In the desolate wasteland, a deafening silence was broken only by the sound of a horn call that echoed through the barren landscape. The sound grew louder and more urgent, heralding the arrival of the final Horseman of the Apocalypse, Death. Then Bob opened his eyes.
Bob's heart raced as his brain, in panic mode, struggled to process what was happening. The deafening sound of the horn filled his ears, making it difficult to think. For a moment, he had been certain that he was about to become the cannibals' next meal. But now, as he looked around at the frozen figures, he realized that he had been granted a reprieve.
The cannibals had always seemed fearless, their eyes glinting with hunger as they closed in on their prey. But now, they looked like scared animals, cornered and about to be slaughtered. Bob knew that the last remaining Horseman must be truly terrifying if even the crazed cannibals were afraid.
I mean, I probably should be running away in fear as well, it's fucking Death. The goddamn Horseman of the Apocalypse, Death himself, is here now. And Yet I'm not nearly as frightened as my brain says I should be. Fuck it, I've killed the first 3, how hard could the last one really be? There was a thought hidden deep within the back of his head that hoped against all odds that he didn't regret those words later, but he quickly dismissed it with a shake of his head.
Bob blinked and then the cannibals began tripping over themselves as they beat a hasty retreat. The sound of hoofbeats filled the air, growing louder with every passing moment. Odd that the sound of galloping is so loud on the sand. It must be some sort of intimidation factor. Cheap tricks to scare the cowardly. Bob's heart thudded in his chest as he waited for Death to arrive, half-expecting the Horseman to appear out of thin air.
As he tried to stand up, Bob's legs wobbled beneath him. He stumbled and fell to the ground, clutching his stomach as he fought against the nausea that threatened to overwhelm him. He had always considered himself somewhat of a brave man, but the arrival of Death had shaken him to his core.
As Bob scanned the distant horizon, a small figure appeared, dressed in a long, flowing black cloak. The cloak rippled in the wind, creating an eerie and mysterious aura around the figure. The figure's face was hidden by the deep shadow of the hood, leaving Bob unable to discern any features. In one hand, the figure held a scythe, its sharp, glinting blade contrasting with the blackness of the cloak. The other hand was tightly gripping the reins of a pale donkey, whose coat was the lightest shade of white Bob had ever seen. Death has come
As the figure drew closer, Bob could feel a sense of disinterest emanating from the figure's piercing gaze. The figure's movements were slow and deliberate as they brought the donkey to a halt a few yards away from Bob. The figure stared down at Bob, and Bob could sense that the figure was scrutinizing him, silently casting judgment upon him.
Before Bob could even say anything, a Mysterious Stranger clad all in white, everything covered except his eyes appeared a few feet away from Bob and Death. It was an extremely odd thing, even among the many oddities that Bob had seen in this world. The Stranger glanced at Death, a smile could be seen on the corners of his eyes, then turned his gaze on Bob, before reciting a bit of poetry.
"Behold a pale horse, and its rider is Death, But fear not, for he's just on his morning commute. He'll gallop through the fields, and cross the busy streets,
But never will he break a sweat, nor feel his heart skip a beat. For Death is punctual, and never late for work, And though his steed may seem ghastly, it's really just a perk.
No traffic can slow him down, no red lights can make him stop, He'll reach his destination in time, to punch the clock.
So don't be afraid of Death, my friend, for he's just like you and me, A working stiff with bills to pay, and mouths at home to feed.
He's just got a unique ride to work, and a job that's a bit more grim, But in the end, we're all just riders, on the horse of life and sin."
Bob stared at the Stranger, mouth agape in shock. This guy must be off his rocker. Only a loon, would make light of Death, while in his presence.
"What the fuck? Are you crazy? You realize that is Death personified, yes? Why poke the bear, metaphorically speaking?"
"Who cares? Why not poke Death? I am unafraid of Death. And he knows he can do nothing to me. Just watch."
The Stranger said with a chuckle as he gleefully skipped toward Death. He stopped right in front of Death and extended out his hand, grabbing the edge of the hood of the cloak. In a swift motion, he yanked the hood back, revealing the pale skeletal face of Death. The Stranger then stuck his pointer finger underneath the wrap covering his face and inserted it into his mouth, getting it good and moist with saliva before removing it. The Stranger then put Death in a headlock and gave him a wet willy.
Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon.
Bob's jaw hit the ground as he nearly passed out from the shock of the scene before him. The sheer audacity of this Mysterious Stranger confounded him. What kind of being has the balls to give Death a wet willy? Bob had just recovered from this when the Stranger laughed and pulled Death off his mount. Death hit the ground unceremoniously as the Stranger tossed him down. He gave Death a little head pat and then sauntered over toward Bob.
