The line of dearly departeds is long. With many a soul waiting patiently farther at the front, while others converse freely at the farther back. The moon of end times shines down to light up the entire realm. A realm populated by the dead, those who had passed on by a multitude of means, and those who watched over them. Those watchers are called Psychopomps, ushers of the dead, and servants to the goddess of fate, death, and rebirth. The Lady of Graves, as the souls called her. This realm is called The Boneyard, and it is a vast necropolis filled with countless courtyards, monuments, graves, and forums teeming with the souls of the dead awaiting judgement. Each of these courts is guarded by a representative of the gods. However, our focus takes us to the souls themselves, as what happens when the dead are left to their devices to wait for judgement? Well, they have quite a time, I’d say.  This story is a small collection of happenings within the boneyard, shenanigans, hijinks, and an the occasional roudiness, inspired by and based on Pathfinder’s Boneyard. Sit back and enjoy some light-hearted attempts at comedy by me here and there, as well as reunions, and other prior goofery mentioned.  Welcome to Back at The Boneyard.