To Be The Best Hype Man [D|GEN]

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What am I to do now? I am running about, doing errands for the weak and poor...and now I'm accepting a request to fulfill another dusty cretin's final finishes...musician my ass. Hollrage walked along the cobblestone of Oak Town's streets, his cryptic appearance striking fear into others as he left a cold imprint in each step, the assumption he was quite the reaper growing each time. He was determined to make money, he needed it if he was going to become a successful mage. It wasn't just power he needed, he required a significant amount of adversity to learn from...otherwise he wouldn't be able to grow. His magic would grow great, but for now he was bound to the...humiliating tasks at hand. Approaching a building seemingly in ruins and abandoned, he began to hear the bumping of bass exuding from it. Knocking on the door hard, a brittle, old man opened it without fear. In his wheel-chair, he had an oxygen tank attached and he kept throwing different gang signs repeatedly. "I am no reaper, but you seemingly don't care. Are you...eh...Little Brittle?" the old man couldn't speak much, beyond mumbles of unintelligible vowels that were quite fowl. Brittle handed Hollrage a list of instructions, which he was able to actually decipher even with the horrid hand-writing. Reading them, he also received the supplies for posting his ad around town.

Hollrage reluctantly nodded, turning and making his way towards the more public part of Oak Town to hang the signs. Reading the list, he had ignored the part about WHAT the advertisements were, as the man would die soon anyways, and went right to the instructions. This man will die, I swear of it. But...the Council would surely have my head if I killed him. he grumbled at the fact he couldn't just murder the geezer and take his valuables, but the task was of little difficulty. All he had to do was post up signs everywhere, properly spacing them out for maximum efficiency. Once all the signs were put up, he went to return to the old man, who was again, bumping his music. Knocking on the door, he answered angrily and saying something along the lines of "yo bit whooo d-fuuu knockin' in-m-door?" which made Hollrage stare him down, emotionless...voiceless...and the hidden face actually scared the man. "I have finished this petty mission. My payment?" the old man laughed, speaking on how he'd pay him once the album start selling. Hollrage pointed his hand at the old man, and a green aura burst from it to form his sword, Maerwolaeth Cleddyf. It had stopped abruplty in front of the man's neck, avoiding touching it due to the frail skin but sending him in shivers. "It won't sell at all if you refuse me one more time." the man reluctantly retrieved the set reward, handing Hollrage his reward and provoking the embodiment of death to leave him be. Walking off, he laughed in a slow, deep tone that sent shivers down the old man's spine...he wouldn't be working for him anytime soon.

The last thing heard was a gaseous release and a wet noise following it. "Ooooh damn...shoulda steh-hay'd in bed mi-nig." he threw his gang signs, closed his door and hoped Hollrage would never return as he went to go clean himself.