A human youth strides through the door. The elf watches as the youth clad in dark robes approaches. He smells terrible, reeking of pipeweed. A lit cigarette dangles from his lips as he sits opposite the elf. He reaches up to draw the cigarette away from his lips, and chokes out:
"You the one with the free ales?"
The elf gazes evenly at him for a long while before raising a hand to order an ale for the man.
"Let's hear your tale."
The elf readies his quill as the ale is brought. The man takes a swig in between puffs on the rolled pipeweed and begins.
"I was new to the city, just as you are. I heard the screams from the 'Well.' I heard them loud and clear - everyone does." The man sneers into his ale.
"I watched it all the time. All day. All night, I sat and stared. I nearly touched it. Nearly.. fell in." The wrinkled youth's face is grim in the dark lit tavern. He takes a long drag on the cigarette.
"It took my mind from me." His hands are unconsciously balled into tight fists. "And nearly my life. It compelled me to attack a powerful warrior and cleric with my bare hands. Of course, all I can recall is awaking bleeding and battered." The youth grimaces and calls for another ale as he tries to roll another cigarette, but his hands are shaking.
"And from then…" The deep lines in the humans forehead are worried and visible to the elf's keen eyes. "It has all been… down." The youth's eyes are fixed on the table where he has dropped the pipeweed. He rises as the ale is brought, purple trim on black robes glinting in candlelight as he turns to leave the tavern.
