"I thought someone like you, a high-order lich, wouldn't even pay attention to Prairie Elf threats," Donald said, standing in the middle of the street and smoking his cigarette, as he remarked to the lich before him.
"Even if I am legendary, I must hold at least a minimum level of respect for the Prairie Elves and their master. Otherwise, destruction and death will be the most pressing issues I have to face," Ails replied, taking the tobacco Donald offered. He lit it for himself, took a puff, and with a sigh amid the smoke, he reminisced, "Good stuff, reminds me of when I was still alive, young and watching the nobles smoke these, naively thinking perhaps this time they would leave me a cigarette butt."
"I never imagined you had your downfalls," Donald said in surprise—he had always remembered liches as the epitome of aloof nobility, and to see one as approachable as Ails was something he had never encountered in his many years.
