For many years I have navigated the world of the living and walked among the dead. I have seen people die of natural causes, old age, illness, anything that would harm the human body without outside interaction. And I have been there to personally take a life that was long overdue to travel to Death’s dominion.
Balancing the thin thread of life and death is no simple task that anybody can do; only those chosen from Death himself will be able to endure the constant struggle. Becoming Death would be a curse to many. I personally enjoyed being handed the tools to literally hold somebody’s life in the palm of my hand. One such life came to mind, one that took Death’s name in vain.
My sources had quickly gathered information on my next victim, a man who goes by many names. One such name was Haegard the Rotten. I’ve been told that he often takes up a drink in a tavern well deep into the forest.
It was time that I paid him a visit.
“Aye, they be rather anxious tonight,” I replied. “They must be sensin’ somethin’ nasty a’brewin’.”
“Stories tell of crows cawin’ when death be near, when the reaper himself walks among the livin’.”
I felt myself gaining an interest in continuing the conversation with the driver.
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