(This original story is also a teaser for a new rp character Iโm bringing here soon!)
a collaboration with @patchs-muse-hub (tw: blood, gore, murder.)
Gather โround one and all, for I am about to tell you the scariest story in all the West. One that you probably never heard of.
One arid summer during the Old West, when the American Frontier knew little of law or justice. The Devil himself came outta Hell itself, riding on top of a red horse; flying across the stormy skies, reveling in all the meanness and godlessness.
He hooped and hollered atop the stormy clouds, smoke and flame coming out of his horse's eyes, and in his hands he fired into the air two black pistols. These black pistols were of Satan's own making, forged from the fires of wrath and quenched in the blood of saints, both having hammers of pure celestial brass. The one named Ichorโits name was engraved into the barrel with gold, and the other named Poison, was engraved with silver.
The barrel tips glowed white hot with every shot, the gun shot so loud it boomed like thunder and every bullet fired burned hotter than hellfire, going out the barrel so quick that it can cut through stone and spirit!
When the Devil was done, he rested on top of a mesa. After a time, he noticed his horse looked strangely spooked by something behind them. The Devil turned and there riding towards him, slowly coming out of a thick blanket of cold fog, was a manโor at least what looked like a man.
He looked like he crawled straight out of his own grave, his skin frost bitten blue with black finger tips and long hooked claws. He rode atop a pale white horseโbut not just any horse, it was a big hoss and so was its rider. He wore a very long tattered coat draped in elk hide covered in bullet holes, a blood stained sash on his hip with a black feathered stetson on the top of his head.
Following just behind him was a harrowing blizzard and freezing winds that sapped the desert heat like a rag. With eyes glowing an awful blue, he stared at the Devilโnever blinking, never wavering, and his cracked lips curled into a crooked snarl, revealing rows of yellowed, fang-like teeth.
Satan felt a chill roll up his spine, for he knew The Undertaker was here. The Undertaker tethered his horse and approached Satan, the ground lightly trembled with each step. And when The Undertaker was close enough, The Devil finally noticed that his feet were massive deer hooves black as night poking from his boots.
โWho dares wake me from my sleep?โ The Undertaker growled.
โI suppose I didโ The Devil shouted back, arms crossed and his chest puffed.
โI was celebrating with my pistols! Then you came along and seemed to ruin my fun! You froze everything, and now my horse is cold and her fire has gone out.โ
The Undertaker growled again.
โYou and your racket! Your gunshots carried across the hills and valleys to reach my ears, waking me from sleep! Go back to Hell where you belong yaโ olโ horny toad!โ
โSeems to me that we're cross!โ The Devil said with a huff.
โI wanna shoot my guns and have fun. And you wanna sleep. How do we settle this?โ
The Undertaker smiled up at The Devil, a wicked glint in his empty eyes.
โHow many men have you killed with those pistols?โ
The Devil jumped with glee and answered.
โPlenty! How about you, stranger? I donโt see any irons on you!โ
โI have killed men, women, varmints and all manner of beastly folk. I've killed just about anything and everything that walks, runs, crawls, flies, or slithers on this earth and beyondโand unlike you, I donโt need guns to catch my preyโ The Undertaker chuckled
โYou certainly are a bold man, son!โ Satan said, flicking his forked tongue at his strange and irritating visitor.
โFor I am Lucifer, I have destroyed kingdoms and toppled empires, I set Rome ablaze and danced in its flames while playing a fiddle. I fought with the angels and cast my brethren from the Heavens! I have killed far more than you ever wish you could, creature!โ
The Undertaker laughed at the Devil's boast.
โFine then, how about we find out who's really the better killer? I wager that I can kill ten times more than you.โ
โI'll take that bet!! And if I win, I can continue frolicking for as long as I want to!โ
โ....and if I win,โ The Undertaker responds, โI get to take your guns.โ
The Devil, though hesitant at first, but with a flood of confidence he shook hands with The Undertaker and both parted ways, agreeing to meet back atop the mesa in seven days.
Satan rode atop his blazing steed all across the country, killing whatever outlaw that was in his sights, one hundred men with one pistol and one hundred with the otherโeach shooting iron having carved notches on the grips to keep count. Seven days passed, and The Devil returned to the top of the mesa, where The Undertaker and his horse waited for him.
Satan marched to the dead man and his horse, showing him the notches on the black pistols, pride overflowing him.
โSo! How many have you killed?โ
The Undertaker didn't answer, instead he turned around and walked away back into the snow. The Devil laughed triumphantly, mocking The Undertaker thinking he had beaten him.
And then all of a sudden, coming back out of the cold, was The Undertaker carrying two massive tied blankets soaked in golden blood.
โLook here, Devil, see how many I've killed with my own two hands!โ
Satan took the blankets, both were full of something wet and very heavy. He looked inside, and what was in there turned the olโ Devil himself white as a ghost.
Heartsโpiles upon piles of heartsโangel hearts, the size of a human fist, some seemingly still attempt to pump the gilded ichor they were drenched in. It smelled akin to a butcher shop, like death had found itself a hole to crawl into.
โWhat are you?!?!โ The Devil asked, eyes wide with terror!
The Undertakerโs shadow lengthened over the valley like the antlers of a great elk, as he answered pointing at the blood soaked blankets and its contents.
โTHATโฆ.. is what I am! Now git!โ
In a flash of lightning, the Devil had fled and laying there at the Dead Man's feet was the black pistols. To this day, he rides still, on top of his white horse, an old black hat atop his head roaming the countryside searching for greedy souls.
And always on his hips are the beautiful, black guns from which claimed four hundred lives, now have taken a thousand foldโฆ