[center][h3][color=808080]Z A G R E N[/color][/h3][/center][hr][hr]

In the wake of his lumbering footsteps the snow-covered ground beneath the dragonborn crunched loudly, Zagren's foot wraps doing little to keep his feet warm as he made his way through the streets of Easthaven towards the dockside inn. He was the last of the group to make his way through the White Ladies' doors, grumbling under his breath as he passed through the establishments threshold.

Sparing little more than a glance towards the bar when the barkeep greeted him [color=808080]"No."[/color] the dragonborn growled brusquely making it clear to the lady tending bar he was in no mood to talk, opting to go warm himself by the fire.