Jack Morgan
Skeletron Prime
This is a new writing project I've gotten myself into. Not sure how this will interact with my schedule for Wispy, but we'll see. And no, the name does not relate to the actual story.
Chapter 1
Ahem. Allow me to introduce myself.
My name is Grim D. Reaper. My friends call me Grim, and my co-workers call me Grumpy Grim behind my back.
I suppose the name isn't that far off, though. There's not a whole lot to not be grumpy about. I used to have a cushy job bringing the souls of the damned down to the big pit, ( I mean Hell ) but I got "promoted" due to some fancy schmancy new system they got running. Now I have to work with one of the most annoying jobs in the 9 Circles: Dealing with the Sin/Horsemen problem. Yep. Y'see, the two groups are supposed to be working together to plague humanity and whatnot. Sins working from the insides of the mortals, and the Horsemen working with outside forces. Only problem is, for some stupid reason that has to do with this guy named Conquest, the two hate each other. So I have to deal with it. It's a real shame about Conquest, too. I only met him once or twice, but he was bearable. He disappeared a few centuries ago, and hasn't been found anywhere from Heaven to Hell. And now the Sins and the Horsemen hate each other, but refuse to tell any of us whose jobs are on the line about it.
This particular day, I have orders from Big Red ( Or the Devil, if you want to be formal ) to interview each of the Horsemen. They all live in this big old building that supposedly dates back to the days of Adam and Eve. I honestly don't believe that, but whatever floats the boat. It's pretty empty inside. They keep a little furniture and decoration in their rooms, but the hallways are desolate. I enter the first door on the left, marked with a big "WAR" in red letters. I wonder who lives there. War's an odd fellow. Dressed in heavy gold armor, he always seems to think we're about to go riding into some battle. There's not a lot I can do to dissuade him, either.
"GRIM, OLD BOY!"
"Greetings, War. I have some questions for you."
"Shoot, buddy."
"Name?"
"Warius Velare."
"Age?"
"Few millennium. Lost track."
"Profession?"
"Don't you already know most these things? Anyhoo, First Horseman, War."
"Thank you for your time."
I didn't waste much time getting out of there. The next door I entered pretty obviously belonged to Pestilence. Not because of a name or anything, but the smell. Pestilence lay on his bed, groaning. Ugh. I pulled up a chair and got down to business.
"Hello, Pestilence. Few questions for you."
"Ugh... Go ahead."
"Name?"
"B-Bob."
"Age?"
"Can't remember."
"Profession?"
"Hurk... Pestilence, Second Horseman."
"Thank you for your time."
With that, I shifted back into the hall just fast enough to avoid a burst of vomit. Disgustion. I smoothed my robe down, and headed into the next room. Of all the Horsemen, Famine looked the most like a mortal. A very, very thin mortal, but a mortal nonetheless.
"G-Grim?"
"Hello, Famine. Few questions for you. Name?"
"Farious."
"Age?"
"Older than the others two, at least."
"Profession?"
"Eh... Famine, Third Horseman."
"Thank you for your time."
I swept back through the hall, but stopped at the large ornate doors that marked Death's office. Death was a prick. He'd been vying for my job ever since we'd met. Didn't matter which job it was, but he took every chance to make me look bad in front of Big Red, and was an all around smug jerk. Fortunately for me, he wasn't that smart. Not as much as me, at least. I entered the doors, returning the bald, tuxedo'd man's glare.
"I have questions for you, Death. Name?"
"Is that any way to greet your old friend, Grim? I'm Death, by the way."
"Shut up so we both can get paid. Age?"
"Not as old as you, old man."
"Profession?"
"A much better one than you. Death, the Fourth Horseman."
I promptly struck the ground with the end of my scythe, slipping down into the darkness I could use to report back. Usually doing that was considered rude, but I can't stand Death any more than five seconds. Or until he opens his mouth.
Whaddya guys think? You wanna see more?
Chapter 1
Ahem. Allow me to introduce myself.
My name is Grim D. Reaper. My friends call me Grim, and my co-workers call me Grumpy Grim behind my back.
I suppose the name isn't that far off, though. There's not a whole lot to not be grumpy about. I used to have a cushy job bringing the souls of the damned down to the big pit, ( I mean Hell ) but I got "promoted" due to some fancy schmancy new system they got running. Now I have to work with one of the most annoying jobs in the 9 Circles: Dealing with the Sin/Horsemen problem. Yep. Y'see, the two groups are supposed to be working together to plague humanity and whatnot. Sins working from the insides of the mortals, and the Horsemen working with outside forces. Only problem is, for some stupid reason that has to do with this guy named Conquest, the two hate each other. So I have to deal with it. It's a real shame about Conquest, too. I only met him once or twice, but he was bearable. He disappeared a few centuries ago, and hasn't been found anywhere from Heaven to Hell. And now the Sins and the Horsemen hate each other, but refuse to tell any of us whose jobs are on the line about it.
This particular day, I have orders from Big Red ( Or the Devil, if you want to be formal ) to interview each of the Horsemen. They all live in this big old building that supposedly dates back to the days of Adam and Eve. I honestly don't believe that, but whatever floats the boat. It's pretty empty inside. They keep a little furniture and decoration in their rooms, but the hallways are desolate. I enter the first door on the left, marked with a big "WAR" in red letters. I wonder who lives there. War's an odd fellow. Dressed in heavy gold armor, he always seems to think we're about to go riding into some battle. There's not a lot I can do to dissuade him, either.
"GRIM, OLD BOY!"
"Greetings, War. I have some questions for you."
"Shoot, buddy."
"Name?"
"Warius Velare."
"Age?"
"Few millennium. Lost track."
"Profession?"
"Don't you already know most these things? Anyhoo, First Horseman, War."
"Thank you for your time."
I didn't waste much time getting out of there. The next door I entered pretty obviously belonged to Pestilence. Not because of a name or anything, but the smell. Pestilence lay on his bed, groaning. Ugh. I pulled up a chair and got down to business.
"Hello, Pestilence. Few questions for you."
"Ugh... Go ahead."
"Name?"
"B-Bob."
"Age?"
"Can't remember."
"Profession?"
"Hurk... Pestilence, Second Horseman."
"Thank you for your time."
With that, I shifted back into the hall just fast enough to avoid a burst of vomit. Disgustion. I smoothed my robe down, and headed into the next room. Of all the Horsemen, Famine looked the most like a mortal. A very, very thin mortal, but a mortal nonetheless.
"G-Grim?"
"Hello, Famine. Few questions for you. Name?"
"Farious."
"Age?"
"Older than the others two, at least."
"Profession?"
"Eh... Famine, Third Horseman."
"Thank you for your time."
I swept back through the hall, but stopped at the large ornate doors that marked Death's office. Death was a prick. He'd been vying for my job ever since we'd met. Didn't matter which job it was, but he took every chance to make me look bad in front of Big Red, and was an all around smug jerk. Fortunately for me, he wasn't that smart. Not as much as me, at least. I entered the doors, returning the bald, tuxedo'd man's glare.
"I have questions for you, Death. Name?"
"Is that any way to greet your old friend, Grim? I'm Death, by the way."
"Shut up so we both can get paid. Age?"
"Not as old as you, old man."
"Profession?"
"A much better one than you. Death, the Fourth Horseman."
I promptly struck the ground with the end of my scythe, slipping down into the darkness I could use to report back. Usually doing that was considered rude, but I can't stand Death any more than five seconds. Or until he opens his mouth.
End of Chapter 1
Whaddya guys think? You wanna see more?
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