O'Cynen's Funeral

[Rattrap]

Father, farmer and councilor Joseph O'Cynen had been dead for days. His death was discovered shortly before the darkness was lifted, on his own lands. Naturally, such news would not stay on the farm - it would move fluidly throughout Myrken Wood, by word of mouth and occasionally through posted announcements throughout the town. There was no investigation by the Order of Straka, as by all rights Joseph's death appeared to be accidental. After all, the time had been one of a sunless sky and godless creatures roaming freely. Casualties were inevitable.

Through many tears, Ariel O'Cynen would begin writing, often pausing to dry her cheeks if only just to keep the letters dry. She was writing to the councilors, each one in turn. They were simple, formal letters expressing their joint loss and inviting them to her father's funeral. The funeral was not a closed affair; already, several of the local farm folk and town criers were posting signs of the sad event. All were invited to see Joseph O'Cynen to his final resting place, just beside his long departed wife and mother of his children who rested under the big tree on the hill.

One letter was not so formal:

Aloisius Treadwell,
I send this to you as an invitation to join us at my father's funeral. And to express his...respect for you. My father was never a politician, yet often held political positions. He was never too kind with his thoughts towards his fellow councilors, here or the other few places he has had a seat in. They were politicians, and he felt they wouldn't be slow to betray their people if it served in their interests.

But he always had good things to say about you. Of any one else he'd met in a council, he told me, my father felt you would be the last. For that, you earned his respect.

I'm not sure if he ever told you in person, but my father was sorry about the incident when you were found not to be the late Gad Phuri; you've proved yourself a better man than who you were pretending to be.

I hope to see you there.

Sincerely,
Ariel O'Cynen

Despite her best efforts, the tears would not be kept entirely away from the letter, blotting the envelope as she sealed it. The pile was pushed aside so they might be delivered soon, but for now Ariel simply wept.

(OOC: I would certainly love for this to be an event, but I can't schedule anything off-hand. I'll probably keep it on the forums for ease of accessibility (because naturally, any time I pick will be a bad time for a lot of folks). Expect a post to kick it off soon!)

[Treadwell]

Treadwell reads the letter in question as soon as it comes to him, whether he's in the inn, his office in the meetinghouse, in his toy shop, or at his home. It's certainly one to sober him up a touch, and his reply--sent out immediately by a well-paid carrier boy--goes out as soon as the ink dries on the paper.

"Ms. O'Cynen,

Thank you for the kind words in your note. I hadn't suspected your father held me in quite that much esteem. I do hope this mere reply serves as something of a source of consolation when I admit that I, too, am grieved by the loss of such an individual.

I will be present at your father's funeral. Merely let me know when and where once that much is arranged."

Aloisius H. Treadwell