Light footsteps can be heard as a tall, cloaked figure pushes thru the bars swinging doors. His attire is of remarkable make and even his shoes seem to be made by a master cobbler. The figure walks smoothly, almost uncannily across the room and takes a seat by himself in the rear of the bar where there graces no light. The figure then pulls off the large, black hood of his well-adorned cloak to expose his pale, fair face. His features are angular and sharp like an elves but he lacks the proper ears to be one. The man waves over the bar golem and without but a word the golem fetches him an empty glass. The mans muscular hands then reach into his cloak, removing a large flask which he pours delicately into the glass, the glass immediately turns scarlet red. The man known only by his appearance then takes a sip of the fluid, and then almost instantaneously he begins to cough uncontrollably. His eyes bulge from his face and he looks to be becoming even paler than before, but with a look of determination he quickly gulps down the rest of the liquid and sets the glass down. The man next pulls from his cloak a tome of immeasurable age and begins to read aloud very softly, almost rhythmically.
