Benjamin Graham normally rose from his bed as the sun set. His trade started when many others locked their doors, thinking themselves safe. Today however was different, he needed something important from the city. So he left the dingy blinds in his cottage open so that the light of day would stream into his face. Benjamin opened his dull eyes with a hiss. They had once been a colorful hazel, but his many years and long hours working at night had reduced them to a filmy brown. He got out of bed, his body creaking and popping with every motion. Once he got up and moving the pain of age would go away... mostly. He went to make a futile attempt to comb his hair. In his youth it had been raven black. Now it was a greasy, unkempt gray. Benjamin gave In but did manage to get the grave dirt from last night out of his hair.
He looked for something to wear, but realize that all his old normal clothes were for a younger man. Benjamin grunted, perhaps it was for the best. He threw on his Grave Keeper uniform. Knee length boots of a waterproof make, dull gray trousers, a warm forrest green button up shirt, a cloak starting at the shoulder and ending at the waist, finally a wide brimmed hat. The uniform was designed to keep off the rain, provide warmth, protection, and scare off unsavory sorts.
Dressed, Benjamin stepped out of his cottage and into one of his charges, the inner city cemetery. He was bound for a dusty old street in the Bracken district. The cemetery was located in the Wilted Rose district, a bit of a walk. As he went down the street he got to see the terrified reaction of the people of Ashtyn. Young children hid behind their mothers, priests prayed once he passed, beggars abandoned their squats, and people crossed the street to be away from the his terrible presence. Benjamin was used to it, he paid them no heed.
Many rumours were told about 'Old Ben'. That he only ate grave dirt and coffin worms. That he knew when and how you were gonna die. And that he was a 150 years old. Never ask a young man your age! He was only 114. Most of that other stuff was only rumor, he was only a man, granted a stubborn one. He had done his job for nearly a century, and he could feel in his bones his time was running out.
Throughout the years, Ben had seen many colleges and apprentices cut down, dying premature, grisly deaths. You never know, maybe this next batch was lucky. Benjamin was woken, from his nocturnal rest the day before by the old lady who ran the Grave Keeper office. She told him that a young man and woman had just signed up for Grave Keeping. That brought the total of Grave Keepers in the city to three. Counting himself.
He reached the office. A dusty, filthy building, that hadn't seen a lick of paint in years. Ben sighed and walked in, ignored the office lady yelling at him to collect his pay, and into the small sitting room. He cleared his voice, and in a grating voice that isn't used to being used, asks the people sitting there, "So, you are the two who ruined their lives."
He looked for something to wear, but realize that all his old normal clothes were for a younger man. Benjamin grunted, perhaps it was for the best. He threw on his Grave Keeper uniform. Knee length boots of a waterproof make, dull gray trousers, a warm forrest green button up shirt, a cloak starting at the shoulder and ending at the waist, finally a wide brimmed hat. The uniform was designed to keep off the rain, provide warmth, protection, and scare off unsavory sorts.
Dressed, Benjamin stepped out of his cottage and into one of his charges, the inner city cemetery. He was bound for a dusty old street in the Bracken district. The cemetery was located in the Wilted Rose district, a bit of a walk. As he went down the street he got to see the terrified reaction of the people of Ashtyn. Young children hid behind their mothers, priests prayed once he passed, beggars abandoned their squats, and people crossed the street to be away from the his terrible presence. Benjamin was used to it, he paid them no heed.
Many rumours were told about 'Old Ben'. That he only ate grave dirt and coffin worms. That he knew when and how you were gonna die. And that he was a 150 years old. Never ask a young man your age! He was only 114. Most of that other stuff was only rumor, he was only a man, granted a stubborn one. He had done his job for nearly a century, and he could feel in his bones his time was running out.
Throughout the years, Ben had seen many colleges and apprentices cut down, dying premature, grisly deaths. You never know, maybe this next batch was lucky. Benjamin was woken, from his nocturnal rest the day before by the old lady who ran the Grave Keeper office. She told him that a young man and woman had just signed up for Grave Keeping. That brought the total of Grave Keepers in the city to three. Counting himself.
He reached the office. A dusty, filthy building, that hadn't seen a lick of paint in years. Ben sighed and walked in, ignored the office lady yelling at him to collect his pay, and into the small sitting room. He cleared his voice, and in a grating voice that isn't used to being used, asks the people sitting there, "So, you are the two who ruined their lives."
