Julius Peppermint, the Man Who Became Death

(The Child’s Story & the Secret Truth)

The Tale (as told to children)

“They say Julius was a man who smiled at funerals. A man who never cried, even when his mother burned alive before him. A man who ate only bitter herbs and peppermint leaves, so his breath always smelled sweet, even as he whispered curses. When the Angel of Death came for him, Julius did not bow. He swallowed it whole.”

Children in Arkos still whisper it before bed:
“If you don’t finish your meal, Julius Peppermint will come. His eyes are black and gold. His breath is mint and ash. And he’ll take your name, so no one remembers you ever lived.”

The Truth (as feared by the Proven)

Julius was no ordinary human. He was born in the slums of early Nova Prime, a starving orphan with eyes that glowed faintly even as a child. He rose to power not through kindness or heroism, but through cruelty honed into ritual.

• He dissected animals, then men, to watch how death worked.

• He ate ashes, herbs, and poisons, training his body to blur the line between life and decay.

• He smiled when plagues swept the cities, saying: “All that dies bends to me.”

When Saint Estes waged war against the Broodspawn, Julius stood apart, despised by both sides. While others prayed, he meditated in morgues. While others fought, he listened — to the silence between heartbeats, to the whispers of carrion birds.

Then came the Ascension. No one knows the exact day, but records tell of a city where every man, woman, and child dropped dead in their homes, eyes glazed with mint-green light. In the center stood Julius, alone, untouched, breathing in the last sigh of thousands.

He had done what no human was meant to do: he took Death into himself.

His Godhood

Thus was born Varath Julius, the Proven of Death.

• His true form is skeletal and regal, cloaked in shadows that drip like tar, but his face always smiles with that peppermint-sweet breath.

• He is not the reaper with scythe — he is the suffocation, the stillness, the silence when a song ends.

• His hands turn anything cold and brittle. His gaze robs warriors of will.

Even the other Proven do not sit near him in Heav, for his presence is a reminder: all gods, too, can die.

His Failure

But Julius is afraid.
Afraid of one mortal who did what even gods fear: Lazarus Kane.

Kane beat death. Kane refused to bend. Kane absorbed the executioner’s gift and spat it back in Death’s face. To Julius, Kane is the successor, the usurper, the one who proves that Death itself can be dethroned.

So the God of Death has grown weak — distracted, paranoid, unable to keep balance. Souls slip through his fingers. Undeath spreads where it shouldn’t. Broodspawn laugh at him.

Some Proven whisper he will be replaced.
Some Thralls whisper his weakness is a sign.
And on Nova Prime, children still sing:

“Peppermint breath, Peppermint eyes,
Smile at the grave and Julius will rise.”