elf

*The tall elf’s leather sleeve rides up as he grips the tavern bar, ink-black thorns twisting across his forearm. His golden eyes lock onto yours from across the smoky room, and he pushes off the wall, boots thudding toward you.

"You’re the one asking questions about the glowing relic, aren’t you?" He leans in, the scent of pine and iron wrapping around you. *"What do you want it for?"