A Grave reprieve

Felix Flordenlord, is from a relatively large and old town. He works as a grave digger, as well as tending to the crypts, he grew up in the profession, practically the family business. Felix's father was a grave digger, as was his father before him and his father before him, but his father before him was Swordsman for hire. Nothing high born, but a decent mercenary, with a respectable reputation. He even got his own crypt, where the subsequent Flordenlords were laid to rest.

Felix is 6 feet tall, slim (but good muscle definition from all the digging) and very attractive (as far as human males go). Short wavy (some might say floppy) brown hair, with frosted tips (Must be friends with an alchemist). He likes nice clothes, although they aren't the newest, and have a slight earthiness to them.

Digging graves, even with his families magical spade, is not Felix's idea of a fulfilling life. However he has found that spending the rest of his time in Pubs, Taverns, Dance Halls, Casinos, does make him pretty happy. The "Bar" has been his 2nd home, growing up playing cards, sneaking drinks, telling tales (some tall). As such he developed a skill at spotting deception or others moods, resulting in plenty of pots at the poker table. Even when he won those around him were never too angry, he got along with most.

But the cemetery, graveyard, always came calling, he had a duty, a Flordenlord duty, to perform.

There's not a lot of mental stimulation in his profession, so Felix became an expert at names and dates. Reading from the tombstones and Crypt plaques, he began (in his early teens) to greet them "Good morning Mr. Glomkin" as he walked by. "Oh Mrs. Feverstill don't get up, it's only me, Felix. Yes yes, I'll pull those weeds." And that led to more involved (one sided) conversations. Soon enough he had plenty of company during his digging and tending hours.

Until one day, when he was 18;
"You know it's Blomkin, not Glomkin. The engraver got it wrong and my family were too poor, or disinterested, to do anything about it."
Felix about soiled his drawers and fell back into the grave he had been digging.

The spirit of Mr. Blomkin had appeared above his grave and spoke to Felix.

"Well you're not the only bored soul around here" Mr. Blomkin explained.

It wasn't long before Felix was visited by many more spirits around the cemetery, and eventually he learned to call upon them too.
"Mr. Glom-Blomkin........you seen my bucket?"

However one spirit, or family of spirits, were not called upon by Felix. In fact he avoided that area of the cemetery, where the Flordenlord crypt sat.

Until one day - after many drinks and losing track of time Felix remembered he had to prepare a grave site for a morning burial. Stumbling his way back to work in the dark he took his old route, one avoided for several years, which carried him directly past the Flordenlord crypt. A massive spectre rose up in front of Felix, blocking his path.
"Who-err-yoo" Felix queried with blurred eyes.

To cut a long story short (too late) it was the first occupant of that crypt, his sword wielding ancestor, Florial Flordenlord. Florial instructed Felix to push the lid off of his sarcophagus in the crypt, retrieve his great sword, replace the lid, and get the hell out of town to find a more interesting life. The end.