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Therapy: King's Quest Style

Started by Damar, September 06, 2010, 08:13:08 PM

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That's great! I could hear the Grandma from Hoodwinked - I believe that was Glenn Close - voicing her. Lol. I actually know people like that, although one is severely mentally ill, as confirmed by doctors. But those I know just get used and abused completely for that thought pattern.


Next up is a pretty busy one.  We've got a pretty obvious diagnosis as well as expanding on the call-backs I've been doing, followed by a whole new direction.  See that below you?  That's a shark.  I'm jumping that sucker so hard!  Enjoy!

"Alright, so you're mandated to attend for a psychiatric evaluation.  Tell me, why is that?"
"I'm a kleptomaniac."
"Is that so?"
"Yes.  You just need to sign papers saying that for the court."
"And what proof do you have that you're a kleptomaniac?"
"I steal things!  What more do you need?"
"Just stealing things isn't enough for a diagnosis."
"You don't know anything about dwarf psychology, do you?"
"I know that it's no different than any other psychology."
"That's what you think.  You're no expert.  Any expert would see that I have kleptomania."
"And what have you stolen?"
"Treasure.  Lots of treasure.  And jewelry.  I stole some sapphire earrings once.  But some scumbag broke in and took them!"
"The nerve!"
"Don't get sarcastic with me."
"I wouldn't dream of it.  What else do you steal?"
"I don't know.  Soup?  Look, I have kleptomania!"
"Now you reside in Kolyma, isn't that right?"
"What does that have to do with my kleptomania?"
"But you're also being charged with crimes from Daventry.  All theft related, correct?"
"Yes.  That would make sense for someone with kleptomania.  You're wasting my time.  Wait...was that someone at your door?"
"Just ignore it.  Ok, so you're a kleptomaniac because you steal jewelry?"
"Yeah.  I think that's the definition of kleptomania!"
"Actually it's specifically not."
"Shows what you know."
"Yes.  Yes it does."
"If you're so smart then why don't you tell me what I have if it's not kleptomania?  I...ok, seriously, it sounds like someone is scratching at your door!"
"They're always scratching, but I won't let them in.  As for your diagnosis, the facts seem to paint a clear picture.  You lived in Daventry where you robbed everyone around you.  When you crossed too many people there, you relocated to Kolyma and robbed people of their jewelry and stole their food to feed yourself.  You're diagnosis is fairly simple.  You're a thief."
"I have a disease!"
"No you don't.  Kleptomaniacs steal items of no value.  It's a compulsion to steal.  You've stolen valuable items and things of use to you.  You've also shown insight into what you're doing by trying to avoid prosecution.  You don't have a compulsion.  You just like to steal."
"Do I look like I'm enjoying this?"
"No.  But then I said you like to steal, not that you like getting caught."
"You don't know what you're talking about!"
"If you say so, but that will be on my report to the judge.  You don't have kleptomania."

That Dwarf (Prisoner Number 6)
Diagnosis: 1. Malingering
2. Probable Antisocial Personality Trai...

