It was unknown, the length of time that he spent in the void of unconsciousness. Scott? Blackthorne? Fatass? For a time he knew nothing of himself, or even that such a thing as 'self' existed. Once a minute amount of coherence returned to him, he rapidly regained that very sense of self that he lacked. However, he found himself in quite the strange location.

"A grave yard?" he asked curiously. His voice seemed muted, as though the air was thicker than it should be.

He wandered idly through the headstones for a moment, noting that the colors of the world were as muted as the sounds that he made. In fact, everything was shades in black and white intermixed with the occasional bit of grey.

"Is this at the bottom of that pit? Where's all the rocks?" There was no sign of debris, just an endless field of tombstones and overgrown graves.

The first true flash of color that he saw in this strange and morbid landscape was a tiny marble that twinkled gently like a gemstone that had caught the light in just the right way. The oddly compelling little marble drew his attention readily. It was incredibly obvious that it was something important, given how it was offset from the world.

Blackthorne lifted the little marble into the air then peered thoughtfully at it. A strange odor assaulted his nostrils. "Perfume..."

Unbidden images suddenly assaulted his mind. He gasped aloud as a desperate memory that was not his own played out inside his head. A beautiful woman dressed in her best clothes had gone to see her lover. However, she was not the only one whom he loved and the other woman had set a trap.

"She slit her throat from behind... then drove the corpse to a boat and tossed her body into the ocean..." Blackthorne peered at the little glimmering marble for a moment. Was what he had seen something that truly happened, or was it just his imagination.

A crack formed along the edge of the marble and then it burst apart and became dust. A softly shimmering light flowed into his fingertips and then the marble was no more.

"I see," spoke a soft masculine voice from outside Blackthorne's field of view. "You are indeed such a person."

Blackthorne whipped his reptilian head around and stared at the newcomer for a brief instant before his eyes widened and he drew back in shock. "The grim reaper?"

Burning red eyes hidden inside the impenetrable darkness beneath the hood of a tattered shroud, the specter of death had come for a visit. In his black leather clad hands he wielded a wicked scythe, but it was not held in a threatening manner.

"I'm not particularly grim," replied the specter of death. "Though, I do have a job to perform."

"Am I dead then?" asked Blackthorne.

"What did you expect? You fell into a massive ravine and were crushed under tons of dirt and debris. You're fairly sturdy, but not nearly enough to survive that sort of thing," replied the not-so-grim reaper.

"So, I guess there is life after death. Can I go back or is this it for me?" asked Blackthorne. In all honesty, he had no idea what he should feel or think at the moment. So, he focused on the obvious questions.

"Do you have any tokens?" asked the hooded specter.

"Tokens? I think I've seen them mentioned but I have no idea," replied Blackthorne.

"You shouldn't have any, actually. The system has not started handing them out to normal players," said Death. "Normally, you would need one token at minimum to return to life. Though if you take the cheap way out you'll suffer for a time."

"How so?" queried Blackthorne.

The reaper spun his scythe around in place once for emphasis, then said, "One token returns you to life but you have to make a choice. Either you are reset to base level one, without skill points and attribute points to spend, or you are flung to some random part of the world and have to find your own way home."

"That seems harsh." Blackthorne shook his head. "Who thought that sort of penalty was a good idea?"

"The people who did not want this world to remain permadeath," replied the reaper. "Complain if you wish, it's still more of a chance than people in this world had before."

"That's certainly true..." Blackthorne lowered his head briefly. A few minutes passed, while neither of them spoke.

Eventually, Blackthorne ended the awkward pause. "This may sound odd, but why am I so calm? I should be freaking out right now."

"This place mutes everything, even emotions. Only logic and the true will remain fully intact. This allows you to make a decision without impulsiveness, and thus it is more binding," replied the specter.

"I see... So, what happens now?" asked Blackthorne.

"If you have no tokens you can attempt a trial of heroism," replied the somewhat grim reaper.

"Heroism?" asked Blackthorne. "What do you mean?"

"The hero descends into the land of the dead and then returns from the underworld irrevocably changed." The reaper spun his staff around lightly. "Pass the trial, and regain your life. You may also come to understand an important aspect of your own existence. This sort of business is rife for the creation of the occasional epiphany."

Even the afterlife was filled with videogame tropes. This was a side quest to return to the land of the living!

"Those tokens you mentioned? How do I get them? Are they just for respawn purposes?" asked Blackthorne.

"You will earn three if you complete the trial. You can also earn them for defeating bosses, and for certain milestones," replied Death. "They can be saved up for various purposes such as upgrades, or better resurrection capacity."

"There's more than one way to be resurrected?" asked Blackthorne.

"Yes. Two tokens will resurrect you with a short term death curse that weakens your status. However, you will be within the same region where you died." The reaper held up three fingers. "Three tokens will allow you to resurrect at the nearest holy site, or your home site if you have made such an official location. There is no curse involved for that price range."

"This trial. It's to get those three tokens for a proper resurrection, correct?" asked Blackthorne.

"Actually, no. It grants you the right to return to life curse free, and as a bonus you receive enough tokens to bypass such a necessity of such a trial the next time that you die," replied the reaper.

