minor obituary

[Mandrake Shilling]

A minor obituary

To the few who knew him, it will come as little surprise that the failed adventurer and sometime card-player Lepus Pox recently died in his room at the Leilon Arms. It seems that his poor health finally caught up with him, and he passed away in his sleep: it is suspected his already weak condition was exacerbated by a festering wound, received at the hands of an elfish mercenary on Rilara.

The evening before he finally kicked the bucket, he was heard feverishly muttering something about the importance of finding an enchanted blade, and something about ‘evil warriors trying to drown Eru in the pond’ … but otherwise there was little sense to be extracted from his ramblings.

To the best of his knowledge, he leaves no heirs, and the closest thing to a will is a brief sentence on scrap of phlegm-coated paper, expressing his desire that his worldly possessions be donated to the war effort.

//cheers to the people I RP’d this character with & may you live long and prosperous/ short and glorious (delete as appropriate) lives.

[NEXUS7]

*Max reads the note and shakes his head and says to hime self"
Was only playing cards with him the other day, such a sad end for a good card man.
*with that he puts 100 gold behind the bard for any one that asks after Pox can have a drink*

[ThrainSil]

*Thrain reads the note. Orders an ale and raises it in a toast to lepus Pox. Can be heard Muttering to himself about hags, North Point and a magical case of the flu that did the fellow in.*

[cappyra]

*Derrick stands in the hall as the acolytes from the Temple of Mist remove the corpse from the room.  The Cleric of Mist stands in the room swinging a small brass lantern.  Her sky blue robes shimmering in the light.  The spiced oil covers the smell of decay.  The priestess mutters a few words over the corpse and then begins an incantation to cleanse the room.  She works for over an hour and then turns to Derrick.

"And so shall the Tempest reclaim this lost soul."

"Yes. Yes.", replies Derrick in a gravelly tone."

"The room is cleansed and cleared of disease.  I trust that you and your obviously successful establishment are grateful for our assistance."

Derrick grimaces and hands the priestess a very large and very heavy pouch of gold.  The priestess nods to an acolyte who scurries up to take the pouch.

"Ah the Tide of Leilon will be pleased at your gracious "donation".  Please do call again if we can be of assistance."  

With that the priestess turns with her acolytes in tow and leaves the Inn.