From a wind-worn manor resting atop a stone massif deep in Carpathia, his piercing gaze falls upon the treeless road that spirals down towards the rustic village many miles below. Setting down his goblet, he trades it grasp for the neck of a humble hollow-body, from which he plucks out a series of dark arpeggios that shake the ravens from the ramparts.

Elegant, decadent, and stained in both crimson and black, Coffin presents this leather-tipped guitar strap of macabre provenance. Drape it around your neck and maybe your next riff will live forever.