Uthlyn: the center of art and learning in Connloath, but more importantly, not the center of Mordecai operations. A young man, seemingly in his early twenties, huddles over the bar of 'Gelda's Tavern', downing glass after glass of Matron's Root, one of the hardest liquors Gelda's carries. The bartender, a tall, burly woman reaching her forties, slides him a refill nonchalantly as the last of the draught slides from his current glass and down the young man's gullet. He stops the new drink with his other hand, setting the empty one gingerly on the far side of the bar. "I don't know what I'd do without you, Gelda." His voice is gentle, each syllable proper and well pronuncianted, not at all what one would expect after his third pint. "You know me better than anyone."
The woman, Gelda, keeps her muscular arms working on a glass with her signature golden barcloth, letting out an exasperated sigh as she eyes the empty pint the man set on her side of the counter. "I swear, kid, yer' gonna die at the rate you down them drinks. Gotta be the third time this week your keepin' me slave to that ridiculous tolerance of yours." She tosses the clean glass skillfully into the air, a flight at the pinnacle of which the handle is softly cupped by a wooden hook, suspending the glass alongside dozens of others like it. With a raised eyebrow, she whisks the young mans latest victim off the smooth wood, and starts the cycle over.
The young man watches the theatrics with a slight smirk, swallowing a gulp of brew. "I'll keel over the day you break a glass, Gelda."
Gelda shoots him a wry grin, and sticks the landing on yet another glass. "Careful, now, I've heard livin' forever ain't all it's cracked up to be."
Her quip coaxes a hearty laugh from the young man, who takes another swig. "Ah! Maybe I should wager on the day I win one of these verbal bouts, that should give me all the time I need."
Gelda laughs along with him, a bellow compared to his. She pats him on the shoulder, before taking off toward the kitchen. "Don't go rushin' to the grave yet, kid, yer' still one of my best customers."
The young man nods graciously as she leaves, after which he sighs, his eyes carrying a bit of sadness. If only I could get drunk and forget, maybe that wouldn't be such a tall order...