Dwarf: "Ok, seriously, there are people scratching at your door!  This is completely unprofessional!  I will sue!"
Therapist: "It's not..."
Dwarf: "No, it's a violation of my privacy!  I will sue you all and demand a mistrial and...they're still there!  Ok, whoever's out there, by all means come in!"
Therapist: "NO!  DON'T INVITE THEM IN!" (The door flies open and two figures float in)
Allaria: "We knew you would break eventually."
Caliphim: "Tonight we shall feast well to the glory of our Dark Lord Samhain!"
Caliphim and Allaria: "Hail Samhain!"
Dwarf: "What in the Dimension of Death is going on here?"
Caliphim: "We are from the Realm of the Dead, not that quaint little pretend land you so laughingly fear."
Allaria: "We have tasted darkness of which your Dimension of Death could only dream."
Caliphim: "Azriel is such a pansy."
Allaria: "Totally."
Caliphim: "And now we shall deliver you both to our Dark Lord.
Caliphim and Allaria: "Hail Samhain!"
Dwarf: "What the what?"
Therapist: "Begone thou foul creatures of darkness!  The dwarf has no authority here!  This is my realm and you were not invited by me!"
Caliphim: "Oh come on!  That's just splitting hairs!"
Allaria: "But I'm hungry now!  I wanna feast on his flesh!"
Therapist: "Begone, I say!  Avaunt and return no more!"
Caliphim: "Fine!  But know this: you will break eventually and when you do invite us in, we will kill you outright!  No theatrics!  We're done screwing around with you!"
Allaria: "Seriously, you are so dead next time!  We are totally going to feast on your flesh and drink your blood!"
Caliphim: "And then the blood orgy!"
Allaria: "Yes, the blood orgy!  All in accordance with our Dark Lord's plan!"
Caliphim and Allaria: "Hail Sam..."
Therapist:  "Get out!"
Caliphim: "Fine, we're leaving, we're leaving.  But you can't run forever.  We will have you!"
Therapist: "I think not!  I will remove your blight from this earth even if I must travel to the Realm of the Dead myself!"
Allaria: "Foolishness!  You cannot!"
Therapist: "Yes I can!  Flesh can cross the portal and seek its master death!"
Caliphim: "Can not!"
Therapist: "Can too!"
Caliphim: "Nuh-uh!"
Therapist: "Uh-huh!  I even have vacation time saved up!  I will too cross the portal and seek my master death!  You two are going back from whence you came!  Now get out of my office!"
Caliphim: "You will die mortal!"
Allaria: "I'll swallow your soul!"
Caliphim: "NONE OF YOU ARE SAFE!"  (Caliphim and Allaria leave)
Therapist: "I might be as good as dead, but I won't give you the satisfaction of taking me yourselves.
Dwarf: "Ha!  Sucks to be you, doesn't it?"
Therapist: "Yes it does.  Every day..."
Dwarf: "You are so dead!"
Therapist: "Maybe, but you're still going back to jail."
Dwarf: "They might have given me an ogre as a cellmate, but at least I don't have the living dead after me!  I'll be out on parole in a few years.  Your soul is going to be devoured for all eternity!  HA!"
Therapist: "We'll see about that.  I'd better get packing..."

That Dwarf (Prisoner Number 6)
Diagnosis: 1. Malingering
2. Definite Antisocial Personality Traits

King Caliphim and Queen Allaria of the Land of the Green Isles
And they're going down...

(Posted on: July 11, 2011, 10:53:53 PM)

The next installment in the therapist versus the undead saga.  Spoiler alert: Diagnoses are involved.

"Wow!  Zombies are really out in full force tonight, aren't they?  I swear, that one zombie with the knife in her back kept trying to cop a feel off me.  But my mother always warned me about bad ghouls.  Not that I needed her advice for this.  Seriously, they've probably got a disease so bad it would peel my skin off!  So, can I get into that tendony skull thing?"
"Tickets only!"
"Ah.  Right down to business, aren't you?  Kind of expected you to ask about how I managed to get to the Realm of the Dead.  I thought it would be tricky, but Nightmare always hangs out at the Isle of the Sacred Mountain and once you deal with her separation anxiety it's no problem to get close to her and..."
"Ticket please."
"Of course.  I'm rambling, aren't I?  I guess I'm just not the best at dealing with zombies and hoary netherworlds.  The rambling is kind of a defense mechanism.  It lets me..."
"Ticket please."
"You're really not much for conversation, are you?  Maybe I should just walk past you and..." (guard draws a sword)
"Tickets only."
"And you clearly don't like your personal space invaded, do you?"
"Ticket please."
"Are you even making eye contact with me?"
"Ticket please."
"You're not, are you?  You're just staring straight ahead."
"Ticket please."
"And you have a limited vocabulary."
"Ticket please."
"Yeah, you're barely even verbal, aren't you?"
"Ticket please."
"Look, I'm not dead so I don't have a ticket."
"Tickets only."
"I don't have a ticket!  I'm alive!  I was not issued a ticket!"
"Tickets only."
"Holy crap, are you concrete about this!"
"Tickets only."
"Yes I know, but I don't have one!  I seek an audience with the Lord of the Dead!  I am flesh and I've totally crossed the portal!  You seek my master death and whatnot!"
"Tickets only."
"Ok, seriously, you are the most rigid person I have ever met.  There is just no flexibility here, is there?"
"Ticket please."
"You've been like this for a long time, haven't you?"
"Ticket please."
"No social appropriateness, limited verbal skills, rigidity..."
"Ticket please."
"And an overriding obsession with tickets."
"Look, I did not put up with a ferryman with an obsessive compulsive need to talk all the way to the Isle of the Sacred Mountain, be insulted by Azure's megalomania, and treat an animal's separation anxiety just so I could dodge nymphomaniac zombies and find myself having a one-sided conversation with a skeleton guard Rain Man who can't even...YOU'RE STILL NOT LOOKING AT ME!"
"Tickets only."

