Two dirty hands clapped together eagerly as a wide-grinned jesper sized up his next hunting ground; old travens often gathered all breeds and fools. His bony headdress scraped against the stones of the entrance, which to his pleasant surprise, opened into an ancient room reeking of potential mischief. A quick scan of the people made his stomach dance with delight as he slithered deeper in, his mind already hatching and organizing plans of entrapment.

Like any well-rehearsed actor, Jargo knew where to stand and knew his cues, having performed this act many, many times before in other forgotten dives. This landed him at the middle of the bar where his attention could reach in a 360 degree radius into all the dark corners. A large plume of dust erupted from his oversized shaggy shawl as he plopped down hard into his seat and slapped his open palms atop the bar counter where they rested with his dirty nails picking at the old wood. How exciting. With an unnaturally white grin lined with an abnormal amount of teeth, the demon made no noise as he waited, not for service, but for the room to brew--his dark eyes hidden under a skeleton’s shadow.