[color=6ecff6][i]Ah well. It was a good life. I suppose I never did get to see the rest of the world, but what can be done? I feel awfully heavy though. I'd imagine that it's time I got started on my stay in purgatory. This'll take quite a bit of time. Heheh.[/i][/color]

Edward felt a stirring from within. Perhaps it was the afterlife calling. It felt awfully cushy, though it smelled rather musty and dank... rather like that accursed tavern he had died in. 

Slowly, he cracked open the lids of his eyes, and through the blurry haze he could make out a beautiful figure above him. [color=6ecff6][i]Strange,[/i][/color] he thought. [color=6ecff6][i]This doesn't seem quite as bad as that old geezer Priest back at home said.[/i][/color] But as his eyes regained their full spectrum, he gasped in shock. It was Pallas! She sat above him frozen like a doll, cradling him gently in her arms. In terror, he shot up, stumbling away from her statue like arms into the center of the tavern. His eyes darted back and forth, trying to gain his bearings. 

It was The Bawdy Dog. He calmed down a bit, though his fear turned to dubious curiosity. His purgatory was a recreation of The Bawdy Dog, complete with still figures, like perfectly cast wax dolls of all the people who were present when he died. He exhaled in wonderment. Why did it turn out this way? And why the odd decoration?

He looked around again, to see what strange statues he'd spend the next several hundred years with. 

The bloody feather clad demon who mocked him earlier was laid out across the table, caught in a pose that looked like a dance. He clicked his tongue in disgust. 

His unsavory former music instructor was frozen in a duel with the scantily clad bandaged woman. [color=6ecff6][i]Ugh. Now his smug face will haunt me for years.[/i][/color]

A short dwarf stood in between them, appearing to be calling for peace.

The priest stood by Pallas, with a stern expression at the drunk, who was lying on his back with a panicked look on his face. 

The unkind wolf girl bartender was frozen in a scream. 

The bartender and the barmaid were frozen in fear. 

The young girl was hunched over, breathing heavily, clutching at her bloodied chest, where a knife was lodged.

At least that odd grey skinned girl was nowhere to be found. 

Wait. Edward’s head turned slowly to Milo. She was moving, and panting for air, appearing to be in dire need of immediate medical assistance. 

[i][color=6ecff6]What a dreadful apparition,[/color][/i] thought Edward, not thinking for a second that he should help her. 

He sighed, and sauntered over to the bar, taking a pensive sip from one of the tankards on the countertop as he surveyed the room again. This was reality for the next several hundred years, so he might as well get used to it. 

He made his way back to the frozen duel, pulling off Seloria’s cloak and throwing it over Ealdwine’s face. At least that would help for at least several decades.

At the center of the tavern, he laid back into the bust of Pallas (oho), bemusedly cradling her concerned face in his hands. He smiled for a bit, before his expression faded into resignation. There would be no exit. At least not for a long while. 

[color=6ecff6]“Well, well, let’s get on with it.”[/color]