You turn your attention back toward the barkeep.
"I'm a wandering telekinetic," you say, brushing your hair away from your shoulders.
His eyes widen.
"Don't get many o' yer kind 'round 'ere," he says, raising a mug to his lips. "If yer really a kinetic, do somethin' crazy."
You draw your sword from your belt, levitating it in the air. It swings end over end, soaring throughout the bar before lodging itself into the poor man's pine walling. Not expecting such a flamboyant display, the barkeep drops his mug in surprise. As it plummets, you focus your mind and stop it inches away from the ground. You lift it back up and place it onto the counter.
"My god, yer the real thing! What brings ya here?"
"The decapathon," you reply curtly.
"Wh-what? Ne'er heard o' it."
With more than a twinge of sarcasm in your voice, you tell him how much of a surprise it is that he's not aware of what is simply the largest and most spectacular sport played in this fine country. You tell him that his ignorance is rather pathetic, really, and that as a bartender he's supposed to pay more attention to these sorts of things.
"Well, lass, yer a feisty one. Still 'aven't told me yer name, though."
"Raleigh Crane. I'm also blind."
"Oi, yer pullin' me leg! How'd you catch that mug if ye can't see!?"
You sigh. This conversation isn't really going anywhere.
Status: Sopping wet, still. And blind.
Abilities: Telekinetic. Can lift small objects and also swords.
Inventory: Two swords hang from your belt. Your third is still lodged in the poor barkeep's wall.