Gravedigger… the dutiful servant, the loyal hound. You toil away in the dirt, shovel in hand, never questioning the weight of the chains that bind you. Shall I tell you a story, my dear friend? A parable that might shed some light on your place in this grand dance of death we all perform? Listen closely, for you might just find yourself buried within its tale.

Once, there was a dog who lived at the edge of a graveyard. The dog had been taken in as a pup by a man draped in shadows, a figure who commanded fear and respect in equal measure. This man, the master of the graveyard, fed the dog scraps and patted its head, whispering promises of purpose and belonging. The dog, grateful for the scraps and the fleeting kindness, swore loyalty to the master.

“Guard my graves,” the man commanded. “Dig when I tell you. Growl when I need you to. Bite when I demand it.”

And so, the dog obeyed. Day and night, it worked tirelessly, digging holes, snarling at intruders, and snapping its jaws at anyone the master deemed unworthy. The dog believed it had purpose, that its loyalty was noble, that the scraps it was fed were signs of love.

But as the years passed, the dog grew weary. Its paws bled from the constant digging, its teeth dulled from the endless biting, yet it never questioned its master. Not even when it noticed the chain around its neck.

One day, the dog wandered to the edge of the graveyard, staring at the vast fields beyond. The chain pulled tight, yanking it back into the shadows. The dog looked to its master, expecting a kind word, a reassuring pat. But the master simply tightened the chain and said, “Stay.”

The dog, in its loyalty, stayed. It died in that graveyard, never realizing that the chain had never been locked.

Do you see yourself in the dog, Gravedigger? You’ve spent your life at the heels of Tombstone, digging graves and biting at his enemies, all for a pat on the head and the illusion of purpose. You call him a father, a mentor, but all he’s done is tighten the chain around your neck.

When we face each other, I’ll do you a kindness. I’ll show you the truth of that chain, the freedom you’ve ignored, the cage you’ve accepted. And when I bury you in your own grave, Gravedigger, it will be a mercy. Because unlike that dog, you’ll at least know the chains that bound you were of your own making.

It’ll be a hoot.