Realm of the Dead Gatekeeper
Diagnosis: Autism

(Posted on: August 18, 2011, 09:38:49 PM)

I was bored.  So here's another.

"Hello?  Anyone who isn't a zombie?  Do any of you have tickets?  Does, no!  NO!  I said anyone who's not a zombie!  Back off!  Yeah, that's right, you shuffle away!  I will...I will end you if you come near me!  With fists...or something..."
"Ali!  Where is my poor little boy?  Ali!"  (ghost flits in a circle)
"Oh, thank God, someone who isn't a zombie!"
"Ali!  Where is my poor little boy?  Ali!"  (ghost flits in a circle)
"Um...hello?  Did you lose someone?"
"My son was lost!"
"Lost?  You mean, in this realm?"
"No, his spirit was stuck in the land of the living!  I could not leave to go show him the way!"
"Oh.  I can't help but notice you're referring to this whole episode in the past tense.  Is he lost somewhere else now?"
"No.  A mortal man showed him the way here."
"Ok.  So he's not lost anymore then?"
"He has continued to the Sea of Souls."
"Fair enough.  And you're here because..."
"Ali!  Where is my poor little boy?  Ali!"  (ghost flits in a circle)
"He's in the Sea of Souls.  Why do you keep asking?"
"Because I do.  And I am still here because I don't want to be crowded by other souls."
"Well it seems you do need room for your acrobatics.  You flit in a circle a lot, don't you?  It's like you're stuck in an animation loop."
"Ali!  Where is my poor little boy?  Ali!"  (ghost flits in a circle)
"Yeah, and the voice is kind of on a loop too, isn't it?"
"I cannot stop!"
"This isn't about the Sea of Souls being crowded, is it?  You're a ghost so you're immaterial.  You don't like being around people because you feel you..."
"Ali!  Where is my poor little boy?  Ali!"  (ghost flits in a circle)
"You feel you draw attention to yourself by constantly saying the same thing and making the same movement over and over again."
"They'll all laugh at me!"
"They're dead.  I think they're all beyond laughing."
"They won't understand!  Ali!  Where is my poor little boy?  Ali!"  (ghost flits in a circle)
"Again, they're dead.  But this was an issue when you were alive, wasn't it?  You've learned that people don't understand your...idiosyncrasies."
"No one understood but my poor Ali.  I sent him on so that he wouldn't have to stay among the lost souls with me."
"Look, I understand that you feel the need to say the same phrase and move in the same motion, but you can't put off your entire afterlife because of it."
"I like it up here.  The ghouls are always fun to watch.  There's one behind you now."
"HEY!  BACK UP!  BACK!  UP!  NO!  BAD ZOMBIE!  I need to get a rolled up newspaper to handle these guys."
"Ali!  Where is my poor little boy?  Ali!"  (ghost flits in a circle)
"Look, I know it's difficult to stand out and it must be pretty horrible to find out that your psychiatric disorders transferred into death, but no one will be judging you in the Sea of Souls.  They're all busy coexisting and...mingling...and...whatever it is you ghosts do."
"And I'm sure you want to see your Ali again."
"I do but I...Ali!  Where is my poor little boy?  Ali!"  (ghost flits in a circle)
"Well, that's something you can work towards.  Meanwhile, maybe there's something you can do up here on the surface?  There seem to be other restless spirits who can't move on to the Sea of Souls.  Maybe you could start a support group or something?"
"Ali!  Where is my poor little boy?  Ali!"  (ghost flits in a circle)
"It's something to think about, anyway."
"I will.  Did you say you needed a ticket?"
"A while ago, yes."
"You can have mine!"
"I couldn't do that!"
"They'll just issue me a new one since I'm a ghost."
"Then what's the point of tickets in the first place?"
"The Gatekeeper likes them."
"Oh.  Right.  The whole rigidity and order thing.  That actually makes sense."
"Here, take my ticket.  I may join my Ali someday but for now I...ghoul behind you!"
"Ali!  Where is my poor little boy?  Ali!"  (ghost flits in a circle)
"Oh, I'm just going to get out of here now.  Nice meeting you."
"Ali!  Where is my poor little boy?  Ali!"  (ghost flits in a circle)

