Tirarian sat in the corner of the yard, overlooking the motley crew. The Leaping Stag was one of the inns in the city that both was refined enough to attract the upper classes and yet cheap enough for the poor (well, probably not the [i]poor[/i] poor). After a few drinks all of them would be toasting before forgetting it and going back to hating each other in the morning. But there was a fellow this place didn't attract often. Grey skin, slitted eyes and covered ears. She had seen him performing here and there, and she knew just what would satisfy her curiosity.

The Gnome lifted the brim of her hat up, and raised the flute to her lips. Tightening her lips into the appropriate embouchure, she thought to herself "Because if there's anything a bard loves to do, it's to tell other instrument players they can't play."

She started a steady song, hardly impressive. There was a distinct lack of other musicians out in the backyard and it wasn't hard to be heard at this distance from the bonfire.