"All my life I've lived in these overcrowded cities, not by my own choice of course, simply force of habit. I grew up in the grand city of the Crossing, found as an orphan along the Leth Deriel trade routes with nothing more than a blanket and a silver band with the word Di'thon carved into it, hung about my neck. My father, an enterprising Dwarven trader, took me in as his own son. Until the age of six or seven, a mere second in Elven years, I had not the slightest inkling that i was not Dwarven like my foster father and his several real children. That is, until i realized that i would soon dwarf them in size, no pun intended, but I grew up happy enough.

"While my father journeyed the trade routes, I had little to do but roam the streets of the Crossing with his eldest son, Natu, who, until arrested for pilfering wine from the clergy, was my soul companion. After Natu's disappearance, the remainder of my foster father's children each went their separate ways, leaving me alone most of the time. I took to taking walks in the more forested areas in and surrounding crossing. One day while examining the stone arch at the entrance to Asemath Academy, I discovered my first great love, the art of lifesculpting. Granted, it's a lost art, and is still lost to this day, but despite that I studied its history vigorously, spending hours in the library, even feebly attempting the practice itself. Rapidly realizing this was going nowhere fast and tiring of my life of solitude, I decided to become a mage. I studied and trained and became the... somewhat powerful mage that I am today.

"Eventually I grew weary of the rigorous training routines I had taken up, so I gathered my possessions and headed to Riverhaven, making my home within these quaint walls you see around you, and devoting the majority of my time to the pursuit of knowledge and writing. A task that I wouldn't trade for all the kronars in the Crossing... well maybe Leth."

After finishing the tale, Enturis scoops up the small rabbit, which was nibbling on his black robes, and sets it in his lap. After a few moments of petting the rabbit, he seems to drift off into thought. Not wishing to disturb the Elf's reverie, you quietly slip out the door, bidding him a silent thanks and promising yourself to return once the absentminded Elf actually finishes his book.