Ghost Mother
Diagnosis: Tourette Syndrome

"Hey, Gatekeeper!"
"Tickets only!"
"Oh, well then I guess I can't enter...unless..."
"Ticket please."
"Go on."
"BOOYAH!  That's right, I have a ticket!  Boo-to-the-yah!"
"Go on."
"You are really dragging the fun out of this for me."
"Go on."
"Fine.  Whatever."

Realm of the Dead Gatekeeper
Diagnosis: Autism.  Definitely Autism.


I can't believe there haven't been any replies to these - they're great! Actually, I initially thought the kleptomania one was going to be Graham, since he picks up whatever he finds. :P

Steve Abbott | Beta Tester | The Silver Lining


Nah, Graham is on the first page with OCD and a note to rule out kleptomania.  Coupled with the fact that he never changes his clothes, his need to pick up objects is more a neurotic ritual than kleptomania.  In my professional opinion, anyway.

And now, the Realm of the Dead saga continues.  Enjoy!

"Ok, so I'm going to need to get into your boat."
"It's Charon, right?  It's been a while since I read my Greek myths.  I need to see Samhain.  Who is not part of Greek mythology.  How does that work?"
"How much do you know about this place?  Did you know there's a knight's skeleton on the path back there?  It looks like might have been alive when he came here."
"It's just that, you know, I kind of care about that thing.  Seeing as how I'm alive and all.  He's just sitting out there.  Couldn't someone, I don't know, bury him or something?"
"And there was a ghost hanging out inside his armor doing...well, I don't know what he was doing."
"No, that's a lie.  I know exactly what the ghost was doing in there.  It's just...well, is it still technically necrophilia if you're also dead?"
"Because you wouldn't think so, but then it was a dead, unmoving shell that attracted the ghost, not another spirit or an animated corpse.  So that points to a need for control and a desire for a nonliving partner.  It all still has a necrophiliac bent to it."
"Yeah, I think it's necrophilia too.  Anyway, I really could use a ride on your boat."
"You don't talk, do you?"
"Or do you just not talk to me?"
"I don't care if you are a skeleton, I know skeletons can talk.  The one outside the gate did."
"Ghosts talk, and they don't have vocal cords."
"The skeleton boatman in the Dimension of Death, who's totally copying your style, talks."
"So by extension, you can talk to."
"No, you're not a mute.  Mutes have something wrong with their vocal chords or brain damage or some other physical cause.  That issue is moot here.  Ha!  Get it?  It's moot!  It..."
" sounds like mute.  Moot.  Mute.  Yeah, I hate myself for that.  Sorry."
"The point is that any physical cause of mutism is nullified here because you're dead.  You have no vocal chords, ergo you are able to speak through whatever mechanism you vocal cordless dead people use."
"And you're not a deaf-mute because you clearly are responding to my voice.  You choose not to speak.  Why is that?"
"I should have known better than to ask."
"Look, I just want to get on the boat.  I need to go across the river."
"I have the undead after me!  I need Samhain to bring them back to the underworld!"
"You have to take me!  I am a man, and I've totally crossed the portal!"
"I...I crossed the portal.  You know, to, like, seek my master death and stuff."
"I keep thinking that stupid poem is actually going to mean something down here.  You don't care, do you?"
"Ok, I know Alexander got through.  What do I need?"
"You know, if you just relax, you could find the ability to talk."
"It's a response to stress and anxiety.  You mostly get the mutism in children, but that's ok.  You can still do something about it.  It's not too late."
"I...I could help."
"What if I got you some Xanax?  Would you let me across the river then?"
"Yeah, you're right, I don't have Xanax on me.  You totally called my bluff."
"And, yes, it is pretty addictive.  Very well, no Xanax for you.  Well played sir."
"You don't want help, do you?"
"Ok, fine.  No help for Charon.  You can stay quiet.  What do you want then?  Money?"
"You want to get paid, don't you?"
"Well, I'm still alive.  I didn't get any coins put on my eyes."
"Ok, let me see what I have.  Looks like I have a little money.  I've got a dollar or two."
"Not enough.  Ok, I...look all I have is three fifty."
(Charon extends his hand.)
"Oh come on!  It's my last three fifty!  You're really going to take my last three fifty?"
"Fine!  Whatever, I don't even care.  Stupid paranormal entities always asking for three fifty!  Just take me across the river.  I want to get this over with."
"Just take the money and shut up."

