The Front Desk

Astor stirred in his chair, meekly slapping at the air a bit before starting to slump out of the chair and catching himself with a start. he looked around wide-eye'd, inspecting his environment. The sight was somewhat normal, besides the blood on the floor. The desk read "Dan" and Astor knew at that moment...that he had no idea what was going on.
The young man , rather wobbly, got to his feat and, looking rather pale, he trudged up to the desk and spoke "where am I? and where can I get some food?"
The lack of spatial awareness was something that Astor very rarely felt, and it made him uneasy, stirring him on with adrenaline. After the beating at the hands of the reaper and how expertly he exhausted himself trying to shift away, he was likely only kept up by adrenaline, bandages, and a good deal of hope.

Dan glanced up from his desk when Astor began to stir, pleased that he could finally get on with the rest of his work day.

"You're in the Everclear arena. You have died, and when your soul was reaped, it was brought here to have a second chance at finding an afterlife."

Dan shuffled some things about on his desk, flipping a few pages back in his tome and preparing a pen. "You will fight in the arena for the glory and fondness of the various gods that live on this plane of reality. Should one of them take a shine to you, you'll be granted entry to their glorious afterlife."

He motioned Astor toward the desk, paperwork already turned toward the young man for ease of reading. "But before you can do that, or make your way to the cafeteria for a meal," Dan paused to smile wryly, "You must read over this paperwork and verify that the information here is correct. Once you sign, you may collect a map and be on your way."

The man dressed behind the desk dressed in an odd manor to Astor, but his outfit seemed to emit an air of authority. The plate at the front of his desk made no sense to him, it obviously had script on it of some sort, but it was not of any language Astor knew. In a rather off-putting fashion, the script shifted in his mind to read "Dan" and at once he understood, and yet at the same time he understood even less about this place.

"That was...concise." he said. "Thank you, lord...Dan. I'm so very thankful to be given a second chance at life, but... I'm not much of a warrior. why me?"
"And seriously, lets just say I have a blood sugar problem, you wouldn't happen to have any food on you? a snack maybe? I can pay you, I have coins" He adds as he drops 3 cobalt colored coins on the desk atop the document.

Dan squinted for a moment at the coins, unsure what kind of currency they were supposed to be and baffled by their color. It wasn't often that souls wandered in and offered to pay him for things.

"That's not necessary," he eventually said, opening one of his drawers and rummaging for a moment before pulling out a granola bar and sliding it toward Astor. "Wouldn't want you taking another trip into unconsciousness."

Dan realized maybe a moment too late that the crinkly plastic packaging would probably be foreign and strange to Astor, but he wasn't going to unwrap the man's food for him so he'd have to endeavor through it on his own.

"The reapers aren't typically chatty enough to explain their choices, though sometimes I'd really like them to."

Astor picks up the packaged food-stuff with a dubious grip and eye's it for a brief second before biting into the bar with a little too much eagerness. Watching the display, it was obvious that Astor did eat some of the plastic wrapper, but quickly found the sweet prize inside and intuitively took it to be the main event of the snack.
"It's a start, I thank you lord Dan, I will do my best to overcome your paperwork"
He read the paper and the script made odd sense to him, and he saw many details about himself. It was all true, and it lent credence to the parts about himself that he didn't even realize about himself.

Cause of death:... He scribbled his mark at the bottom of the page. with a rushed hand.

"you said something about a map?"

The corner of Dan's mouth twitched up as he watched Astor tear into a bit of the wrapper. The spectacle was well worth a portion of his lunch.

"Yes. There should be a map for you near the door as you're on your way out. Best of luck to you, Astor of the Paphos."

He gestured toward the lobby doors, and then at the last map that lingered helpfully on a side table.

Astor unceremoniously strides towards the door grasping for the map and unfolding it. He views the shifting script and incomprehensible geometry of the map for a short moment before it becomes clear. His target was in sight, and he would find it. Determination griped him as he pushed through the door, and off to the FEAST HALL!