"Ah, yeah," The Orcish god of death and the dead scratched at his mangy head of oily hair. "Probably should let you know that if you like living and breathing... don't die."
"...Well, I wasn't planning on it," Krysaos shrugged.
"I might be the god of death," Hades explained-- "and I can turn you *un*dead, if you want. But if you're too far gone, I gotta let a Reaper take you... or guide you to the beyond, myself."
"Good enough deal," Krysaos nodded. "But uh... am I goin' to one of the seven hells for sure? Or can you take me to someplace where there's nothin' but whores and drugs for the rest of my eternal suns?"
"Eh, yeah," Hades nodded hesitantly. "My place is kinda a mess, though-- so I hope you don't care about that too much."
Krysaos felt pretty good about securing a decent place in the afterlife. All he had to worry about, then, was living his best life in the present.
