Daethaur looked down the bar. The orc hadn't responded, and for good reason- another Orc had walked in. Tribe of Kham-Lucar, eh? He had no idea that any of those old scoundrels were still around.
He then became painfully aware that many of the Elves were staring at the bar, even more than before. Don't make any sudden movements, he thought, you don't want to provoke them. Daethaur's mind wandered to the last elf he had met- a great lord, with a blade that glowed like the Sun. He had barely escaped that battle alive. He tried to put it out of his mind.
"Barkeep", he said, putting some coins on the bar, "give me the hottest drink you have."
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