The Bard stood on top of the remains of the Tavern. He kicked at the wreckage, hopeful to find just one more bottle to wet his parched throat. His fingertips were shredded from his furious work throughout the day. Satisfied, he made a smile that accentuated his already handsome features. Sure, those strangers may have done the heavy lifting, but it didn't take a genius to realize that he was the real reason the town survived to see another day. Well, survived enough. His inspiring songs kept the parties spirits up and cured their wounds without even so much as a thanks.
He could already feel the inspiration making his fingers twitch and his mind race to write the ballad of a lifetime. The Bard might even call it a finale.
Just here for the Lute is a tri(!!) thermal in shades of green, wine and blue.
