A Heros Welome (Dalaran)

[coreypotter585]

Brom sat idly his great sword leaning on the wall directly behind him, the warrior sat his hands folded around his drink looking down into its frothy contents. His thoughts fell to the past, which in turn made him smile to himself with subtle grins. The experienced warrior leaned back into his chair at the empty table he sat at in the dimly candle lit room that was the bar. Dalaran was quiet, too quiet. The undead attacks were losing their bite, and the world seemed so much more still sense the events of the last few tendays. Brom pulled a small leather pouch from the inside of his cloak and pulled his hood further over his face keeping his identity hidden to most onlookers. He produced a long-stemmed wooden pipe and dipped the head of it into the leather pouch crushing the Herbs into the bowel of the rosy-wooded pipe. Leaning over he grabbed a burning twig from the fire near him, pressing the mouthpiece of the device into his mouth he lit it with the embering wood. Taking great puffs smoke billowing around him. leaning back and taking in the strange afternoon so far, his weapon laying awkwardly next to him.