aaaaaugh…
There you go. You like it? It’s sin-thetic fruit of the Zaqqum tree. Keeps me sane, buddy. Keep it going.
The troll continued to pull from it.
Who the hell is this asshat?
Please, ‘Asshat’ is my father’s name...
Disturbed the dead fellow read his thoughts, Murder flinched. His diaphragm reacted to the movement and caused him to hiccup and snort boiling, red hot magma-bile up his throat and out his nasal cavity. Part of it splashed onto the living hellhound pipe, it snarling at the startle.
KEAUGH! KHHHAEGH! KHUEEGH!
aaaaughhh…
RAAUGHRF!! RAAUHFFF RAUGHFF!!
aaauuughh…
It didn’t distract him long, however. He kept smoking - as putrid as the sensations sounded, his demon-troll-state found it pleasant, akin to drinking pints in a sauna. He gathered himself as his tears finally ceased.
As weird as this random encounter is tonight, the bassist can’t label it as a bad one. Thank you, Son of Asshat, for this… What did the guy say this was again? Better yet, who was this guy? What’s his actual god damn name?
Oh, come on, now!
You know me, buddy... Your band tried to summon me after you all did it for a game commercial, remember? You all wanted to see if I’d ACTUALLY help you order a good pizza if you managed to pull it off? I apologize, but I haven’t a clue what a good pizza would be... Any human food that makes it down here turns to ash once the dead touch it.
…?
I’m Death. You died not too long ago. God status keeps you golden, though - you aren’t bound here. Lucky bastard.
He hoisted his legs and propped them at the edge of the ferry, revealing a set of stocks around his ankles.
Looks like the both of us are cursed for now, though, aren’t we?
...
Ok. So. He’s dead. Murder kind of gathered that, himself. What an interesting factoid, “Death”.
Pops and buzzes to you, all those words?
The troll would rather keep smoking. Smoking’s good for you. Doctors used to swear by it, you know? They stopped that health-benefit narrative for Big Pharma-
Uh oh. You haven’t forgotten who you are, have you?
Uh, have you seen him?
He’s… Murder…?
Murderkrakish, the Lake-of-Fire Troll? Soon-to-be Gatekeeper of the Doomstar? And he loves eating bones? And hating himself, don’t forget that! Sulking is IN, baby!
…This might help; if you don’t remember, your name is William Murderface. Ring any bells?
..!
Oh, it was ringing many bells. It was as if Death had a bucket of ice water and dumped it onto Will’s head. Murderface stood up, eyes wide in shock he forgot such information, trying his best now to secure it into his mind.
I AM MURDERFACE!
Bassist of… A BAND! // My parents died of a MURDER-SUICIDE! //
I am a WARRIOR!
FUCKING CHRIST!
His jaw didn’t drop - it clenched. So hard, if he were still mortal, his teeth would crack. The smoke mix burned into scorching fire;
aaauuuuuggHHHH!!
Hyehhyehhyegh...
Your bull-man mommy’s not here, bubba. How about you join us on the ferry, instead of sulking at the lake crossings of lamentation and woe?
I promise we’ll bring you back before curfew…
Pipe retrieved, now being placed in a pocket,
We need to get some music back into your life.
He cradled the beast’s head, and looked at him with eons of experience. How can the macabre be so assuring?
Death understood - he’s complicated, confusing. Harsh. But underneath it all… accepting.
And incredibly disarming.
Death opened Murder’s mouth wide…
…and crammed his arm down his throat.
Easy! Easy… We need to… make sure… you’ve got one…
Thereeee we go… don’t be shy.
Relax… Open your heart up…
Ok, don’t move. Stay right there…
You’ve got a big heart for a troll, you know that? Try not to rock the boat...
After some blind searching, he hooked fingers around something, pulling the slobbery object out.
THERE WE GO! PHEW!
It appeared to be a coin, or medallion of sorts.
Here, Charon. Catch.
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