I thought the story would be a lot more interesting...
Daylight shone through the high windows in the Alabama State Courthouse. Various important-looking people milled around, while a stoic and judicious looking judge sat high atop its podium, surveying the courtroom. The Crown Prosecutor, a fat, pompous pig of a man sat with a cigar hanging out of his mouth, one hand upon his package. The defense council sat across him, on the other end of the flat, horizontal table. The woman was ugly to say the least, with a face that repels meteors from planet Earth.
"What about this EndMaster fellow?" The prosecutor asked, blissful in his ignorance.
"E-e-enMaster?" The defense lawyer sputtered. She didn't know him personally, but if the legends were even half-true, she knew she should be balking in terror.
"We do not speak of such things." The judge corrected in its voice that was neither male nor female.
"Yes! Why not EndMaster?" He rumbled on like the dumb piece of shit he was. The judge let out a heavy sigh, but read the dreaded name "EndMaster" from a piece of paper.
A hooded figure, that stood at about eight feet approached the center of the packed courtroom. "What?" Came the laconic, drawling voice. The very sound of his voice sent shivers down everyone's spine.
"You've been selected for jury duty; do you have any valid reasons as to why you cannot perform?"
"Impotent mortals..." EndMaster, dreaded God of CYS muttered. He threw off his cloak, and a collective scream filled the courtroom. What he showed them would drive any man mad, so this retelling has spared you it. The smell of searing retinas filled the courtroom, as everyone's minds began to silently beg them to forget.
The God of Death left the courtroom with a smile that day, leaving behind only bumbling incompetents in his wake...