The dragon acquired a crafty expression. "So, how many times can I take the trial?"

"Once per year," said the Reaper. "Though, you may attempt the trial in order to bring someone else back to life. The three tokens earned would be used for their resurrection and passing the trial would be for your own sake."

"My sister!" Blackthorne pounced forward and glared darkly at the specter. "I want to take a trial to bring her back."

The specter looked quietly down at him for a moment. "Your sister passed long before the system came into effect. I am sorry. I cannot authorize that..."

"You said I could bring someone back!" snapped Blackthorne. He growled angrily at the incarnation of death itself and took a menacing step forward.

The specter merely nodded his head once, and seemed completely unconcerned about the menacing nature of the dragon before him. "Perhaps there is another way. You are as you are. Why not seek out her scattered memories on your own, and use them to guide you to her?"

"What do you mean? I can really do that?" asked Blackthorne, his voice raw with emotion.

"I highly suggest that you do not follow that course of action, however," said the specter.

"What? Why wouldn't I go after my sister! Do you know how she died? How about my father, and all those other people that you bastards killed with this stupid game?" Blackthorne growled angrily at the dread specter. He was in danger of evolving into a serpent, so much venom had risen to the surface!

"Each time you take the trial, it is that much harder. If you fail, you will never be able to return to either of the worlds you now hail from," said the specter. "Given the amount of time that has passed, it would be nearly impossible to find her unless she wanted to be found. She could even have reincarnated in an entirely different world."

He continued before Blackthorne could follow up. "Furthermore... There is something I think you should know. I have seen it during our conversation."

"What should I know?" asked Blackthorne, his emotions already muted by the graveyard between life and death. Once again he was purely a creature of logic and reason.

The grim specter of death reached up and pulled back his hood. Revealed was not the face of a skeleton, but a surprisingly good looking man. In point of fact, his features were almost too perfect. Inhumanly so.

"Listen to me carefully, Scott. There is an intruder inside your soul. Someone has tapped into you, and it's a two way system," said death.

"What do you mean?" asked Blackthorne.

"I can see it clearly, the obscene violation that has been grafted to your psyche." Death gazed impassively into his eyes then continued, "I would have removed it the moment I saw it, had I the access codes. It is a blatant and willful violation of our highest law.

"Codes? Laws? What are you talking about?" asked Blackthorne. "Make sense, man!"

"Yes. Codes. The laws involving this situation are clear, but the creature who did this to you has made it so they cannot be traced. Without the codes I can only do one thing for you."

"This soul graft? What's it doing exactly? What can you do about it?" asked Blackthorne.

"Someone far less talented than myself seems to have tried to cure your curse. That's how the system designates this sort of thing, by the way. This is an ancient and powerful infernal curse," said the embodiment of death. "I can do what they failed to complete. I can quarantine the spiritual infestation, and make it easier for you to live with it for a time."

"A time? How long? Why would you help me? Who am I that death would take pity on me?" asked Blackthorne.

"A few weeks of solace. That is what I can grant you, as the infestation is festering and grows as it does so. It should have consumed you long ago at this rate, but somehow you've managed not to give in to despair." Death shook his head slightly. "Hopefully, I can root out the one who has done this to you. I have a clear idea of who it is, but do not ask for the name. I cannot speak it here without alerting that heinous creature."

"You know who cursed me? What is this curse? The more you speak, the less I know about any of this!" Blackthorne lashed his tail aggressively then growled. "None of it makes sense!"

"The curse is basically one that causes you to suffer endless despair, hallucinations both visual and audial, and actively reports back to the caster so that they can view the result." said Death. "You've eroded some of it on your own, and that less talented individual has helped you as well. It won't be enough. The curse needs to be lifted, or it will claim you one day."

"Audial hallucin—" Blackthorne's pupils narrowed to serpentine slits. "Those fucking voices! Someone really was putting that shit in my head!"

"Yes. It is so," said Death. He reached over and placed his hand atop the dragon's head. Blackthorne found that it was impossible to move in that moment.

"As for who you are that death would look kindly upon you?" The enigmatic specter offered the ghost of a smile. "You're pretty much family aren't you, Scott? Beyond that, I don't need a reason to want to help a deceased mortal in distress. It is my life's calling, after all."

"You think that I'm... family?" Blackthorne did not know what to make of that statement.

"After a fashion," said Death.

Blackthorne stared at Death, hard. He scented the air and tried to perceive the obvious lie. However, he smelled nothing out of the ordinary save for a strange whiff of wild flowers and various backed goods. Either Death was well beyond his ability to view within his eyes of judgment, or he spoke what he considered to be the truth. He also seemed to lack much in the way of wickedness, and corruption unless the specter was hiding it from Blackthorne's senses.

"That's quite rude, but I'll allow it," said Death lightly.

"You could tell what I was doing?" asked Blackthorne.

"I see all kinds of souls, though I try not to judge them," said Death. "You obviously have a power akin to a Veritas spell. Just be careful with it, as you can easily offend beings who can sense such intrusions."

"I'll keep it in mind..." Blackthorne closed his eyes then snorted. There was much yet to learn from this pale specter, but he had already discovered so many new things.