A slight hooded figure, no more than five foot tall, pushed open the doors to the tavern.  “Why is it that every time we meet up, it’s always in a Pub?”

“Because Rik, a man gotta eat, don’t he?”  Tank’s accent was guttural but hard to discern with all the food in his mouth.

“Oh Tank, you eat enough for the four of us.”  Lin’s Elfish lilt was different but as sweet as Rik’s.

Dudley chimed in.  “I rather think Lin’s reason lies more in the imbibing of spirits.”

Lin leered at Dudley.  “A woman needs refreshment.”

“I suppose.”  Dudley back away slightly.  “Personally, I can’t understand the attraction of a pastime that causes one to lose control of their senses.”

Rik flashed an easy grin. “Well, it does help drown out the pompous words of the holier than thou, eh?”

Lin lifted her glass and shouted “Hear, hear!”

 Rik laughed and pulled down the hood of his cloak.  Silver hair cascaded over his sharp obsidian features.

“Hey!”

The young woman in the corner of the room stopped singing and every eye in the room turned toward the man behind the bar.

“We don’t accept your kind in our establishment!”

Annoyance flamed in Lin’s eyes as she twirled her dagger dangerously.  "What kind? Elves?"

The barkeep hesitated.  "N...Not all of you, just the dark ones."

"Take it easy, barkeep, " Dudley waved his hands.  "I'm sorry what's your  name?"

"Bob... Bob EverGrim."

"Well you see Bob.  Rik here is a follower of Eilistraee. He's one of the good ones so if you'll kindly apologize and get my friend a drink..."

Bob glanced at something then seemed to get his courage back.  “Say what you want, Paladin, the only good Drow is a dead one.”

Dudley sighed.  “I can personally vouch for this one, sir.”  An almost indiscernible grin creased Dudley’s expression.  “I check him for evil daily.”

“Well then the lot of you can leave. Scram all of you before I call the sergeant of the guard in here to teach you a lesson.”

"Why you think we need lesson?"  Tank stood up to his full massive height.  "You think we stupid?"

"I should have known there was something off about you.  You’re one of those filthy disgusting half-breeds, worse than a pure-bred Orc if you ask me!"

“Now sir, The Shining One does not tolerate racist hatred.”  Dudley rested his hand on his war hammer.

“It’s alright Dudley, I’m used to this treatment. Let’s go.  They probably have rotten food anyway.”

Tank raised a hairy eyebrow.  "Food not rotten.  Food tasty!"

The rest of the party laughed and they all made ready to leave.  But four burly men with clubs stood in front of the exit.

“You’re not going anywhere.”




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