OoC: This is my first story, and I'm just trying to meet people as of right now. (I just joined recently) So I wanted to start with something "epic", and maybe make a few buddies. My character's information is here: Character List Thanks. =D


BiC: Nafien walked quietly up to the bar's double doors. He had smelled this town's aroma, and the noise of its everyday hustle downwind about a mile from here, and decided to get his supplies restocked and maybe find a place to rest for the night. He had been traveling for six days on an errand for his clan's Guild, headed towards a city northwest of here. He needed the rest, though, and besides, what would it hurt?
He turned his head and heard music and loud, dunken voices coming from inside the tavern. The music had an old, antique feel to it, and the people sounded welcoming enough. But Nafien knew enough to know that their hospitality probably wouldn't apply to him. Nafien was a dark elf, and when people were confronted with his kind, they had a tendancy to react in fear and anger. Dark elves, or drow, were a largely feared race during ancient wars in ancient times. But many races, humans being the worst, were unnaccepting of the drow to this day.
Hurriedly, Nafien drew his hood low, to hide his facial features, and any trace of his telltale skintone. Although he himself could not see it, others could. As he opened the door, he decided to make use of his lack of sight and "play the cripple". He staggered in, waving his walking stick as though it were a cane. He did not need it, of course, but it helped build an illusion all the same. He heard the shifting of bodies on leather barstools, and the akward quiet that seemed to hang near him when people knew of his blindness.
He took his seat on a barstool near him, and waited for the bartender to address him.
"You gonna order, or just take up a stool?" the large man asked Nafien, with a hint of venom in his voice. "We don't take kindly to hooded folk who come in here to do nothing at all."
Nafien waited a beat, and replied. "I'm sorry, but I couldn't exactly read the 'choice drink' menu, now could I?"
At hearing this, the bartender's face flushed a deep red. "I apologize, sir. I thought you might've had a favorite beverage." he said, hoping he didn't lose a potential customer. "How does a draft sound?"
"That sounds good." Nafien said briskly. He didn't need any problems here. The two scimitars on his belt didn't need to spill any blood right now, especially here, especially because of him. He put his chin in his hand, and waited for the bartender to get his beer.