In the infinity of the multiverse, there are many strange material planes existing in parallel. One of the stranger ones is the world of Karsunt.
Karsunt is a disk world, meaning it has a rim around its borders, and you could not walk around it like you might on a globular world. It is, however, fairly large, all things considered.
On this world there live many races, most of which you are likely to meet on most worlds along the central finite curve, such as elves, humans, dwarves, halflings, and so on. One thing however, beyond the strange geography of the place, would likely give any traveler pause, were he ever to stop by on this most unusual world: During the night, when the sun's rays have trickled away, there is also no death. All beings on Karsunt are deathless, as soon as the twilight of dusk begins fade away. And even more horrifying: when the sun rises, death is more present than one could possibly be prepared for: At the edge of the disk world, the figure of a tall, haunted grim reaper stands quietly, and looks down on all of creation. So massive is his figure, that his pinky knuckle would dwarf the tallest mountain, so grand is he, that even form the far side of Karsunt, all the way at the other edge, he is still towers above all, unyielding, his grand scythe pointing down on the land, ready to strike. And strike it does - whenever a sentient creature dies, the scythe rushes down, striking the earth where it falls, reaping the soul away that is now free for the taking.
The name of that figure is Tim-hurr’tè, and he is the Death of Karsunt. Many civilized societies have fallen appart, unable to cope with the clamorous stakkato of death that inevitably follows, when large groups of mortals move together. In few places have the short-lived races such as man found a harsher place to grow. But some tribes have endured, often by implementing societal rules that would seem cruel by other standards.