Snippet #1323990

Danse Mors, Death was stunned. He held the spot where Chilili had struck him and let out a howl of agony. "Ow!!" he said indignantly. He spun on his heels and glared at the back of the petty human. "OW!!" he said again, punctuating his point. He couldn't decide whether the assault was insulting or simply irritating. He couldn't see how he could have provoked such behavior. Usually a deal with Death was met with more ceremony and fear... not POKING! He rubbed the wounded spot and found the injury to his ego hurt more than the miriad of scars and injuries to the body. His host body had never known pain such as this and niether had Death. He would take this poking incident as the most gravest of insults. His mind was made up. He wasn't going to play nice anymore. Unfortunately, he could not call upon an army of the dead in his host body but he would find a way. He was not without influence...