<div style="text-align: justify;"><div class="floatleft">(https://ichef.bbci.co.uk/images/ic/1200x675/p01b0gxp.jpg)</div><br/><strong>Name:</strong> Dagrahir (https://elliquiy.com/forums/index.php?topic=340173.msg16125920#msg16125920) <br/><strong>Wearing:</strong> Fine Gondorian clothing over the mail of his armour and a cloak with a silver clasp. (https://i.pinimg.com/564x/23/55/0a/23550a68edf4f38dd2eae468234cbf85.jpg)<br/><strong>Time:</strong> TA 3014, Winter<br/><strong>Condition:</strong> Tired and missing civilisation<br/><strong>Location:</strong> The Pracing Pony of Bree-town<br/><strong>Tagging:</strong> People within the Pony<br/><hr/><br/>While to many Bree might have been the very heart and soul of civilisation in Eriador, to Dagrahir it was little more than a village surrounded by a hedge of all things for a wall. All his way here he had heard talk of it being the place to trade, rest and talk and feel merriment or perhaps get an opportunity for greatness. Edoras was infinitely more impressive than this paltry gathering of men and halflings, said halflings being by far the most interesting thing about the place. Oh, no doubt there was <em>something</em> worthwhile here to explore or to read, as far as Dagrahir could tell at that moment the only thing that mattered was that some perfidious Black Numenorean was gathering southrons and easterlings for some nefarious purpose. Said purpose explained why a man of the Citadel was so far from the beloved White City he called home.<br/><br/>The Prancing Pony at least was a welcome sight. A well managed public house, Dagrahir had not seen the like in weeks, not since he left Anorian in fact for the men of the Riddermark preferred their meadhalls and the less said of the men of Dunland and Minhirieth the better. Leaving his horse with the halfling stablehand, Dagrahir entered, ignoring any all who looked his way while he looked for the innkeep, or whoever else might serve him. he stood out, even among some other choice company, for he still wore the finery of Gondor and was tall in the fashion of his people.<br/><br/><strong>"Might someone point out the famous Butterbur?"</strong> He asked after a while of getting no luck, though he would be willing to put more than a few coins of silver on the large man busying himself with others being his quarry.</div>