03-05-2011, 10:11 PM
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The Souls of the Dead don't Float to the Other World; I Pry them from the Living and throw them into the Abyss of Death.
OOC: The chanting is in Italian, so use google translator if you want to know what he is saying :3 WC:728 Silver hair fluttering about slightly under his black crazy hat, the Undertaker walked swiftly and utterly silently through the undergrowth of the dark forest that brought some much comfort to the Undertaker. He cackled a bit, practically feeling all the dead souls around him, trying to enter his body to wreck havoc once more. He simply laughed, as he place his hand into his wagon, and pulled out a small, golden cross. He had made himself when he was younger, and he often used this pure gold one to shape wood ones for funerals and such. He could hear the souls scream, trying to get away from the holy item, but he soon paused, and began to chant softly, in his haunting tone,
" Begone anime dannate a spiriti beati, lasciare il mondo dei vivi e dei vostri cari, da inviare ai box dell'inferno o la raggiunge alti del cielo. Io sono sicuro se si sono guadagnati la tua degna sepoltura, ma ancora, demoni Begone agli angeli, lascia questo mondo che non appartengono più!" His voice ended once he felt the scratches of the claws of demons upon his arms, the screeches of pain and terror. Undertaker cackled once more, before reaching back into his wagon once more, and pulling out a large bottle, which looked to be beer, but truly, there was blessed water, mixed with olive oil and sage, to bless the remains that may remain here. He opened the top, and pour a bit onto his hand at a time, before throwing it about, covering the ground as he walked slowly around. This was going to be his camp, he might as well be protected while he was here. He flicked the water onto his horse, Panda, who simply grunted. She was used to it. He then flicked it onto his beautiful wagon, onto the supplies inside, and soon, onto himself, and onto his clothes. He shook himself then, but let some of the liquid seep into his skin. He went over to Panda, his trust horse, and pet her nose softly, before putting his forehead against hers. He scratched gently behind her ear, before rising from her face, in which Panda simply snorted, before searching for some grass. Undertaker simply chuckled, as he walked over to his wagon, and grabbed a few handfuls of hay, and took three trips, which made a nice sized pile of hay in front of Panda. Of course, this wagon wasn't his, he actually got it from one of his clients awhile back. It turned out, that his Client had given him the wrong wagon, this one was fully stocked with all sorts of supplies, the one his client meant to give him was one with nothing in it. Yet, Undertaker took it still, he wasn't going to give a perfect wagon back, especially one filled with supplies. Undertaker then jumped back into his wagon, and closed the small flap that let him into the wagon, the front one, where he could sit and make Panda move, and the back one, where passengers could get onto. He climbed in before he closed it, and started to set up for the night. He moved all the boxes and such to one corner, and then set out a few hay piles over the wood, then put a blanket over the hay, he would most likely feed the hay to Panda in the morning. He then reached for three pillows, another blanket, and a flag in which he used as a blanket. He simply sat on his quite cozy bed, and lit a candle for some light, and a incest. Undertaker also lit one of his cigarettes, and soon changed into just plain, beat up jeans to sleep in. There was a whole in the tail bone part for his tail, and it was very form fitting. He wasn't wearing a shirt, because he hated the trapping feeling that they gave him for some strange reason. He laid down on his makeshift bed, and pulled out one of the only books he had, Lolita. He started the book over for the fifth time, and began to read the first page, his eyes wandering a bit quick over the words. He heard Panda grunting happily as she ate her food, and he soon gave a small grin, cackling to himself.