Threland

Eofeole had a long sleep in his little camp outside of Bree that night. He awoke when the sun was already warm in the sky and little drops of rain began to start falling down on his face. He raised his hood and smiled at the weather before fixing his spears and his shield to his back. He walked into Bree from the West Gate at a great pace, by now the rain was falling down harder and he was getting soaked among with all the other townsfolk who were out in the rain. He walked to the Prancing Pony  where he had a quick word with the friendly Barkeep, Barliman Butterbur.

Threland smirks with a painful exhale, lying down on the prancing Pony’s floor as he clutches onto his manhood in one , however rummaging around in his sidebags with a free hand, pulling a gourd and shoving it over, setting it in orbit for Nirieleth's hair. The woman, clad in heavy armor previously retaliated for a bucket of cold water thrown at her. The sense of justice was strong to the man, for she had in the past dishonoured his favorite pastime; drinking.