Silence shrouded the town square like a thick, invisible fog; tangible, but unseen. Night hovered above, stalking the mute quietness of the tranquil village. The quiescence of the city was unnerving—chaotic in fact. The numbing hush of the world brought a continuous boredom and aggravating torture to a lone man strolling quickly through the damp and cold street, if you could even call him a man.

The figure’s face hung low as he strolled. A silent watery wind wisped through his clothes, a chilling sensation usually, but this notable felt nothing. The clacking of his bony feet picked up a steady tempo as he walked, breaking the ritual deafness that encompassed the town. The soft tingle of bells rang with each step; however, their peaceful tune seemed to sound from a distance as if they were trying to escape this boring city. The happy and joyous chiming of the tiny jingle bells was a far off noise, underlining the fact there was no joy in this particular vicinity; the happiness was far off and unreachable. Entertainment was the closest to happiness this settlement would see tonight, but it would be at their expense.

Footsteps and bells weren’t nearly enough noise to satisfy the undead, much less the unliving. The undead were the dead who ceased to die, while the unliving were the living who ceased to live. Unliving was never a true term, but it was the proper description for such a man as this. Made of bones and sorrow, this man was the only unliving. Life snatched away while dead, and death stolen while still alive. He was cursed; forced to live out his life in his never-ending greed and lust for amusement and pleasure. Despite the fool’s efforts, Toofy would never be satisfied in this paradox. A sick and twisted soul he was, lost and desperate for something, anything, whatever he could find that would make his existence worthwhile. Until the world ended, he’d have to find ways to make time fly. He did have one alternative, but that goal was nigh impossible to achieve.

His mission this night was the same as any: Find something that would provide any sort of amusement. When the sun rested, thugs and thieves would awake. Usually even law enforcement was scarce, in this particular city anyway, and as such it was the best time to do anything unlawful. Perhaps by slight chance there would reside someone nearby with the wits to provide a worthy challenge. Lately he’d been having some difficulty locating anyone who was worth battling, but tonight he knew he’d find someone to play with. This night had been the most uneventful one of the year. That was a good thing. Excitement usually struck when things dragged to a halt, when all the amusement was sleeping with the village.

There were three ways to start an adventure: The first was to find it, the second was to wait for it, and the third was to make it. The third choice was the quickest and easiest, but not usually the most entertaining. However, tonight he might have to result to that third choice, and tonight he’d try to make it entertaining.

Would there be blood? Yes. Would there be women? Maybe. Would he be satisfied? No, but he would settle for what he got. Damned to live, he lived for his job. If he were blessed to die, he’d die for his job.

His job was simple, his job was complex; his job was a jester: To amuse and to vex.

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Tree | Styx