Diagnosis: Selective Mutism


It kind of annoys me how he interacts with EVERYTHING via diagnosis... ::) If he doesn't get diagnosed for that by the end of this, it will feel incomplete.

Mythological characters JUST DON'T bare psychological scrutiny: of course, they're one dimensional entities who unless they are a major figure in their native mythology fulfill a singular purpose and are likewise single-minded... diagnosing them with a psychological disorder that basically says "single-minded in X way" is counter-productive to actual psychology. ::)

(Posted on: September 13, 2011, 09:47:11 AM)

err... that came off overly judgmental maybe... I enjoyed the earlier installments! :) ... I just feel like diagnosing supporting figures in a self-contained mythos such as KQ6 Charon and the Gatekeeper is akin to diagnosing furniture.
Noli me tangere! Nescio ubi fuisti!
Don't touch me! I don't know where you've been!

Marquess of Pembroke
Duke of Saxony in Her Majesty's Court
Knight of the Swan for Her Imperial Highness

...resistance was obviously useless against a family that could invent italics.

"Let the locative live."


Well, under normal circumstances Charon wouldn't have been included.  But I decided to pay homage to the Realm of the Dead as a means of continuing with the Caliphim and Allaria subplot (which greatly entertains me for some reason.  I like writing about blood orgies, I guess, and it cracks me up to write "Hail Samhain."  I don't know why.)  And since I'm doing the Realm of the Dead, I've got to include everyone along the way.  It's what I signed on to do, and for better or worse, I'm seeing it through to the end.  You could argue that I'm running out of ideas and...well...yeah, I probably am.  And as for finding a diagnosis for everyone, well, that's kind of the joke for all of these.  So a diagnosis is just to be expected.

Anyway, we're almost to the Lord of the Dead!  Be careful not to get your hand bitten off!

