Mourning.
Dan sighed and ran his hands through his hair, it’d been about a week since it was confirmed that his brother was dead by the hands of the horde. He’d denied it at first, even when the death had been confirmed by Harthfolde. This however was the nail in the coffin for his hope, this damned letter. He looked down at it and sighed, reading for the hundredth time. Dear Danirel, I'm not a real sentimental type, or something like that. You know. But, if you're reading this, I most definitely died. That said, I've always wanted one thing to happen. I wanted to be buried in Duskwood. There's a few art pieces in my old room, would appreciate it if you could put them somewhere safe. Right so, remember! Stay alive! It's a good thing. I didn't do much in my life; I just kinda... lived to survive. This is probably kind of peaceful for me. Who knows? Anyways. See you, bud. Aethel. After setting it down on his table he leaned back and knocked back another shot of whiskey. It seemed despite taking an oath to protect those he loved and those who deserved to be protected, he failed to do so. He’d lost so many in the last year. His sister Cass, his brother Calel, and now his brother Aethel. It was just one loss after another. He began to pour another shot and sighed, a tear falling as he stood from where he sat. He knocked back the shot and folded the letter. “I wonder who’s next.” He muttered to himself and made his way out of his room and down the hall towards his father’s room, looking for some form of comfort. @gareththeknight