The Stranger extended his hand down to Bob, assisting him in getting to his feet. Bob hesitated slightly before grabbing the hand and clambering to his feet. Bob met the Strangers gaze and time came to a halt. The Stranger's hands moved quicker than Bob could follow, they came to a rest one on each of Bob's shoulders. Bob felt a strange power that seemed to flow out of the Strangers' hand to envelop him. A soft and faint blue glow came from Bob, briefly, before it vanished as if nothing had happened.
The Stranger laughed loudly, giving Bob a wink, before he vanished without a trace. A sense of vertigo overcame Bob as time snapped back to its normal flow. Bob swayed with vertigo, barely avoiding puking again. His attention was brought back to Death as he heard a rumbling growl of anger coming from the bundled-up folds of the cloak that Death wore. Bob took a few slow steps backward as he attempted to quietly flee the wrath that he knew was coming.
Death staggered back, reeling from the sudden shock of the wet willy that the Mysterious Stranger had just given him. For a moment, he felt humiliated and unsure of what to do next. Then he was overcome with frustration and rage. Death knew that he could do nothing to the Mysterious Stranger, who was untouchable to this avatar. And so, he turned his rage toward Bob, a nearby bystander who had been watching the altercation. With a fierce and terrifying intensity, Death lashed out at Bob, unleashing all the pent-up anger and frustration that he had been feeling. Bob cowered in fear, realizing too late that he had been in the wrong place at the wrong time. But Death was beyond reason now, consumed by his rage and his desire for revenge. At that moment, he was a force of nature, a destructive power that could not be stopped.
Death's anger was palpable as he swung his scythe at Bob, filled with frustration and humiliation at being unable to claim his real target. The intensity of the strike was almost overwhelming as if the scythe was bathed in flames of raw power. But to Bob's surprise, the blow had little effect on him. He felt himself being knocked back, but there was no pain. It was then that he realized the blue glow that had surrounded him, a gift from the Stranger, had faded back into his body. The power he had been granted had stopped Death from using his instant death ability on him, and Bob felt a surge of relief mixed with disbelief that he had survived such an attack.
Death growled and stared at Bob in disbelief.
"How did that not kill you? Damn you, Erebus. You are and always have been such a bastard!"
Death glowered at Bob before speaking again.
"It seems like now is not your time to die. Fret not, for soon you will succumb just like the rest. But I have a world to kill, you will be saved for last. I will feast on your suffering as you watch what is left of this world crumble before me. Then, and only then will I return for you. And I will make sure you die very slowly. I may not be able to harm Erebus, but I will harm you. In so many ways. Until then you shall remain locked in a dimensional prison as I deal with this world."
Death grabbed a black orb from beneath the folds of his cloak, tossed it in the air, and then began chanting while his hands contorted themselves in various ways forming arcane symbols in the air. The arcane sigils stayed in the air, dripping with black energy, and the excess energy collected on the ground creating a substantial pool. Bob felt pressure build in the air as it coalesced around him.
As Death finished the final words of the ancient chant, the air crackled with magical energy that built up around them. The gateway to the dimensional prison slowly creaked open, revealing a swirling vortex of otherworldly darkness. Bob, who had been struggling against Death's grasp, was suddenly pulled towards the gateway by an irresistible force. Despite his screams of terror, he was sucked into the vortex and disappeared from sight. Death watched with satisfaction as the gateway snapped shut, sealing Bob inside the dimensional prison. The magical pressure in the air dissipated, leaving behind an eerie silence as Death turned and walked away, his task complete.
Death remounted his donkey and rode off into the world to bring an end to life.
Bob floated through the endless expanse of darkness, haunted by the shadows of terrifying creatures. He could feel their presence around him, stalking him like predators in the night. His heart raced as he tried to navigate through the darkness, searching for a way out. The creatures' glowing eyes peered at him from the shadows, their sharp teeth glinting in the darkness.
Bob could feel their hunger and malice as if they were waiting for the perfect moment to pounce. He tried to shake off the feeling of impending doom and focus on his escape. As he floated, Bob was plagued by visions of the remnants of dead worlds that Death had previously been unleashed upon. He saw the destruction and devastation that Death had wrought, leaving nothing but desolate landscapes in his wake.
The once-beautiful worlds were now barren wastelands, stripped of all life. Bob felt a chill run down his spine as he realized the true nature of his predicament. He was lost in the realm of Death, surrounded by the shadows of the creatures he had unleashed. The visions of destruction and death only served to reinforce the gravity of his situation. He tried to remember how he had ended up in this dark and foreboding place, but his memory failed him.
It was as if he had always been here, lost in the void between worlds. He had no idea how much time had passed, but it felt like an eternity. Bob felt a surge of panic rise within him as he realized that he might never escape this place. He was trapped in the realm of Death, surrounded by the shadows of his past mistakes. The creatures were closing in on him, their teeth bared and ready to strike.