milliways_bar | (no subject)

The front door flies open with a loud crashing discord, and something hurtles through at a tremendous pace.

The first impression is one of speed, then one of... OK, no, the impression is only really speed right now as a black and white blur shoots into the bar in a whirl of blue light. It's only when the blur spins and skids across the bar, knocking tables and chairs flying even as it decelerates rapidly, that you can make out a shape.

And you'll probably wish you hadn't.

Take two perfectly ordinary cartwheels. Sling a horse's saddle between them and add a curved piece of piping above the front one. Stick a horse's skull in front, and decorates the rest with feathers, beads, black roses, and most of the rest of the horse. Although why anyone would want to is not really answerable in this entrance post.

The rider of this strange contraption is not wearing a helmet, and if he were, he wouldn't be able to shake uncut unwashed black hair out of it. He is, in fact wearing his normal black cape - which was freshly laundered this morning. Ultimate dark doesn't stay ultimate dark by itself, you know - but over the top of that is another robe: a long, black leather one, borrowed from a wizard. On the back, in leather studs, is picked out the words BORN TO RUNE.

OH BUGGER, WRONG TURNING. SORRY.

[OOC: Kay, this is how it works. Once in a lifetime opportunity to thread with the Pale Rider onna Bike. I'm going home now, and out drinking later, but I WILL pick up any and all tags. So have at!]

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

"Ah." Felix mulls that over for a moment before asking, "Why do they expect it?"

TRADTION, he explains. THEY LIKE DEATH TO LOOK THE PART.

Blink. "Does that mean that you are Death, or that you want people to think you are Death?"

I AM DEATH.

"Ah." Blink. "Of course, you would probably say that if the other were true, too. Nevertheless, I'm more glad to meet you here than on Weyard."

He inclines his head. "I am Felix of Vale."

PLEASED TO MEET YOU, Death says, bowing his head. AND WHAT IS IT YOU DO?

See how good he is at the small talk?

"~~Speak in punctuation, save the world, and look angry.~~ At the moment I'm trying to restore Alchemy to Weyard. It's been gone for long enough that the world is noticably deteriorating, so I'm bringing it back."

OH, he replies, trying to look interested. ALCHEMY. I'VE MET A FEW ALCHEMISTS.

He meets everyone, mind.

"I would imagine so. It's often a dangerous profession."

EVERYTHING IS DANGEROUS IF YOU DO IT LONG ENOUGH.

"I suppose so, but there are degrees. Alchemy is much more dangerous than many other activities."

NO, Death says. EVERYONE IS JUST AS LIEKLY TO DIE AS EVERYONE ELSE.

"Yes, but Adepts are likely to die sooner than, for instance, healers or mayors."

Felix, it should probably be noted, is very carefully not being angry or defensive.

SOONER, MAYBE, he says, utterly oblivious to any presene or absence of anger. BUT IT'S ONLY A MATTER OF A FEW DECADES

"Nevertheless, at any particular moment there is more chance of an Adept dying than a politician. That sort of chance is what I think of as danger."

I SUPPOSE IT'S A MATTER OF PERSPECTIVE, he allows