Death and the Emp'ror

Gather 'round Gran'ma Millie children... Gran'ma Millie got an old tale to tell you, one from long 'go. Yes, Billy, from even 'fore Gran'ma Milly was born! That was quite long 'go indeed!

There once was much chaos in th' land. It rained at all times, an' there were no signs of lettin' up anytime soon. Anywho, th' humans lived 'n fear of the gods, who flooded th' valleys 'n canyons with thier downpour, forcin' us t'live 'n caves 'n th' mountains.

One day though, a pow'rful emp'ror by th' name of Gilg'mesh decided t'go 'gainst the gods. He built a mighty char'ot with stretched wings an' flew up t'th' clouds t'face th' gods in armed combat. When he arrived he challenged th’ big ‘n mighty beings to a duel’ve power. Th’ gods scoffed at him, being so small ‘n ‘parison to their giant forms, and spoke in ancient tong’s “Who are you t’face us, th’ gods? We created you, and all ‘round you!” t’which the Emp’ror ‘sponded, “Who are you t’challenge man, who has domain over yer ev’ry creature? Who lives an’ endures always, no matter how bad the floods get? Who fash’ns things not made by even th’ gods?”

           An’ the gods did quiver at this, seeing what danger they created. An’ the Emp’ror took one last glare at ‘em before he smote each an’ ev’ry one’ve ’em with his magic staff, seeing them cower ‘n fear. When he was done, he did look at his subjects ‘n say, “Th’ gods are defeated! There will be no more rain! An’ there was much ‘citement ‘round ev’ry corner. But th’ rain was made fer a reason, and wildfires sprung round ev’ry corner, and th’ many were thirsty fer the liquid that once fell on their arid land. “Save us, Emp’ror Gilg’mesh!” they shouted with all their might.

           The Emp’ror heard their pleas, an’ went to the last livin’ god to ask him fer forgiveness; Death himself. An’ so there he was, askin’ fer the power to control th’ weather, an’ Death struck up a deal. “I will teach you, if I’m granted jus’ one wish.” The Emp’ror was humbled. “Anythin’.” “My servants will be allowed t’be pres’nt anywhere, at any time. They will reside under ev’ry rock, animal, tree an’ man. And they will be ‘nvinc’ble, ‘specially to man.” The Emp’ror consented, an’ it was done.

           So to this day, children, th’ servants of Death reside, waiting fer their moment t’seize us, waitin’ fer us t’die.