It was a torrential downpour that day. The rain was scheduled for an hour, but it had continued for several. Something was amiss. Could it have been poor organization, or perhaps budget cuts, or even, dare I say, malicious tampering.
Still, Swift was having none of it. Standing, he shielded himself from the rain with an umbrella whilst wandering the not-so-crowded streets of the slums near the graveyard. Most of the spirits had gone inside, and were making a royal mess of things, which seemed to indicate why the first line 'on a dark and stormy night' was so popular.
Most ponies hid in Swift Reaper's path. He had something of a nasty reputation, along with that creepy black scythe of his. He looked rather menacing as he continued towards a recent soul cluster, for they needed to be guided.
But, what in the world could be causing such a torrent of rainfall? The answer remained unknown as Swift heard a sound which he had not heard in many years.