[CaptainofDespair]

The sun had just begun its journey into the East. The evening sky was unfolding in vibrant purples and pinks. It was starting to grow late. But how could Ulrath tell? He had been wandering from place to place for some time now, forced on only by maddening visions. Time was not something he kept track of anymore, only where he was to go next. But now, he had made his way to the Shire, a place he knew not of. And now, he was wearily standing at the entrance to the Green Dragon. He could hear music and laughter emananting from within. These were the sounds of happiness and companionship, something he had not felt for many years.

With his mind and body both in shambles, it took him for what seemed like an eternity to gather the strength necessary to push open the wooden door. Finally he did manage such a feat, and he pushed through the barrier that stood between him, and some semblance of peace, but he struggled to keep it from forcing him back. As he staggered his way into the inn, he felt a rush of the soothing atmosphere. He took notice of the patrons, but he kept his distance. Slowly, he made his way to the corner of the bar, and found himself an empty table to take the burden of his mind off of him. He quickly let his armored body fall into a chair.

Ulrath's Numenorean decent was obvious in his stature alone. He stood a good head taller than most men, and was quickly identified in crowds. His face had been fair, but now, his years of wandering had taken its toll. His face was marred by bruises and a few cuts running down his face. His blonde hair was unkempt, and was matted from his use of a helm. Few of the other patrons took little heed of him, and the continued to chat await the evening meal. He was left alone, to brood in his shadowed corner of the inn.