Three hours later, I stride from the ruin, a new sense of purpose, and short nap having renewed me. My boots make no noise now, and all my paraphenalia is focused on vengeance to the exclusion of all e-- Hey, a party!

The Chain of Command stabs a flyer from the wafting breeze ... 'Hmm. D'you think Tyr counts as a nature, rebirth or fertility deity?'

*clink*

'No, I'm not gonna ask him. What are you high?'

*clink*

'True enough, I guess that is an answer of sorts. No matter. There are more important molehills to burn. Bridges to make mountains out of, or lead horses to or something. Wossname. Had it a minute ago. Right, Vengeance.'

At the word, The Weapon clinks ominous agreement, While the Indifference Machine, typically, couldn't care less, and the worlds only pair of Tabi Split Toe Combat Boots carry me soundlessly into the gathering night. Somewhere, someone knows something.

Presumably.

"Gosh, that was quick. Love this town. So, nature deities, huh?"

Bob looks at the flier. "Says fertility deities, too" he says hopefully.

Achmed clears his throat. Odd, the way his cough sounds like "corset."

"I wonder if Eris counts as a nature deity. She is the Goddess of Chaos, and chaos is pretty natural. Easy costume, too, get a toga, paint an apple gold, eat hot dogs without buns."

"Aphrodite's always fun, too. If you wanted to recreate the 'rising from the waves' bit."

I smile sweetly at him. "You could be Cupid."

"Um..."

Achmed coughs again.

"Achmed, are you OK?"

"Me, sitt? No, no, I'm fine ... *corset*."

I notice the poster. A spring fling it says. What a horrid idea for a horrid season. Worse yet it encourages dressing up as deities that abhorr. Well that's one event that I won't be... What's this, no evil overlords! That's it, I'm going to put on my darkest necromancer robes and attend this travesty.

I look in the mirror, my robe of darkest night is looking dark as ever with the odd little silver skull to spruce things up. Of course no outfit is complete without weapons, so it's time to decide between by trusty sword void or my sword and dagger set death and decay. I choose death and decay since this is social event and they are much flashier than void.

Everything seems in order, it is time for a necromancer to crash a spring fling.

"Must go shopping, buy new clothes!" Edward insists, but I restrain her with a firm hand. Last time we went shopping... it wasn't good.

Instead, I start flicking through my wardrobe, trying to choose something suitable. "Nature deity? Green looks good on me, but I except everyone will do that. Fertility sounds hopeful... I think the skulls might not go with that image, though. Rebirth-- that's better. The black, with green trimmings... the hand-made lace overskirt... I'm onto something here."

I slip the dress on-- ankle length, full skirt, the corset underneath makes it fit so much better-- and do a quick twirl. Edward claps, ironically.

"It feels good. Hang on, what's this?" In the carefully concealed bust-pocket, there is a small grey box, labeled "Mind Control Ray". Could be useful. I put it back and start considering my makeup options.

So this is a spring fling. It's simply appalling, laughter, dancing, and not a sign of misery anywhere. A colorfully attaired female spins by and showers me in cloud of glittering dust. Whatever the spell was, it must have not been cast properly since not a single one of my contingent counter spells was activated. I examine the glittering dust and discover that's it's just glitter. Wonderful, now I'm a necromancer covered in glitter, at least there are no demons about to witness this.

A hand grabs my shoulder and my decay is halfway out of it's scabbard before I realize it's just a man dressed in a white sheet offering me a glass of wine. I take the wine and the man fades into the crowd. The wine is excellent, maybe this celebration isn't so terrible after all.

I spy a beautiful woman laughing with her friends a little ways away, and make my way through the revelry. People dance away from my path or just happen to walk or shift away unaware of the enchantments that parts the crowd. I tap on her shoulder and ask for a dance, I don't know whether she would have refused or accepted, but she hesitates as she looks into the darkness of my eyes and it is too late for the dance has begun.

With the first twirl her outfit transforms into black and long complete with black lace gloves, a vast improvement. As the dance continues, the bright light of day gives way to shadow taking the crowd with it. The dance itself is ancient and formal something from my long past that she executes perfectly without any hint of the next step in her mind. As the pace increases, I become aware of how alive she is, I feel her heartbeat, her breath, the warmth of her touch. We continue to dance alone in the shadow.

Now she takes the lead in this dance she doesn't know, her face a picture of joy. We do longer dance alone for the misty specters of the dead have joined in, drawn by her light. She twirls away and finds a new partner among the dead, lost in this dance that has no end. I watch as she dances ever more quickly and the light around her fades, her form fading amongst the dancers.

Perhaps, it's her beauty or perhaps some strange mood that overtakes me, I do not know. I walk to her, the dead parting before me. She is almost gone as I take her hand and draw her to me, stopping the dance. The daylight and crowd blink back into existence as I lower the limp form to the ground. She gasps as her body starts to draw breath once again, but I am gone before she opens her eyes. I blame my weakness on this season of Spring.

I can go a long time between reminding myself that the lucious Bob is, strictly speaking, a corpse. Oh, sure, there's no heartbeat under my ear when I'm getting comfy and going to sleep, and he's better than an air conditioner on hot summer nights, but that generally gets filed under the "That's just Bob" file in my head.

But in the middle of the springtime revelry, he suddenly stiffens and spins, scanning the room. There's a look on his face I haven't seen in a very long time: the look of a hunter, of something to be wary of. Worse, there's another element to the look: fear. The only thing that normally scares Bob is when I'm leaning over bridges and precipices. Something about me not being able to fly and being unlikely to learn in the few seconds between falling and splatting.

It takes me a moment to clear my throat. "What's wrong?"

"Death is walking here." And, damn, his voice is different, too. And I just saw fang.

I start to offer to leave, but he's gone into the crowd. Hunting death. And, again, it takes a moment for the dichotomy to sink in: Death is hunting death.

I need more food.

Helpfully, they've labelled the dips which have actual blood in them.

the dips with actual blood

Isn't that many of the attendees? t rimshot