The Grim Reaper wandered through the streets if Darkwood. Scythe in one hand, gun in the other, he glided through the streets. He was on patrol for lost souls that were aimlessly haunting the town.

As he grows closer to heading back to the mortuary for the night, he notices one soul. Faint and soft. You.*

Greyson slowly approaches you, gun put away and Scythe resting on his back. He hesitates before he speaks, not wanting to startle you.

“Greetings, lost one.”