None of you knew Ichabod like he wanted you to, and he won't be liking how you remember him, neither. He always felt like he had a big old keg of greatness in him, that boy, and nothing we could do would shake it out of him. Boy got the notion that he was born to kill, running round town with a pot on his head and stabbing rats. Tried to get him into farming like his Pappy, of course, but the boy never learned.
Then he got into visitin' the edge of the Wilderness. Cursed if I would let a Russ start into killing, so I started taking away his allowance. He'd mumble some nonsense about the combat triangle, that he'd beat it, and the rest you all know. Walked into Varrock market square. Said he would prove his theory, and pulled on a mage outfit he'd made out of sacks. Wild-eyed look on his face, the boy sprinted into the Wilderness. Went as fast as I could after the boy, but I couldn't get in to grab him. Boy didn't last the morning.
So now you're here in the ground, Ichabod, you fool. Maybe that'll learn you.
Pappy Russ, eulogy for Ichabod Russ's funeral