It was cold and grey around the grave site, the chill bite of the air only reinforced the sense of loss and death, reminding the mourners of the cold inevitability that they faced.  The new widow sobbed over the open grave while close friends and relatives flanked her.  The Cleric droned on in a monotone, reciting the qualities of the deceased man, the accomplishments of his life, the usual ritual of the funeral.<br/>It was all very somber, depressing, boring.<br/><br/>The ground began to hum and writhe and the sobbing was quickly turned into cries of fear as from the ground erupted the skeletal remnants of mice and birds and dogs; tugging, crawling, scratching and clawing at the mourners.  Most panicked at the sight and fled, leaving the handful caught in the animated bones behind.  The Cleric was much swifter in his movement and certainly more stable in his senses wasted no time drawing his mace and knocking the head of the man he was just laying to rest clean off his shoulders as he suddenly burst from his coffin- the sight of which made the widow faint.<br/><br/>"Hey!"  Cried an angry voice from the grave, as up peeked a hooded figure over the edge of the grave, glaring disapprovingly at the headless corpse he held.  "Jaun didn't deserve that."  His voice accused.<br/><br/>The Cleric paused a moment as is tasting something in the air quite foul.  "Die, you evil braggart."  He shouted as he swung- too slow.<br/>"No,"  The hooded figure muttered as he snapped his arm towards the looming Cleric, a sickening green cloud passing between his hand and the clerics face.  "You die, evil braggart."  The mace fell to the ground as the Cleric stumbled back, choking as the flesh fell from his face and he collapsed to the ground with a horrid gurgling sound.<br/><br/>"Poor, Juan."  The hooded figure fussed over the corpse.  "You lost your head."  He paused a moment and though about what he said before bursting into harsh laughter.  "You weren't very head strong, were you?  You certainly didn't have a good head on your shoulders.  You should really pull yourself together!"  Another harsh bark of laughter and Greham dropped the corpse back in it's coffin and clambered out of the grave, making his way away from the frightful scene.<br/>Why did people insist on making death such a morbid and depressing event?  It was the most natural part of life, why couldn't it be celebrated instead?  a persons departure from this hateful world full of those who would only prolong suffering- was that not something for celebration?  Greham paused over a young girl squirming on the ground, held down by the slowly de-animating bones, he scream shrill.  He sighed when he leaned down with his dagger to cut her scream short forever.  "You're welcome."  He smiled as he walked out of the graveyard, a spring in his step.<br/><br/>An hours or so meandering brought Greham to a common tavern.  Unremarkable and indistinguishable from many other taverns in the land- perhaps a little cleaner than usual, though this would most likely be attributed to the rich tourists who often frequented the village.<br/>Greham was bored.  For weeks now he had had nothing better to do than to waste his time tormenting grave sites and making friends with their occupants.  Once again, he entertained the idea of dressing as a healer and visiting the sick to 'release' them.  He passed that idea with a mouthful of ale.  That was fun the first six times, any more would definitely get him into trouble.