Don't Fear The Reaper

A brilliant, golden glow rose up from below the level of the counter, and the ceiling above quickly warmed into hues of pink and tangerine. The restless light became more intense by the second, when suddenly there came a muffled cough from the vicinity of the floor. Adjusting my bowtie and straightening my hat, I slowly leaned forward, arching my torso above the patient cash register, peering with outstretched neck, right over the edge. Barely two feet tall, there stood a little sun, its arms and legs and three-fingered hands simple and cartoonish, with dark, dark eyes and a small, worried mouth. It had no money, no friends, and no home. And I knew instinctively it had come for my soul.

First Incarnation

He began his existence as a lumberjack, in the foothills of the Jarnegog Mountains. There was a terrible accident, a landslide or a great pile of logs bursting free of their chains, and his body was horribly mangled, yet death would not claim him. The other men knew the witch at the foot of the mountain, had seen the smoke from her chimney many times, and bore him to her. "Save him," they pleaded, and she ordered them to lay him upon her stone table, around which the house must have been purposefully built. Then she locked the men out, and set to work. The wounded man, whose name was Ellsgraven, could be heard to moan and shriek for many hours, but by dusk the witch's door reopened, and the man stepped forward, intact and unblemished. In the days that followed he began to dream of a darkness, one that could speak and told him he could no longer die, that the witch's touch had woven a rare and powerful magic into his tissues. He became sleepless with terror, and dug himself a deep ditch, demanding that the other lumberjacks bury him with heavy shovelfuls of soil. When they resisted he lashed out, attacking them, showing his madness; and, fearful and angry, the men on the mountain finally bound Ellsgraven with ropes and carried out his insane request. Days passed, then weeks, and at the season's end the loggers moved on, the story of Ellsgraven fading into a campfire tale. Winter took over the mountain, locked the land in frost, and the sun became scarce. But the following spring when the air warmed once more, and the streams began to flow, so did the soil of Ellsgraven's tomb begin to move. And even as the first spring shoots appeared, the hand of Ellsgraven reached up into the living world, shreds of rotted rope falling free of his gaunt fingers. What happened after that is well-known to those who survived the war: how Ellsgraven the Earth-Eaten began his cult of the Arrachs, tearing the mortal hearts from willing converts and using his magic to rebuild them anew, until at last his deathless circle united to summon forth an apocalypse incarnate.

New Quarry

The great, black panther separated himself from the hard earth with a thundercrack. Bits of cold carbon rained down as he shrugged his shoulders and surveyed the unbroken night-plain expanding in all directions. A brilliant gazelle of an Idea stood out there, lazily looking back in his direction. Von, the panther, split his jaws into a lolling grin. Bent his long limbs. Gave chase.