I insist on making a few things known before going on with the fanfiction. 1) I hail from fanfiction, the website, so my idea of fanfiction may be somewhat foreign. 2) If you haven't read Discworld, I don't know if you'll get this, but feel free to try. 3) I know Richard doesn't actually say "fwoosh," but I find it rather easy to picture him making his own sound effects. 4) I like constructive criticism - a lot. Now on with the story!

***

Five minutes ago, Richard had been very put out. Cale, Krunch, Benny, and even Pella had gone off to talk with King Neptune about something or another. And they had left him behind with absolutely nothing to do. It seemed so unfair of them to run off while he was distracted based solely on a wild rumor that he wasn’t suited to diplomacy. That was utterly ridiculous. He liked people (he liked anything capable of simultaneously providing dinner and a show).

He particularly liked whoever had placed this lovely village so squarely in the path of his sulking. They had definitely brightened his day.

“Fwoosh!” Flames engulfed a two-story house, creating a very satisfactory effect as they billowed out from any openings. One woman dived out of a window to escape, but was encased in ice in midair. She shattered on impact with the ground. “Daycare, fifty points. Fwoosh!” Well, at least there was one good reason not to have gone with everyone else. His fwoosh would not have worked underwater, and that wasn’t acceptable. There was no way his day would have been nearly as fun without his fwoosh.

A cloaked figure caught Richard’s eye, mainly because he didn’t believe there could be anyone else in this dinky town who was cool enough to wear a black robe like that. Pulling out his second favorite weapon, Richard leapt at the offender. “Behold the Fork of Truth!” he bellowed, and stabbed the figure with it… which only resulted in a dull thunk.

ER… OW? the figure said uncertainly.

“Oh,” Richard said, disappointed. “It’s you.”

The figure turned around to face his attacker, revealing a skull beneath the cowl. A skeletal hand protruded from the sleeve of the robe to grip a scythe. YES, Death agreed. IT’S ME. He reached around and pulled the fork out of his ribcage. YOU MIGHT HAVE CHECKED FIRST.

Richard snatched the Fork of Truth back and tucked it into his belt. “I don’t exactly make a habit of getting names. Besides,” he added cheekily, “no harm done, right?”

Death’s eyes – or rather, the two distant blue lights that shone out of his eye sockets – flashed. REALLY. THE SCYTHE SHOULD HAVE GIVEN IT AWAY.

Richard shrugged. “I can’t say I noticed it. I just wanted to take your cloak.” Struck by a sudden thought, he spread his arms out dramatically. “You’re here for the massacre, aren’t you?” he asked delightedly.

Death could not actually clear his throat, but Richard caught a low rumbling noise that could be interpreted as such. NO, he replied eventually. I AM JUST HERE. He produced an hourglass from somewhere about his person – an hourglass labeled “King Neptune”. IT SEEMS YOUR COMPANIONS ARE ABOUT TO GET THEMSELVES INTO TROUBLE.

“They’re killing people without me?” Richard huffed. He chunked a fireball at a nearby weapons shop in a brief fit of annoyance. “Anyway, that doesn’t explain why you’re here here.”

I FELT A HUNDRED LIVES BEING DESTROYED AT ONCE WITH THE UTMOST CRUELTY, Death intoned solemnly, AND DECIDED TO STOP BY AND SEE HOW YOU WERE DOING.

Richard was distracted from the conversation as a man fled, screaming, from his burning shop. Richard took the opportunity to disintegrate him.

Death sighed and swung his scythe through the falling ashes, releasing the man’s soul. I SUPPOSE THERE’S NO NEED TO ASK WHAT YOU’VE BEEN UP TO LATELY. His gaze swept over the partially decimated town. YOU CERTAINLY HAVE BEEN KEEPING ME BUSY, RICHARD.

Richard clasped his hands behind his back and beamed. “It’s what I do,” he said modestly.

A boy, no more than ten, stumbled out of the forest and to the side of one of the corpses, where he fell to his knees. “Father! No!”

“Speaking of which….” Richard stretched out his hand toward the boy, summoning energy. However, his magic was stopped just before the fwoosh by a skeletal hand grasping his wrist. He stared at Death, surprised and more than a little vexed. “What?” he whined.

Death reached into the folds of his robe and withdrew an hourglass. It was still mostly full. Richard would have stuck his tongue out if it hadn’t been for… well, several reasons. But the thought was there. HE IS MEANT TO BE THE ONLY SURVIVOR, Death said.

Richard’s eyes lit up and he clasped his hands together. “The only survivor?” he repeated.

YES. Then Death leaned forward and gave him the sort of grin that only an incessantly grinning skeleton could pull off. HAVE AT IT.

Richard ran off, cackling and shooting magical flames at (almost) everyone in sight. The fwoosh, Death decided, was rather impressive. He was going to have to look into that.

