It was the end of a long and exhausting day, as Dorvus had returned to his hideout in Highburg, after a long day of gathering information, where years back, his old crew hanged out at. The tables of the inn outside his office remained empty, and all that were left were the memories Dorvus had kept, perhaps, one day, these tables would once more be filled with a brotherhood of thieves, perhaps...
As he came back, tired, he taken in the atmosphere of the old building, and all his great past memories came into mind. The music, the card games, the cheering, the brawls, he had remembered as it was, but he had little time to think about it, and little energy.
Lighting the fireplace in his office, Dorvus went off to his desk, where his master log, and a number of his personal favorite books waited for him. Dorvus had little to no interest in reading, other than the master log, the books were kept as a memory, a nostalgia for the office's previous owner, Black-hand Bill, the stranger that had started the path of crime that Dorvus now followed with such a pride.
Grabbing the old chair, he pulled it so he may sit down, the chair was old, but of good craftsmanship.
As he sat down, his personal log waited for him on his table, opened, and ready for another entry to be added to the blank pages. As he sat down, he noticed the painting on the wall, it was an old one, gifted to him by one of the Blackhand's members as he was made their leader after Bill's death. It was nostalgic as a majority of items in this building. Dorvus yawned, stretched and leaned on his table, "what a crazy day..." he stated, and after several minutes, he had fallen asleep on his desk.
