This is the tale of the tragically inclined young man who unfortunately becomes an apostle of the God of Death while all his friends become servants of the good Gods!
This is a story of how his peaceful childhood comes crumbling down in the utmost b...
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My mouth spoke before I could think and instantly I recoiled against what I had just spoken snapping open my eyes to end the illusion.
What!?! What did I just say???
When I looked down I could see that the shovel I gripped tightly with both hands was pulsing with blood red cracks which extended into my hands and forearms, I instantly let go and cried out.
"WHAT THE HELL?!?"
Shakily I wipe my forearms and hands and I see that the red lines slowly dissipate.
"Izmus, what the fuck was that?"
Izmus:(You said you wanted to feel something.)
"I meant sad, or upset! N-not, not that... That was your fucking meddling, I didn't feel that you shit!"
(All I did was enable you to listen to your internal feelings.)
"What?"
(While I did help enhance the scene you saw, I didn't put any thoughts in your head, everything you felt came from within you.)
Shakily I scratched my head in frustration.
"What the hell were those red lines then?"
(The Power of the Dead.)
I scoffed. "Gonna need a bit more info than just that."
(There's power in emotions and people tend to feel the strongest emotions at the point of their death, as a gravedigger you experience a bit of that emotion with each burial and it becomes attached to you.)
"Are you saying those red lines were power?"
(Pretty much, when you went into your mind you began to relive the emotions of each of those deaths, and you have experienced many more deaths than most.)
I clenched my fist and grabbed the shovel from the ground.
"You're pretty fucked up Izmus."
I denied Izmus and yet my voice from before echoed in my mind.
'Powerful. I feel powerful.'
Lies, he's lying, there's no way that feeling came from me. I looked coldly at the diseased bodies lining the street and the bloody image from my mind flashed briefly, I grimaced.
I couldn't allow these bodies to sit here any longer.
I went to the nearby stable and took out one of the horses and a cart, I didn't ask, I just took them. I then went through the streets with the horse piling bodies onto the cart as I went.
Sometimes I would see townsfolk looking through their windows at me when I picked up a body in front of their homes.
They would nod at me and thank me through the window, sometimes with tears in their eyes. They appreciated that I didn't leave the bodies out to rot I guess.
