Before this... second life, I learned the grain of wood in my father's shop. When war reached Hyjal, he stayed behind, crafting arms for those bound to the summit. I fled to Lordaeron. His final letter came from that mountain camp, and no word followed. My death was likely no gentler than his. When I rose in Undercity, it felt like years had passed--but barely two had. You look capable of the climb. Any remnant you find of my father, Lawrence Sawyer, would bring me solace.