Scenario – The Father
Character – The Poet
Skill – Inspiration
My dear Louale –
As the weather of this city night turns to an iron downpour, it grows closer to matching the color and intensity of my crippling sadness. I write you with the worst of news. Your son, your beautiful son Mauro, has been found dead.
The fateful event transpired just yesternight. I had nearly returned to my rooms from one of my haunts, a cozy drinking establishment down in Dockside which fear I never shall find the strength to patronize again, when I espied a knot of youths gathered at the yawning mouth of an alley. A guard stood sentinel over a crumpled form.
That form – I gasp to even write it – that sad form was the pale body of your dear, beloved son. O Mauro! Snatched from us in the very bloom of youth! None saw you fall. There is no one to relay to us the words of your final breaths. They say you stumbled, that you simply fell, and fall you did; you fell from the height of virtue like a meteor which burns too bright to flare for long.
Forgive me, my Louale. I weep as I scrawl these words, so unequal to their purpose. Mauro was found unconscious, and guard believes he had somehow tripped and stuck his head on a stone. To be stolen by such a trifle, such a mundane thing. The sight of it was brutal. I take consolation in knowing that he is now in heaven with the saints.
My infinite condolences for your loss, my good, great friend. I have made arrangements for a box and for your son’s transport back to your lands. I will visit your home as soon as I am able, but I knew the courier would reach you before I could. I hold you ever in my heart. Know that I grieve with you.
Yours in sadness,
Result: Anthony commends you for your letter and wishes you to speak at his son’s funeral.
Got some good rolls on this one.