A few minutes later, Artholath stared at the inn from under the hood of his brown traveling robes after disembarking the odd carriage that had taken him there. An inn, of all things. He hadn't known what to expect when the fires of the archangel's blade had engulfed him; truth be told, he hadn't the ability to think anything at the time. Prior to that event, he could only speculate what rested beyond the realms of life. Either archangel blades had interesting teleportation properties, or he was in fact well and truly dead. An odd thing, death was. It didn't feel a bit different to him. 

His human form seemed trivial, yet he remained in it for the sake of playing along, for he didn't imagine that a demon walking into an inn would be a common sight - even in the afterlife.

He needn't have worried, as the very first thing he saw upon entry was the true form of a demon that easily rivaled his largest cousins, a being that resembled a half-shifted dragon, and a creature that looked as though it had just walked out of the forests he had strode through what felt like a mere two days before. Of course it wouldn't be an ordinary inn. [i]Such is the oddity of death,[/i] he thought in a way  that seemed very wise in his mind. It made him feel better after he made the unwise mistake that brought him here.

Removing his hood, Artholath sat at a table near the bar, looking over the other guests. Some appeared to be mortal, and as he had observed earlier, others quite the opposite. Plainly, death didn't judge. Which was fine, he would. He couldn't stand the sight of humans anymore. Now, the demon was interesting, and obviously a high figure. He wondered how that one would compare to the other two he had been in service of.

He pulled out a small arrowhead with purple stains from the folds of his robes, staring at it for a while, contemplating it and his new state of death.