much magic into his return as he could. The magic markings burned along his flesh, slithering up along his chest and up his face until he felt the pain within his very head, the agony causing him to curl up into a fetal position on the floor. He had no choice but to cease his attempt at returning back to his throne or else burn alive. What a thought. An entity such as himself, afraid of burning from the inside out.
“Ha! It worked! I wasn't sure the body would be able to contain you but looks like it's doing the job.”
Death peered out through half opened lids to see a pudgy man stepping up to the bars of the cage. The man was wearing a long jacket, no shirt, and jeans. He was barefoot with his long, greasy hair pulled back in a ponytail. His hands were in his jeans pockets and he crouched in front of the cage. He peered in at Death with a sick grin on his face.
“Release me.” Death choked out before he tried again with a sterner voice. “Release me.”
“No can do, Mr. Grim Reaper. I'm looking for immortality and who better to ask than a reaper themselves, eh?” the man gave a hearty laugh as he straightened to his full height, looking at Death who was still lying on the cold ground of the cage. This stupid fool thought he only had a reaper. He didn't know he had snagged Death itself with his stupid incantation. Surely all he would have to do is tell the man he didn't have a simple reaper but Death and he would see the error of his ways and release him.
“You don't seem to understand. I am no reaper. I am far more than that. I am the one who instructs the reapers and makes sure balance remains in the realms. I am Death itself. You must release me now so I may return to my throne and continue my duties.”
The man passed outside the cage and stared down at Death. He was very quiet for a long while before he finally spoke up, his voice dripping with sickly venom. “Even better.” He then turned from the cage and began to leave, heading towards a set of stairs in the corner of the room.
“No! Stop! You must release me!” Death gathered himself and grabbed a hold of the bars, pulling himself forward as he reached through the bars in a futile attempt to grab a hold of the man's jacket. “I can't stay here! Without me, there will be no death in the world!” The man paused at the base of the stairs and turned to look back at Death, that same sickening grin on his face.
“So everyone in the world is immortal until you make me immortal. I'll just let you think on it for a bit.” Then he turned and walked up the stairs. Death watched him go with despair in his eyes. Then the basement light turned off and cast Death into darkness.