((Everything within this adventure is actual conversation and emotes from a small bit of RP within The Pony, therefore if you were not present or in earshot I would recommend you not use any of this in any sort of Meta-gaming way... Enjoy.))
Dolguzagarr enters the Inn quietly, shutting the door so as to no attract attention, then immediately heads to the back of the Inn, his crimson cloak's slight movements would be the only indication that anything moved near the door.
Dolguzagarr closes and locks his door then removes his mask letting his raven hair loose from it's confines.
Dolguzagarr pulls a pipe out of a large pouch on his side and begins to pack it with a herb with an almost revolting smell, then lights it and begins to smoke quietly staring deeply into the fireplace... thinking.
Dolguzagarr extinguishes his pipe and stows it along with his herbs, then moves to his door, unlocking it and walking into the hall headed to the main room once again.
Dolguzagarr reemerges from the back without his mask on, and approaches the bar, his movements making little to no sound, as if practiced over years...
Dolguzagarr taps the counter twice and waits turning his back to the large man behind the counter, Barliman would then go about his work without a word or question of the dark skinned man's order.
Dolguzagarr stands silently a blank expression splayed across his face, and yet something would seem overly strange about him... perhaps it was his disinterest in the activities of the other patrons, or how his eyes would constantly move from patron to patron as if watching their every movement.
Glirandir smirks ever so slightly before he makes his way to the counter, his face going blank as he bows his head to the dark skinned man. "Good afternoon." He places a coin on the counter, "An ale." He asks.
Dolguzagarr turns back to the counter just as the large man returns bearing a cup of steaming brownish liquid and places a few strange looking coins on the counter, then turns to the man nearest him and nods.
Glirandir says, 'Ronald the name is, and you?'
Dolguzagarr speaks quietly in a distinct southern accent, "Dol..."
Glirandir says, 'You will have to speak up, friend. I can't hear you over the patrons and harp.'
Dolguzagarr looks at the man, his eyes piercing into the man's own... "Dol."
Glirandir stands with an air of confidence in him, returning the mans stare with his own one with a small smile, raising the tankard to his lips before lowering it after a sip. "Dol.. not a very common name. From the South?"
Dolguzagarr nods slightly, and sips from his strange drink.
Glirandir says, 'What brings you here, "Dol"?
Dolguzagarr says simply, "Looking for someone."
Glirandir says, 'That so? Well, I am a man of these lands. Know plenty! Perhaps I could help.'
Dolguzagarr shakes his head slightly, speaking now in a perfect representation of westron, "Of that I have my doubts... he is not known by the same names here..."
Glirandir says, 'Well.. what does he look like? If he does not have a name like those here.. then he must look different.'
Dolguzagarr thinks for some time before he speaks again, "He would look like myself... long dark hair, with a predisposition for wine and idle gossip, often seen wearing red or similar colors..." pauses and adds, "That is all I know as of yet."
Dolguzagarr sips his drink again.
Glirandir says, 'Ah. A Southron. I do not like to admit it, but there are more and more coming here.'
Dolguzagarr nods slightly.
Glirandir speaks low, perhaps forgetting he is speaking to a southron. "Personally, I wish they would all leave. Would make the town back to what it used to be."
Dolguzagarr chuckles for the first time, it would seem strained as if he was not used to the idea or action of laughing, "You amuse me..."
Glirandir says, 'I do?'
Glirandir smirks slightly as he raises a brow to the man.
Dolguzagarr nods, a strained smile on his face, the contrast of his white teeth against his dark skin would be more than noticeable. "You do indeed..."
Glirandir says, 'Then tell me, Dol. Why is that?'
Dolguzagarr his face would darken and his smile would fade, "Because you honestly believe your dirt-pile of a town was worth restoring..."
Glirandir says, 'Restoring? How do you mean?'
Dolguzagarr shakes his head, "I have more important things to do than stand here and speak with you... but what I meant was this town will fall to pieces do not doubt, I have seen it happen before, Bree's end approaches soon." he then places his cup on the counter and leaves the Inn without another word.
Dolguzagarr replaces his tusked mask and wanders the streets, seeking his mark... making not a sound, his eyes searching every shadow...