"Alright, I have got to be almost there now.  I am really getting tired of this place and all its nonverbal inhabitants.  I'm just going to go through here and..."
"What touch has awaited my sleep?"
"Oh come on!  The actual staff of the Realm of the Dead won't talk to me, but the freaking gate!  Yeah, the freaking gate won't shut up!"
"I smell the blood of a mortal!"
"Of course you do!  Because that makes plenty of sense.  Will Charon talk to me?  The guy who actually has to interact with spirits on a regular basis?  No, of course not.  But the gate.  The gate that would be meaningless for noncorporeal entities, this anachronism of a structure, yeah, the gate is going to chat me up!  Why not?  WHY THE FREAK NOT?"
"Reach out thine hand again, fleshy human, that I might...devour it."
"Ok, this has taken a darker turn."
"It has been centuries since I last...ate..."
"It's been centuries since you had a meal and all you want to eat is my hand?  I'd think you'd want to eat all of me."
"Far too fattening!"
"HEY!  I mean...ok...even if I maybe have a few extra pounds, just a few mind you, I don't see how that makes any difference.  You haven't eaten in centuries.'re downright skeletal."
"Bah.  You can still see fat around my cheekbones, fleshy human!"
"I see stretched skin over a skull."
"Fatty skin."
"You're a gate.  Seriously.  Weight wouldn't seem to be an issue here.  You're a structure."
"Just looking at thine lumpy, fleshy form, I can feel myself gaining weight.  Now give me thine hand!"
"No!  I'm not going to let you use parts of my body as a means to restrict your diet!"
"Your hand, fleshy human!"
"No, thank you.  I would meet the Lord of the Dead with my flesh still intact.  It's kind of a life goal I have."
"I would be doing thee a favor, fleshy human, by removing some of your excess weight."
"I would pass, Gate!  I have business with your master!"
"My master and thine, human.  I wouldst be pleased to introduce thee."
"Well that sounds much more helpful.  Yes, if you could introduce me to the..."
"Only step forward and thou shalt meet him shortly."
"Right.  Minus a hand.  I really am not in the mood to have a skull gate eat my hand.  Or any other part of me."
"Bah!  I would only eat thine hand.  The rest of thee is far too fatty."
"I am really getting tired of you commenting on my weight.  I'm not that fat.  Your perceptions are off."
"Thou must move from here eventually human.  Ye shall meet the Lord of the Dead whether it be through me or starvation."
"I think there are other options here."
"There are not.  To meet the Lord of the Dead, thou must go through me.  And it will cost thee thine hand!"
"No, I really don't think I do have to go through you.  There are holes in the wall above you leading to the next chamber."
"You could never reach them, fleshy human!"
"Are you kidding?  This whole place is nothing but weird tendony things stretching from the walls to the path to the ceiling.  Look, there's one to the left right here!  It connects to a hole going through to the other side!  Seriously, the hole is, like, six feet above the ground.  I'm just going to climb up the tendon and jump through the holes in the wall.  Why would I want to even try messing with you?"
"Ah, but there is a way for mortal man to pass through me!  Should a human try to pass...a riddle is Gate's wont to ask!"
"Yeah...I'm not doing that.  I'm just going to climb in through the window there."
"You cannot do that, fleshy human!"
"Stop calling me that!  You see fat everywhere!  Knock it off!"
"Thou must answer my riddle!"
"No.  No, I really don't.  You're just overly driven about everything.  It has to be your way, doesn't it?  Well, not this time."  (Therapist climbs up the tendon and to the hole in the wall above Gate.)
"But the riddle!"
"Not doing it.  Check it out!  I can see the Lord of the Dead through here.  And there are his personal guards it just me or does it look like they're wearing black Klan robes?  Seriously, am I the only one seeing that?  It's making me uncomfortable."
"Get back down here, fleshy human!  You must answer my riddle!"
"The answer is...YOUR MOM!"
"Oh, that's right!  I went there!  Your mom cannot be banished, even from this place!  There are still spirits pining for her on the surface above!"
"I will kill you, traitor of the mortal plane!"
"You got nothing, Gate!  Have a nice eternity!"  (Therapist jumps through the hole.)

Diagnosis: Anorexia


My point remains that the mere fact that he diagnoses everyone is in fact diagnosable. :P
Noli me tangere! Nescio ubi fuisti!
Don't touch me! I don't know where you've been!

Marquess of Pembroke
Duke of Saxony in Her Majesty's Court
Knight of the Swan for Her Imperial Highness

...resistance was obviously useless against a family that could invent italics.

"Let the locative live."


...which is kind of where I see this ending up. Not that I don't enjoy it; I really do.
So what if I am, huh? Anyways, I work better when I'm drunk. It makes me fearless! If I see a bad guy, I'll just point my sword at him and saaaaaaaaaay, "Hey! Bad guy! You're not s'posed to be here! Go home or I'll stick you with my sword 'til you go, 'Ouch! I'm dead!' Ah-ha-ha!" Ha-ha. *hic* See? Ain't no one gonna be messin' wit' ol', Benny!


Holy Roman Empress
Queen of *all* Albion
Précieuse and salonnière! :D
"In cases of doubt about language, it is ordinarily best to consult women."-Vaugelas
Space! :D Extraterrestrium! :D Espace! :D


We've reached the Lord of the Dead.  The time has come to challenge!

