Santa Sweater was a foot soldier who got caught in an ambush and only barely escaped with her life. Revalidation in the infirmary was long and boring, so she found herself pacing up and down the hallway past the chapels to the various gods. The one to the God of Death was appropriately lifeless: empty snail shells, dried flowers, scrimshaw figurines. Few ever came to plead here, for loved ones are kept far from the front, and those at Death's door rarely have the strength anymore. Even so, the place felt strangely deserted; why would Death not feel right at home here? In a moment of agony, she felt the visceral answer echo through her: "I hate this place, wholly dedicated to fighting me off." That night, she did what she knew she had to do: armed with a cleaver, she went from bed to bed, then to the nearest encampment, and gathered all in a splendorous Bacchanal of Death, miraculously unstopped by anyone until finally and fittingly, she died of exhaustion.


Hally was a Mafia Martyr



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