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Tancred nods as he pulls himself into a seat.
"Ah... I see. You... you should really get all that printed on a shirt, you know. I had one made by this Fael fellow down at Imnesvale."
The paladin searches through his pack, eventually unearthing a somewhat grubby shirt. The words 'I survived the Umar Hills dungeon and all I got was this lousy T-shirt' are still readable through the grime.
Eventually, the Potion with Ice arrives, and Tacred has a grateful swig. He perks up almost immediately.
"AH! That's more like it! Can't get a decent drink from here to Tethyr, you know. Place is a credit to..."
He tails off, a puzzled look on his face as he surveys the bar. He takes one deep sniff.
"I... (sniffs again) I can smell... Drow."
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