So, you've died. Tough break, but as you can see, not terribly uncommon. You're probably missing your loved ones right now, maybe worried about what happens next. Also, this is probably different from what you expected, if you expected anything at all. A room with a reasonably comfortable couch and a pink, maybe even salmon tint to the wallpaper, kept at a cool 68 degrees F. Pink is calming. No, you're not in Heaven. Sorry. Purgatory? No dice, Catholics. Doesn't exist. Yes, you are in Hell, but don't panic, it's totally not what you think. When you're ready, just walk over to the door, put on the complementary robe and moccasins and walk outside. I think you'll be pleasantly surprised.
The shit I have to wake up to every day.
Got a call from the local Thieves Guild telling me some adventurer shanked one of their guys. It was 2:00 AM. This happens at least once a month. First of all, it boils my blood something fierce that something called "The Thieves Guild" is even allowed to operate in my jurisdiction. The arrogance of those little bastards. Give me five minutes in their guild hall and I bet I'd find half the hot goods reported missing from the past six months. You ask me, every single one of them that ends up with a +2 Mythril Longsword in his gut or a magical phasic arrow in his skull did something to deserve it. Beats the hell outta me why anyone would try to make a living on theft in a world full of heavily armed, spell-slinging sociopaths. They never learn, though. They just leave it up to me to mop the mess.