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It had been a long time since he has been near any towns or cities.  After looking around for anyone that might attack him, he slowly entered the inn and took a seat by the fire....

[[Next person to post has the priviledge of naming him *grins*]]

well it is too much LOTR (or Eragon) in my opinion but its ok =) I'll continue

Asha'al looked at the dwarf with suspicion. Although the Dwarf had looked friendly enough, it was a time when trusting anyone meant getting killed. "Well, It wasnt entirely a lie" he thought to himself. Avagon was what he called himself amongst humans, and in the last year he had used the name so often that it seemed like his own. He carefully raised his hands to his hood and made sure that his long ears were covered. All aspects of his true race had been hidden except for his long ears.
He had died (forgot how to spell that word, sry) his hair white, enchanted his eyes and face to give him the look of a night elf, and he always wore a long cloak. "That accursed undead mage! Why couldnt he fix my ears properly!" Any dwarf or human would be deceived by his appearance, but to a true Night elf, his ears would give him away before he could say "stealth". He looked around the pub for a third time, and loosened his inner tension upon discovering that there were still no Night elves in the room. The wetlands was not Elf habitat, but these days one could see an elf anywhere, even in this gloomy harbor.

"I hope that no one see's me for what I am" he said to himself. Being a spy for Silvermoon was no easy task, and he had spent the last year paying for his mistake in Stormwind. One word uttered in the ancient elven tongue, the traditional greeting amongst blood elves (ashara), and an order for his execution had been ordered. If only there had not been a Night elf at the royal reception.

Asha'al had been seconds from sticking his poisoned blade into the kings back. "Good that they lost me in the wilderness" - he thought to himself, trying in vain to shrug off that neverending feeling of being watched. "Hehe, being a rogue has its benefits"
    - So matie, how are 'yer doing? Where you from anyway? - Said the dwarf. Evidently the three mugs of Dwarven stout that he had just consumed in front of Asha'als eyes had made him overly friendly. Still, there was a twinkle of intelligence in his eyes that made the young Blood elf suspicious. Asha'al fingered his knife absent-mindedly beneath his cloak as he thought of what to say.
   - Well I be faring from the south. I am a trapper from Loch modan, earn meself a living off selling bear hides.
   - And where you be going from the harbor then? Surely yer not stayin' here in Menethil. A big load of crap this place here is, if yer askin' me.
   - Goin' north, hoping to find better fortune.
 
   - Well good luck with that matie, I godda go empty the tank, if yer know what Im meaning. HAHA! - And with a unsteady gait the Dwarf moved towards the exit, ran into the wall next to the door, fell, and urinated on the floor. However, nobody payed any attention; the smell was so bad already that urine could do nothing to the noses of the regular visitors of the pub.

    Asha'al waited for a minute while the Dwarf exited the pub, and then followed him. It was foggy, and Asha'al was wearing a cloak that melted the Blood elf into the shadows. As the Dwarf strayed further and further away from the pub, his step was more and more light, until the Dwarf did not look drunk at all. "knew that 3 ales was not enough to make a Dwarf drunk" said Asha'al to himself.

Suddenly the Dwarf turned around. His cloak flew off, and and a gigantic mace of solid red crystal emerged out of nowhere. However, the Dwarf was too slow. Even as the Paladin thrust his mace into the air, preparing to attack, he crumpled to the ground, a shuriken half submerged inside his chest. He looked at Asha'al with eyes red from hate, and whispered hoarsely "Death to the Horde!". The effort from those final words proved fatal. He died.

  "I knew it was time to leave this god forsaken place" - said Asha'al as he mounted his tiger. "this animal is swift, but nothing like a hawkstrider" thought Ashama'al to himself. Then he faded into the mist.
He was never seen in Menethil again...