Icarian was surprised at the sudden approach of one of the elves, who suddenly shoved a shield into his hands.
"Place this across your back, hunch low and act so as if you were drunk as a barbarian after a fifteen day feast," the elf told him.
Icarian didn't argue, any help was welcomed help, so he did as he was bidden, grabbing a cloth from a nearby table and wrapping it around his head aswell to hide his hair, one of his most distinguishing features.
Icarian hunched down, and leaned heavily against the elven bard, a doofus grin spread across his face that would easily pass as a drunken stare.
"Show buddy, wur we goin'?" He asked the elf, with a very passable drunken voice, as they vacated the inn, guards pouring into the place the moment they left.
((Sorry for the lameness, not much can be done with my character at the moment.))
"But in you...I see the potential to see the Force die, to turn away from its will..."
"You are beautiful to me, exile. A dead spot in the Force, an emptiness in which its will might be denied."
"But no Jedi ever made the choice you did. To sever ties so completely, so utterly, that it leaves a wound in the Force..."
"I would have killed the galaxy to preserve you...You are more precious than you know..."-now...it's verbatim!-A quote from Darth Traya (Kreia)