"Look, all I'm saying is that you guys might want to change your guard uniforms.  First off, the robe thing is going to restrict your mobility.  Secondly, you look like you belong to a white supremacist group with a faulty color scheme.  No comment?  You're really going to make people uncomfortable with that.  Well, except for the racists.  Which reminds me, what exactly is the pecking order down here?  Does everyone get here?  When I die, am I going to be hanging out alongside a potential murderer for all eternity?  Is there actually a punishment if you do bad things in life?  Because if there's not, I'm totally going to stop paying my taxes.  I just don't see any reason why...Ok, and you're walking away now.  Yeah, I was done talking to you guys.  I'll just hang out here and talk to...HOLY GIANT GUY GROWING OUT OF A CHAIR!  How did I not see you until now?"
"Why have you entered my domain still wearing your flesh?"
"Um...because I like my skin?  I'm going to go with that answer.  By the way, your guards uniforms are..."
"If you are so anxious for death, you might have found it easily enough in the land of the living."
"Yeah, that's a faulty premise there.  I'm not particularly anxious for death.  Well, unless it's right after a session with those ghoul kids.  Conduct disorder is a tough thing to treat.  And I hate child psychology."
"But since you are here, you are most welcome to stay.  Kiss my hand and you will be one with the spirits.  There will be no pain."
"Oh, well, no pain?  Since you put it that way, ABSOLUTELY NOT!  I'm really not looking to die here!  I've come to make a request."
"Why should Death offer you anything?"
"Because I asked nicely?"
"And your courtesy has been taken into account.  You will die without pain."
"I did not come here to die but to demand my rite of challenge.  I respectfully challenge thee, Death."
"You cannot challenge me!"
"I just did.  I challenge thee."
"You must have the gauntlet."
"What?  I actually need a gauntlet to throw down?  I went through all this trouble to get here!  Isn't that challenge enough?  I need a glove too?"
"Not just any glove.  You need the special gauntlet.  Forged by the gods that cursed me and engraved with the magical words that all mortal men may read, its power is great and affords mortals the rite of challenge.  It is an ancient artifact that..."
"Oh, here it is.  Right here on the ground in front of you."
"What?  It's..."
"Yep.  Right where Alexander must have thrown it down when he was here."
"Guards!  I told you to clean up down here!  What am I paying you for?"
"They were probably too busy burning a..."
"Enough about our dress code, mortal."
"Alright, let's take it from the top.  I did not come here to die, but to demand my rite of challenge.  I respectfully challenge thee, Death, by throwing down this gauntlet!  Man may cross the portal, and seek his master death.  Man my pass where death has trod and challenge."
"Challenge?  Like Scheherazade?"
"I think so.  Did she really challenge death though, outside of metaphorically?"
"Not really, but it works with the rhyme scheme."
"Yeah, but why force the rhyme?  Why not..."
"It was written by gods, not poets.  So, you would challenge me, who reigns beneath the sod, to spare a mortal's breath?"
"Actually no.  Kind of the opposite."
"You wish me to take a mortal's breath?  Interesting.  You are aware that there are mortals in the land of the living who will kill for a price?  You journeyed here to..."
"I do not want the living killed.  I would have you take back the ones you restored.  King Caliphim and Queen Allaria of the Land of the Green Isles."
"You would have me take back the life I gave to them?"
"You created undead monsters!  They have killed already and will continue to do so.  Man is meant to die once.  We were not meant to return to the land of the living."
"That is a lesson that all men must learn.  Alexander has learned it.  The knight who bargained for the soul of his dead lover learned it as well.  He was returning here to beg me to take her back when she finally feasted on his flesh."
"So that's how the knight died!  But...if his undead girlfriend was so dangerous, why did he bring her with him back here?"
"I suppose he thought he needed to.  He was a brave man.  But not overly smart.  Quite stupid in fact.  That's why he had so much trouble meeting women after his lover died."
"Well that's one mystery solved.  But why do you mess with the living like that?  Why cause those who are returned to become undead and crave human flesh?"
"Street cred."
