[center][h3][color=808080][ A L W E N ][/color][/h3][/center]

In the corner of the tavern, behind all the commotion and raucous activity sat a thin and almost demure man in dark woolen robes with a main of dark raven locks that fell over his colorless eyes as they scanned the tome held tightly in his hands.

An imp floated a few feet from him idly, a glassy look upon its ugly face as it awaited his command. Alwen had nearly forgotten he had yet to order something to drink, he had been so lost in his studies he'd forgotten to get something to wet his thirst.

"[color=808080]A sherry if you will.[/color]" he said waving the imp away, eyes still glued to the pages of the grimoire. Studies of negative energy and the effect it had on the living fascinated a necromancer such as himself oh so very much.