“What do you mean, turn back now! Do you know what I am?”

“Yes I know what species you are, and it isn’t changing anything.”

“Judging by your eyes and forehead, you are probably a Surface Drow. Not like it makes any difference. You are still lower than me!”

“If the mere sight of me is just that detestable to you, you won't want to meet the master of this place. Not to mention that he has more reason to hate your species than anyone that I know of. And I know of a lot of people.”

“What's that supposed to mean?”

“This (I flipped her off with both fingers! I’ve waited so long for this moment)! Stuck up bitch.”

“Who are you? You don't even look remotely like an elf, how could you be the ”

“ … Shadow, please return to the armory and take Bookworm with you. Neither of you want to be present for the next few minutes.”

“Understood. Best of luck to you and your … guest. (chuckle)”

“WHAT DO YOU MEAN BY ‘Best of luck to you and your … guest’?”

“I don’t wanna hear it. Judging from your poise, vocabulary, and tones, I’d say you were a noble of Elvengarde, the city of the Elves. From one of the five administrative council families. Am I correct, you spoiled, stuck-up, arrogant High Elf?”

“How do you, an outsider, know about the structure of Elvengarde so well? And why do you insult this perfect race as such trash?”

“For the insults, I can go on and on, and still only scratch the surface. I have quite the history with your race, and it ain’t pretty. I will ignore the first question, for personal reasons. Considering that you are of the highest rank of the High Elves, I suppose that I must introduce myself using the ancient (and retarded) format (which I hate with a passion).

I am of the dark element, yet of the light. I am a Drowen. My skin is gray; nearly as dark as coal, symbolizing the nature of my species’ immediate ancestry. The whites of my eyes are white; whiter than the freshly fallen snow - to make my enemies think that I am innocent while in combat. And my pupils are black; blacker than the void, - able to peer into your soul. I am Drin of no family worth mentioning, the Drowen; at your (don’t vomit, don’t vomit, don’t vomit!) service.

Are you happy now, or do I have to use the knights introduction, which is even longer, as it lists all of my deeds as a knight? And why are you such a cliche?”

“Please don’t. Thank you for using the formal introduction. As much as I am interested with your exploits as a knight, that can wait for another day.”

“Aren’t you forgetting something I said?”

“What did I miss?”

“Why are you such a cliche?”

“What do you mean, a cliche?”

“Well, you are an elf, with easily recognizable elf features. You are blonde and have blue eyes. And finally, you are the bustiest girl I have ever met! How is that not a cliche? (I finally get to make fun of a cliche! This may just be the best day of my life!)”

“Pervert! I’ll bring my father into this! He’ll never forgive you after he hears what you said to me!”

Thank god, she stormed off. I may have to invoke the terms of the ancient deal with Elvengarde, but at least I can remain in hiding a little longer. Let's hope that they haven’t voided the contract, or I will have to masacre innocent footmen, Elves, no less. Now, to get those transparency stones.