Thread: Deaths Door

He summoned The Shroud of Death which enveloped his body giving him streangth, power, and the mystic powers known to his mythos. As the sun fadded to the backdrop of the city. First thing on his agenda was to free the people from their long and suffering lives, all in which were over due to die. Most people last week who saw him might have mistaked him for something out of a story. His skull shaped mask, cloak, with heavy boots and gothic looking gauntlents that had sharp pointed finger guards. One Lord of the Rings nerd might have said he looked like one of those ring wraiths. Guess it depends on what kind of nerd he might harvest who would give reference to a book, movie, or game they might have played. In the end its all the same to him. He made his route local to decrease the suffering around him and ease his sleep, the less dieing around him the less ghosts, wraiths, spirits specters and others related to the like, would lessin the aggony of his dreams. Men, women and children with all the ailments of his brothers spread. Due to Deaths appsence no one was free. He came across family after family who were sick, missing arms from the crulety of war and no food to go around thanks to famine. Death carried no weapon or any form of device that would scare more people away from him like the last time. He did that just fine on his own with his atire. He kneed down to one family who had nothing left to keep them going and gently placed a hand on the brow of a dieing child. Doing so left a mark on the boys arm and soon rest would follow just the same. It was a slow process and without the network of Reapers for him to cammand, this was the best way of doing things. Death had just finished marking another soul to free from its torment when a man approached him, a thin man with ebony skin almost as dark as The Pit itself. His eyes were whited out from age and his cloths were old, torn and soiled to the point of no tollerance. Excuse me sir, are you the one? The rider my ma' told me about in those stories? The rider known as Death? He asked with a gravely, dry voice. You know of me old man? Do you not fear me? Death asked, his voice robotic and cold yet netrual in nature. The old man replied and nodded his head. My ma always told me to respect Death, never fear its comming and stand fast in the face of Death. Braver words couldn't be spoke old man, no you must not fear me, those who fear me are those who deserve to die. These people don't deserve their fate however it is my duty to give them the mercy of death. So what do you want of me? His eyes glowed red threw the skull mask as he looked upon this poor wreched man. Please sir, allow me to aid you. Let me help you free these people from their fate. I shall serve you as long as you see fit. He kneeled before him offering up his life. Never kneel to me old man, I am not your saviour, your maker or your master.. Death breathed in slowly and thought about it for a moment. He did need help to aid the weak and put the wrongs upon this world right. He needed an army and not just any army, he needed the army of Death. If his face could be seen right now he would be cracking a smile at the thought of putting his brothers into their place. I will allow it Samuel Creed...you will be my hand. Do you understand that if you become a Reaper you shall never know slavation. Death crossed his arms looking upon this old man who would be the first of his Reapers. You will be guided by some very simple yet strickt rules that you will never waiver from. You will forever be stuck in a world of Neutrality. I do sir, I have lived a long life that my god may never forgive me for. Make no mistake Creed, this is not a way to claim redemption to any god. That is not the case sir, I mearly wish to surve and maybe partake in a little vengence against your brothers....sir. This time the old man looked up with his white eye as if he could really see and Death could see the rage in his eyes. Give me this chance to aid you in the Reaping when the time comes to battle the other riders, I will join you in the fight. As much as I do appreciate your...guile Mr. Creed, that kind of anger would not suffice as a Reaper, if you wish to do my bidding you will know Mercy, Compassion, Understanding of those you collect. Your rage on the other hand, I will take from you. Death grabbed the old man by the hand and started syphoning the crimson color of rage that this man had held for so long. No sir, do not take my hate from me, its what keeped me going for so long... He pleaded grabbing the hand of death but it was too late. In a few moments the old man was feeling Different. His eye sight returned, his body was still thin and gangly yet he stood with ease. He could hear things, people, the wind, the sounds of crying all rang as clear as a bell. He was shocked and sadend by all he heard and the feelings he had before were just Gone. Death lifted him up to his feet from his knees, Death tilted his head downward. The old man followed his gaze to see the old man's body on the ground. I..I don't understand.. Only a spirit may do my bidding, in order to continue, you had to die. He explained then looked up to the old man. Your cloths are now that of death. He released the old man and waved his hand to show him what he ment. The old man looked down and saw that he did not wear robes like the men of old times but more like that of a priest. Make no mistake Creed, you may done the cloths of a priest but you are not one. You will guid the soules to the Judges, from there you go to collect the next soul no more no less. When the time comes I will summon you. Yes sir, I will start right away. From there on the priest known as Creed started walking the streets kneeling down offering release for their pain and sorrows being the most understanding and neutral as possable. Creed would soon be the first of many who Death would recruite to be his Reapers, he gave the same offer to those who felt rage, hate and all the various emotions that he could use against his enimies. What he needed next were allies. With the amount of souls being taken from the torments of war, famine and pleagues, he was surtine his brothers would be looking for anyone who bore the death marks.