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Aah, now this is quite the tale! Many years ago I called out to my friends in the spirit realm because I wanted to celebrate my death-day in the grandest of parties - a throwback to my days of living. Ghosts, Ghouls, Ghasts and Spirits from all parts of my life and death came to celebrate and bask in my glory. Just as the party was really starting to get going my friend-turned-nemesis-turned-friend-again (Bartholomew, a longer story for another time perhaps) showed up with this incredible throne. He dazzled us with the story of how he vanquished some massive ape-like beast and then traveled to the fires of Doom (or damnation or something of the sort) to smelt its skull into this glorious seat (with the help of his fellow dwarves of course).
He bade me sit in it stating that this was a seat fit for a king and he believed me to be a king among the dead. I didn’t notice the raven flying overhead - always a portent of doom and terribleness - and so I sat.
The next thing I knew everything was getting fuzzy around the edges and swirling. When my vision became clear again I found myself in a strange room with many large tables, purple walls, and colorful boxes wrapped in plastic. I quickly determined that Bartholomew had tricked me, and I was now tethered to a store - not a house to haunt, no people to spook, just a boring, empty store.
Wait, why is nothing happening...EDITOR! WHY AM I STILL HERE??