With a sigh, the man rolled up the scroll and tossed it into the fire before him. Resting in his room, the elf knew that he had a long day ahead of him.
First, there was getting into the guild. Second, he had to befriend the leader. All of these tasks would take months, but he had to start today.
He ran his hand through his spiky black and red hair, grumbling to himself.
These sort of things were life-consumers. The took years sometimes.
Shadow narrowed his brown eyes and glared at the fireplace. At least he had time. Elves didn't suffer from aging effects, and were known to live for thousands of years. Shadow himself was over eighty years old, though he still looked to be in his twenties.
The perfect age for befriending the new guild leader.
Getting out of his comfortable chair, the elf stood to his 7 foot height. Much taller than the average human (or elf, for that matter), he was unaccustomed to the atmosphere that didn't fit him properly. This inn wasn't the most comfortable area, and most certainly wasn't cut out for people taller than the shortest of humans. Leaving his room consisted of ducking awkwardly beneath the doorframe.
Shadow gathered his things: a set of extra clothes, his canteen and bits of food, as well as his weapons. Twin daggers were sheathed at his belt, his red dyed leather armor strapped about his chest and arms. Gauntlets were straightened, and boots were adjusted.
When he finally did lower himself to get out into the inn's common room, Shadow looked like a traveling warrior. How accurate the description was . . . but he was far worse than a mere fighter. Deception was far more dangerous than an outright attack.
Stepping up to the innkeeper, the deciever passed over a small sack of coins. "Enough for the night," he said in a low voice, nodding. Without waiting for the fat man to count the coins, Shadow slipped into the streets with his bag hefted over one shoulder. He directed his silent steps toward the hideout - he had been alerted to its presence earlier that week. Even now he could trace the streets in his mind.
Stepping up to the seemingly abandoned building, Shadow's brown eyes followed the worn stone and rotten doorframe. His tall form allowed him to come nearly eye-level with the top of the door, but he was used to such things.
His knock echoed about the inside of the darkened building, and the assassin stood his ground waiting for entry to the guild; into the home of his enemy.

((Here's a picture of what I based him off of . . . please ignore the fact that this is a character based off of Sonic the Hedgehog. :XD And I imagine him looking a tad bit older, if you know what I mean. LOL))