Wills

<Roughly folded and shoved into a wrinkled envelope.>

-All of my alcohol is free to the guild, share as you like. Be careful with the ones that have a red stamp on them.

-Whoever wants my armor or clothes can have them.

-If there's a body left after whatever killed me, keep it wrapped and don't do any autopsies or after death viewing or whatever. Don't look at it. Burn it and scatter my ashes over the Undercity. 

-My transmorphic potions should go to someone who needs them. If you don't know what that means, ask Z and then go ask around for someone who needs them. They last 24 hours exactly.

-All of my gold goes to the guild.

-Everything I forgot to put here goes to the guild, too.

Sorry I died. I don't know what to put here.

Rian'vys Bloodwrath

< Folded many times over and stowed into a crumpled envelope. There are smudges, and several scribbled out words and whole sections that can still be made out. The handwriting fluctuates between slow and measured to quick and scrawling characters. >

To my brave swordbrotheren,

It has been a great honour to s

To my fellow servitors,

If you are reading this, I guess I am dea

Dear,


Hi. This is Sibyl. I've heard the question 'are you alright' lately and I'm really not.

Fuck this place. Fuck this blown up sky and these loons who want to worship death or whatever other craziness has crawled up their ass. I hate this place. I hate seeing all these rotten bones shambling around and I hate hearing their stupid voices crowing about eating blood and guts and shit in the middle of the night.

When I went out looking for this job I never thought this would happen. The war had just ended and there wasn't as much talk about the sword anymore. I thought I would sign on and go rough up some bandits, or do bounties, or normal crud like that. Instead it's been crazy cultists and undead from the get-go. I've never been so scared of so many things. I've been waking up at night scared of shadows and every time I start coughing I think I'm going to start rotting into one of those shamblers. I've never had so many nightmares.

I'd say I want to go home but they're in Boralus too. If I weren't with you all I'd probably have died there already.

I don't know what to do with my stuff. I don't think I have any family left. I have some friends in Boralus and a few years worth of one night stands. If I have anything worth keeping you can split it up among yourselves. All my stuff is either in the footlocker by my bunk, my fiddle case, or at my apartment in Boralus if it hasn't been sacked by ghouls by now. If you find him make sure Mr. Stokes goes somewhere nice.

I'll try and list the stuff that might be important or valuable:
- My fiddle
- Savings jar hidden at the top drawer of the kitchen cupboard
- Two bottles of unopened Tempest's Reach fortified brandy, in closet
- Antique hunting rifle, above fireplace
- Box of Sulfuron Cigars in nightstand (please give to Miss Jo)
-

This is real bitter. I'm sorry. I didn't think I'd be writing a will anytime soon. I've been trying to stay calm and be brave and fit in and I just needed to say it or write it somewhere so I did. I don't think I belong here but you all have been really nice to me anyway. I really appreciate that. I promise I don't blame you if something happened. I'm sorry if I screwed something up. I tried my best.

You're a great mama hen Miss Jo.

Thanks. Bye.

Sibyl

If I make it out of Icecrown I'm going to replace this.