Slinking into Town

Apathy. Was that really a feeling one wanted to live with for the rest of their lives? Nay, the many forms of joy and anger and sadness and fervor - these were meant for all.

Grey. Was that the color that loomed over one's day? No, because the blues and greens and varieties of the seasons were meant for the optics of all.

War. Was that meant for anyone? Unfortunately, war has always been a reality throughout the ages, and recent years were no different.

As Tei'ron strode into Warfall, he felt all of these things. It was rather atypical of Elves to be so melancholy. Reserved and sometimes pompous? Yes, but not without the joy of life and sweet connection to nature. The Elf knew of Warfall from his brothers in war, a small village somewhat caught between two different fronts of the war. And Tei'ron's kin were also residing in the forest north of the village. Well, until recently. Last he heard they had vacated the valley, even though the war was over.

With the losses he suffered during battle and the lack of family nearby, this was the next best place. Tei'ron came to the village to rest and regroup. But also he came to hopefully refresh his soul. A human village may not have been the best option for that. But he knew a few folks for sure.

The Elf, in his traditional travel gear of golden light armor, brown cloak, and weapons, went to the Hidden Goat, a place he had heard of from others from the area. Opening the doors gave two immediate impressions: it was dank and lacked fresh air; and voices hushed as the non-human entered. He was not all that tall, but his proper stance and "warrior" dress - and the ears and hair - made him stick out.

Tei'ron went for the bar and gave a nod to the keep. This sort of place was not foreign to him, and he doubted they had wine, but he tried anyway. "Vendui," he greeted in Elvish. "Would you happen to have wine on hand?"

Bourbon the Bartender gave a bit of a squint and then grabbed something from under the bar. It was dusty and half-full. The man blue on the bottle, sending dust in the air right near Tei'ron. "Well, there's this. Can't say I remember when this was last poured."

Tei'ron gave a bit of a sly grin. "It'll do just fine, friend." The Elf waited for the glass, quietly slipping a hand into his pouch for coin, taking another look around at those in the tavern. He thought he recognized one of the men, but he was face-down in a table so it was hard to say.

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