[Magus]

The night was moonless, dark and empty, as the shadowed figure walked through the door of the Green Griffin Inn. The lanterns’ soft light glimmered off his long silvery hair, dark shadows clinging to a fine, angular face. He moved to the counter without a word, his gait smooth and effortless, his footsteps barely discernible among the light whispers and soft chuckling of the late night patrons. Now and then the slurred mutterings of a comatose patron could be heard, trailing off as the sod slipped back into a fitful slumber.

“Damn drunks,” muttered the bartender, a wisened old man whose scars told of adventures long past. He really needed another bouncer, if only to throw out the damn bums who continued to use the bar as a free resting place.

“Wine.”

The bartender looked up, startled. An elf in worn gray traveling clothes stood before him, his face obscured by shadow. Hanging by his side was an ornate katana, the hilt shining silver atop a dull brown sheathe. “What kind?” the grizzled barkeep finally muttered.

“Wine.” The elf lifted his head, his expressionless gaze boring into the barkeep. His eyes were grey, lifeless voids. Dead and unfeeling, like a zombie, he thought. Beginning to feel uneasy, the barkeep reached for a bottle, the specialty of the house. Cheap wine in water, that is. Not that the swill around there could tell the difference. He poured a large glass and set it in front of the newcomer.

As the elf drank, the barkeep got a better look at his face, and raised an eyebrow in surprise. The “elf” was a half-elf, though even a keen eye might be hard-pressed to spot it from a distance. Some time passed before the barkeep realized the newcomer hadn’t paid. “You intend on paying for that?” the barkeep grumbled, half-angry at himself for the oversight.

“I asked for wine. This isn’t wine,” the half-elf murmured as he finished the last of it, not even bothering to look up.

The barkeep’s face flushed with fury. Without warning his arm shot out and grabbed the impudent fool by the collar, hoisting him up to face level. All eyes in the bar were suddenly on the two.

“Wrong answer,” the barkeep stated menacingly, glaring at the figure dangling before him.

The half-elf stared back, his gaze cold, emotionless. Empty.

The next moment the barkeep was on his back, stunned. The half-elf stood over him, indifferent, helping himself to a glass of expensive wine as he stared silently into the distance.