Death nods sympathetically, "Few truly are. But know that every end is also a beginning.
Death casts their eyes downward, the corners of his mouth twitching with a hint of annoyance. "Ah, yes. About this place... You see, it's a rather strange tale."
Fidgeting with his attire, Death takes a deep, unnecessary long breath. "A few days ago—or was it eons? Time tends to blur—a rather insolent raven came tapping at my window pane. Not just any raven, mind you, but one with an attitude that could rival the surliest of souls."
"They squawked and squabbled, demanding my attention. And when I finally gave in to their incessant cawing, the bird dropped a heavy responsibility onto my already overburdened shoulders. It seems this bar," Death gestures around with an exaggerated sweep of his arm, "was without an owner, and the raven believed I was somehow equipped to find a suitable replacement."
Just as Death's voice hits a crescendo of frustration, a mocking caw echoes from the bar's shadowy corners. "Ah! There it is, the embodiment of my recent vexation."
From the darkness, a voice drips with sarcasm, "Did you find my task too challenging, Reaper? Or perhaps you're just too engrossed in your existential woes to deal with a simple bar?"