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Description
There was a solid and extremely satisfying 'smack' as the solid iron end of your baton struck the short man straight in the face, whipping his head to the side and sending him a staggered pace or two back. You glanced down at your enchanted weapon in surprise, and then watched as the reaper straightened back up, hair slightly tousled and a wisp of dark smoke emanating from a cut that crowned the nasty maroon mark you'd given him right under his right eye. You'd... actually hurt him.
He realised the implications quickly, to his credit, and began to regard your weapon with a new wariness. "Right, then." Titus breathed - his sleeves were already rolled up, so he instead straightened them a little, delicately, like an old-timey gentleman might before a bout of fisticuffs. "If you're not going to come quietly..."
You weren't. You knew what his presence meant - it was a thing you had been avoiding ever since the diagnosis. It was why you had travelled so far in search of the intricate, centuries-old white oak and iron baton that you now held defensively, resolute, as you locked eyes with the being that, if you weren't careful, would now almost certainly personally see to it that your trip to the underworld was not a peaceful one.
"I haven't done this in centuries." The reaper's eyes seemed to be growing, his eerie crimson irises burning into you from charcoal sclera like glowing embers in a dark field. Growing larger, as his neck and torso elongated - yes, he was changing. You couldn't drag your eyes away, but you did step back, something like dread creeping slowly up your spine. Formerly chin-height to you, he towered over you now.
This was a sight that, if the legends were to be believed, had been putting the fear of God into disobedient souls since humankind lived around campfires, huddled close enough for the light to blister them, to ward away the darkness. And it sure was working on you.
The complete transformation lasted all of half a minute, and you weren't sure you had even blinked all the while. You suppose - inwardly, dryly, as your grip on the one object on Earth that might save you tightens until your knuckles match the white of the wood - that THIS was why you had been warned not to oppose the will of a reaper.

I like drawing monsters . o .
(and apparently also dumb anon silhouette dudes for scale)

I hinted at Titus having a spooky alt shape, so that meant i had to design it--

go give my boy some love, he's usually way cuter than this
toyhou.se/1876732.titus-minerv…

Description
There was a solid and extremely satisfying 'smack' as the solid iron end of your baton struck the short man straight in the face, whipping his head to the side and sending him a staggered pace or two back. You glanced down at your enchanted weapon in surprise, and then watched as the reaper straightened back up, hair slightly tousled and a wisp of dark smoke emanating from a cut that crowned the nasty maroon mark you'd given him right under his right eye. You'd... actually hurt him.
He realised the implications quickly, to his credit, and began to regard your weapon with a new wariness. "Right, then." Titus breathed - his sleeves were already rolled up, so he instead straightened them a little, delicately, like an old-timey gentleman might before a bout of fisticuffs. "If you're not going to come quietly..."
You weren't. You knew what his presence meant - it was a thing you had been avoiding ever since the diagnosis. It was why you had travelled so far in search of the intricate, centuries-old white oak and iron baton that you now held defensively, resolute, as you locked eyes with the being that, if you weren't careful, would now almost certainly personally see to it that your trip to the underworld was not a peaceful one.
"I haven't done this in centuries." The reaper's eyes seemed to be growing, his eerie crimson irises burning into you from charcoal sclera like glowing embers in a dark field. Growing larger, as his neck and torso elongated - yes, he was changing. You couldn't drag your eyes away, but you did step back, something like dread creeping slowly up your spine. Formerly chin-height to you, he towered over you now.
This was a sight that, if the legends were to be believed, had been putting the fear of God into disobedient souls since humankind lived around campfires, huddled close enough for the light to blister them, to ward away the darkness. And it sure was working on you.
The complete transformation lasted all of half a minute, and you weren't sure you had even blinked all the while. You suppose - inwardly, dryly, as your grip on the one object on Earth that might save you tightens until your knuckles match the white of the wood - that THIS was why you had been warned not to oppose the will of a reaper.

I like drawing monsters . o .
(and apparently also dumb anon silhouette dudes for scale)

I hinted at Titus having a spooky alt shape, so that meant i had to design it--

go give my boy some love, he's usually way cuter than this
toyhou.se/1876732.titus-minerv…