GRAND TWEET V: it's over!

Vera was suddenly knocked aside by a leather-covered paw.

"Never look away in a fight! ...What's that weird metal thingy?"

Catarath sighs.

"Still, can't leave graveyard for long. Damn skeletons won't give up. But who to fight... that one."

"Stink? No, no smell at all! Just pure, metallic bee-yutey! Hop right in and start the ride of your life!"

"How dare you touch me with those paws! Damn, who knows what they've touched! I hate anthro's. Disgusting creatures.” Stab towards her.

Accept the plane's offer. I think it will be fun for us both!

"Floating brain, diagnosis: escaped corpse. Gravedigger's code instructions: re-inter."

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"Did I mention metallic beauty? Damn, I'm good looking. I mean it's good looking. And just think about how good you'll look in the cockpit!"

"Haha, that's more like it!"

She knocked her knives away with a blast of solar wind.

"No weapons, though!"

"Business? I do-it-all! Scouting, striking, I've even rained steel on parades! Oh, man you should've seen the look on those kids' faces!"

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I didn't escape! I don't have a body. Why don't you do everything I say so you can be happy?

The shovel swings down, aiming to cleave something more organic than dirt. Just another happy gravedigging day.

The drone tips down towards him, lowering one wing towards the ground to allow him to climb up into its compact cockpit. "Heh. Sucker."

Walks slowly off with her remaining blade. "I'm going to skin you and hang you on my wall!"

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Xehbleb floated away quickly, no longer unaware that Dragonborn resist mind control.

Acting on a cat's instincts and woman's intuition, Shelena dodged a shovel from above.

"Hey! What did I just say? You people are so rude."

Walks faster away from the man in the shiny shoes

The cockpit sealed with a click in seconds. All of the controls seemed to be sealed behind plexiglass, like a fighter plane in a museum.

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Mind-necromancer, class five coffin-hazard. Gravedigger's training very comprehensive. Get out of my head.

Are you sure? You really seem unhappy. Wouldn't you rather be happy?

Xehbleb tried to telekinetically grab the shovel as it thought.

She sprints toward her knife that's been left on the floor. She wants it back. Call it sentimental value.

"Stay out of the way. Official grave-digging business." Catarath brandishes a Union License, rehoists the shovel.