Who: Baron Samedi and Atropos and open really. More the merrier. What: Digging Graves When: Thursday Evening Where: The Baron's Cemetery Warning: It's the Baron, so plenty.
He was whistling a tune he'd heard somewhere. The lyrics suited him, full of curse words and hidden meanings that where only seen if you read between the lines. It suited his moods. The cemetery he'd bought suited him as well. It put plenty of his own to rest, and the border between these lands and the lands of the spirits was thin enough where he wouldn't have to bother asking for a way back into the lands of the living.
A cigar hung between his lips, and the shovel hung over his shoulders as he walked. Occasionally the shovel banged against one of the head stones, just for his own amusement. He felt no shame in this. Waking up the spirits was fun, even if they'd bitch at him later. He could use some sport. He knew how to insult them, in this city he felt out of the loop and unsure of himself. And he didn't like it.
He set the shovel in the ground at the designated spot and looked down. At least they'd left him a bottle of rum. He'd thank them for that. In his own way. The family had asked him to keep Death back but it wasn't in his hands. He only tangled with death when the person dying was really worth it, and only when it involved those that praised the Baron's name. He dropped the cigarette and crushed it out, uncapping the bottle and taking a swig before pouring some on the ground.
Then, with a whistle, he started digging the grave.