"Do you know how horrific my life is?  I insulted the gods one time and they did this to me.  And now they force me to run their afterlife.  They already hate me, so any time they feel I'm not being evil or dark enough, they demote me."
"The knight wasn't the first one to challenge me.  The first time I was forced to return a soul to the land of the living, the gods decided that I wasn't up to the task of being the lord of the underworld."
"Really?  But they're the ones who created the means to challenge in the first place."
"And then they punished me for it.  Yes."
"What did they do?"
"They suggested that the job of Lord of the Dead was too hard for me, then outsourced by job."
"Wait, what?"
"Haven't you ever wondered why the Dimension of Death exists when my realm serves the same purpose?"
"Well, I guess I always assumed it was because the people of Daventry believed in..."
"That's stupid.  Do you really think that every belief magically creates a specific afterlife?  If someone believed in a flying spaghetti monster, would you expect to see it suddenly exist?"
"Well, no, but..."
"People know my Realm of the Dead exists, so what purpose does a Dimension of Death serve?  The gods outsourced a bulk of my job to a reanimated, hammer wielding, cow head."
"I had no idea that the pantheon of gods was so bureaucratic."
"Why wouldn't they be?  They have a universe to run."
"I guess.  Still, it's disappointing.  And the fact that they'd be so passive aggressive."
"Bureaucrats usually are."
"True.  So you try to flood the universe with the undead whenever someone successfully challenges you?"
"To impress the gods, yes."
"It seems like passive aggression on your part, though."
"Yes.  You are bested by a mortal challenger, so you get your revenge on him.  And it seems like some of that desire for revenge might also be based on the fact that you were mortal at one time as well."
"You make it sound like I'm a bully."
"I think it's more complicated than that.  You've been through a major life change and every waking moment is just another reminder of what happened to you.  Some people have trouble adjusting to sudden change, but you are hit with that change every single day.  And you're acting out because of it."
"Is that what you believe?  Maybe I just want to impress the gods with my evil."
"The gods cursed you with immortality and made you grow into your chair.  The very truth of your existence is enough to reduce you to tears.  And you really want to impress them?  That doesn't make sense.  No, you're acting out to give yourself some power, to oppress someone the way you've been oppressed."
"I understand that every day is a reminder of what you've become and that you can't escape it, but sending legions of undead to the land of the living won't change anything."
"And your psychobabble and diagnoses will change things?"
"Well, it's what I do.  And by understanding why you act the way you do, you can change.  You can remove the undead from the land of the living."
"What I would choose to do no longer matters.  You have challenged me.  You must now meet my terms."
"Oh.  Well, what is your challenge, then?"
"You like to analyze others.  How would you take to being the one under scrutiny?"
"What?  Me get analyzed?  Been there, done that.  You can't really become a therapist without becoming acutely aware of your own issues.  Well, not a good therapist, anyway."
"No, nothing as simple as analysis.  I am speaking of someone looking into your very soul.  Understanding you the way you claim to understand others.  Someone who is more than capable of tearing you apart from the inside out."
"Wait.  Are you going to try to psychoanalyze me?"
"No.  I tire of talking with people.  I have to do it all the time when the spirits arrive before me.  But I will choose a champion among my fallen souls.  One who is your match.  One whose evil goes beyond simple diagnoses.  One who can destroy you with a word.  Your challenge is to best my champion in a battle of wills and wit.  You will peer deep into each others' beings, and the one who comes out intact, shall win the challenge!"
"Couldn't I just make you cry or something?"
"Nay, mortal.  You must meet my champion.  My champion..."
"Oh, you have adjustment disorder, by the way."
Samhain, Lord of the Dead
Diagnosis: Adjustment Disorder With Disturbance of Conduct

"Did you interrupt just to officially diagnose me?"
"Well, it's kind of what I do.  And you were building to something, so I thought I'd just get it out of the way now."
"And you had to complete your diagnosis?"
"I just kind of wanted to."
"My champion will destroy you."
"Please.  How evil can your champion possibly be?  I can't imagine a person I'd be so afraid of that..."
"For my champion I choose LOLOTTE!"