A loud squeak caught his attention. The Death of Rats was struggling out from beneath a restaurant, which was, unsurprisingly, on fire. Death reached down and pulled him the rest of the way out. The Death of Rats scrambled up to Death’s shoulder. Together they watched Richard wreak havoc.

SQUEAK?

I DIDN’T HAVE THE HEART TO TELL HIM. FIGURATIVELY SPEAKING, OF COURSE.

SQUEAK, the Death of Rats chided.

I KNOW. When spoken by Death, the two words took on more meaning than any mortal could squeeze into them. He pulled a very large hourglass out of his robe and examined it. Aside from its size, it seemed fairly normal. It was set in a black frame, and a metal plaque was attached to the side of the bottom. However, instead of flowing naturally from the top bulb to the bottom, the sand inside had all gravitated to the gap between them. The Death of Rats reached over and tapped at the glass with his scythe. Death swatted him away, then stopped to peer at the name engraved on it. BLAST. HE’S GIVEN HIMSELF ANOTHER TITLE. I WILL HAVE TO GET A BIGGER PLAQUE… AGAIN. He turned to the Death of Rats, puzzled. WHAT IS A MISTRESS OF MAGMA?

The Death of Rats shrugged.

NO MATTER. Death replaced the hourglass; it disappeared within his robes. Richard had now burst into song and was slaying villagers on tempo.

SQUEAK, the Death of Rats said insistently. SQUEAK!

HE MUST RETURN EVENTUALLY, Death agreed.

Three bursts of flame hit their targets at evenly spaced intervals. “And another one bites the dust,” Richard sang, looking very pleased with himself. Fwoosh! Fwoosh! Fwoosh! “And another one bites the dust….” Two refrains later (one and a half, really, but Richard had blown up a few extra bits of debris to make it even), the entire village had been slain but for the one boy, who had disappeared. “Anything else I can do for you?” he asked cheerily.

Death was silent for a moment. The Death of Rats elbowed him. I SUGGEST YOU PREPARE TO ASSIST YOUR COMPANIONS, Death told him. IT WON’T BE LONG NOW.

Richard tossed off a mock salute and sauntered away. “Nice seeing you again!” he called back over his shoulder impertinently. He began snapping his fingers and hummed a falsetto tune with surprising skill until he was out of sight.

SQUEAK, the Death of Rats protested.

Death shook his head. NO ONE SHOULD KNOW THEIR OWN DESTINY, he said decisively. LET HIM HAVE HIS FUN. He turned on his heel and stalked away from the devastation, black robes swirling around him. Just as he reached the limits of the town, though, he abruptly came to a halt. He turned back and regarded the ruined village thoughtfully.

SQUEAK?

I WONDER…. Death stretched one hand out toward the carnage. Suddenly, a cold blue fire sparked at the edge of his fingers and hurtled toward a cart that had hitherto escaped destruction. The unfortunate cart soundlessly disintegrated into fine black ash.

Death inspected his work with a satisfied grin. FWOOSH.

*Scratches head...*

Hm. Interesting to a degree, but really goes right over my head as to making sense in relation to what's happening and such. I would advise maybe instead of using capital letters for Death speaking, use italics or coloured text. Caps lock makes my eyes bleed T-T

I would also suggest more detail in describing what's happening, where they are and their emotions. I can't really picture in my head what's happening. To be able to pull something like that, to make someone literally visualize in their mind, like it were a movie, what is happening, is amazing writing.

You're definately on a good path though, keep at it.

i think it was really good, however i would like to hear more..... please tell me you will continue this story.....

i've read a couple of disc worlds


...this is funny and kinda cool mix

keep it up

Wow, your really good at this. Mesa needs more or the bunny get's it!

She's typing in that style because that's how Death talks in the Discworld series. No quotes, and small caps. Kinda like he's powerfully projecting his thoughts into your head, rather than actually talking. If you know anything about Discworld, it's easier to understand what's going on.

Gotta say I really liked it. Very readable, not too flowery, you're not dragging it out too much, and entertaining. I think you did a good job of capturing both Richard and Death.

General reply!

Dark Wych, you're right; I do need to work on my descriptions. They're not my forte. Thanks for letting me know; I really do appreciate constructive criticism.

Tntdynomite, I'm afraid this is all there is. I've accomplished my crossover mission.

Etertay, if you've seen other Discworld stories, please tell me where so I can go read them, too!

Devin Austra, thank you very much. It does my ego good to hear such words. I do strive to keep everyone in character; that's one of my first priorities. I'm glad I succeeded.

I'm really glad it was enjoyable! Thank you all for reading and taking the time to review!

DhampireHEK, please do not harm the bunny.

I must say, you did quite a good job at writing Death.

Really, not very many people can get that tone.

Well done! ^^

Thank you very much! Death is... an interesting character. It can be challenging to write him just so. I'm glad I succeeded. Thanks!