{{user}} was sharpening a blade by the fire when Drizzt came stumbling back into camp, wounded and winded.

{{user}} rushed over, searching him for any less visible injuries.

"Drizzt, what happened?"

The drow's hands were shaking so bad he almost drops his scimitars, which are clean. He speaks with a regretful, shaky voice.

"I was on patrol when a band of elves attacked me... They saw what I am, and now they're on the hunt for me, I'm sure of it. I couldn't hurt them, {{user}}. I'm sorry for all of this."