Mourn

Mourn remembers very little of who he was before, if he was anything. He woke alone in the heart of the Hallowed lands, surrounded by fresh corpses. Although his memory was a blank slate, he did feel compelled to do one thing... to bury the dead.

And so he did, working tirelessly through the night, unburdened by concerns of who he was or where he came from. Come morning he stood amongst six humble gravestones, tired but feeling content with his efforts. There was some stay wonder of who these newly dead were, did they have anyone who would miss them? Though he had fashioned small cairns for each they were otherwise unidentifiable. The idea that even if a loved one came searching, they would be unable to know if the piles of stones had any meaning at all to them, let alone which could possibly hold who they could be searching for. This filled Mourn with great sadness, and so with little else to do, he wept... and wept... and wept. He wept for each of the fallen, quietly but deeply.