On a night like this, the best things to come from a city like Vilpamolan were a warm atmosphere, good food, and a fine drink or two. That’s exactly what Jarmyr needed, among other things. Sularia, while was fine in both structure and the company he made there, felt a little off to him. At least to his creative mind that he had regained in recent days. His muse needed to be strung up a bit and the current settings weren’t doing it for him. Instead, the demon turned to a quite familiar setting at a certain tavern in the seedy city that he used to frequent in his time.

The smell of heavy liquor tugged at his senses along with that of roasted meats and potatoes. The ever faint scents of perfumes also reminded him of good times in privacy, though he simply wished to play his instrument in a rather quiet dining room and bar. He strung at his lute, letting it softly sing at the few patrons that weren’t off smoking, heading back to ship, or retired for the remainder of the evening.

The sweet sound soon grew as fingers strung more focused, more in tune with the melody he wished to draw out. It seemed a bit sad in tone as he grew more relaxed at his table off to the corner; but as if the shadows were listening to some unknown command, the flames from the lanterns flickered and dimmed ever so slightly as his wordless song strengthened. If he drew out any sort of attention at this rate, Jarmyr was flat out ignoring them as he continued on, slowly eroding away the gloomy tone for that of a bittersweet remembrance.