>>5331751"Yae've done enough, I think," interjects the dwarf. Getting a word in with these people is nigh impossible. "In three hundred bloody years, naer have I killed a dark elf that wasn't asking fer it. I've fought yae in the mountains and in the forests, up here and in the Underdark too. Not a single good soul between any of yae. Get ye gone, drow, and don't let the door hit yer arse on the way out."
"He's right, you know!" Cries a young woman clad in polished plate.
"Yeah! Find me one good drow!" Agrees another.
"I saw what they do to people down there! Cyric's blood, it ain't right!"
It is apparent that you could attain sainthood in the most beneficent surface-dweller cult and these folk would still detest you for merely being born. Rather than agonize over this, you elect to take your leave - there is nothing for you here. You pivot in place and make for the exit at a brisk pace. The very second that you turn away, you catch sight of an object rapidly approaching you in your peripheral vision and tilt your body aside. An empty bottle flies by your face and shatters against the tavern floor.
Coolly, you step over the shards and out into the city streets.
That got you nowhere. What now?
>That encounter left a bad taste in my mouth. I will meditate until the hunt.>In lieu of receiving practical advice, I wish to study the lore of Malar and his cult.>I have something else in mind. [Write-in.]Big ups to whoever first posted this image. 