Mortgart, the Horrible was a mean ol’ Asmorgantuan. Among the them, there were no scarier, none more able to chill human blood, curdling it into a frozen ooze of fear. Mortgart was the best.
Through jutting fangs, Mortgart took his son by the hand, saying “Ok son, our family has terrorized humans for centuries. Now you must carry on that tradition and scare the bejesus out of them yourself,”
“I know, Dad,” said Thorgart, looking small, “I’m just not very good at it!” he said.
“It’s in the blood, son, once you do it once, everything will fall into place.. Now behold, the horror!” Mortgart closed his eyes, and educed and ancient spell of invisibility. Creeping up on a passerby, Mortgart appeared before the woman who beheld his gaping maw and let out a bone-chilling scream and fainted.
“See?” dad said to son, “Your turn,”
Dutifully, Thorgart went invisible, crept up on his victim, appeared before a child and vomited. “I’m so sorry.. sorry indeed. I’m terribly.. I..”
Mortgart slapped his head, “Why do i bother!?”