Timba hated trying to perform in busy cities, where everyone who tried hard to make him either slip up or give him a different story to sing. His fingers ached, he was dead tired, and the night had just begun where he'd have to sing songs of love, loss, and everything in between. He had written his own song, of those particular topics, but now he needed to find the right place to begin this new tale of sorrow and want. He knew a pup or inn would be the right place but he needed to find the right one.

"God this place is big," he said out loud to himself. He almost laughed to himself when he spoke out loud. Well, he couldn't exactly find out where to go by himself, but how odd would it be to stop and ask questions. He wasn't sure how exactly to ask someone for directions, he spoke Adûnaic, Sindarin, and Entish. He laughed at himself, remembering why he learned Entish. He wanted to turn his favorite saying into a full song. Okay, so technically he only knew one sentence in Entish, and that was, "Where's the nearest pub?" He doubted he'd ever meet an Ent, in a town and have to ask where the nearest pub was... but that was okay. That song was supposed to make people laugh anyway. Unlike the new song, which desperately needed a title.

He chose a pub finally, "Wilwarin Inn and Pub." The name of the Inn rolled off the tounge. Timba almost decided to name it after the first tavern it would be sung in... he walked inside, and picked a booth. He wanted a drink, but first things first, he pulled out his harp. "Is it alright if I play here?" no body seemed to hear or notice, so Timba chose to interpret that as, "Yes, oh mighty Bard, play us a song we've never heard!" Okay, so Timba was being a little pathetic, but it was either that or fall into dispair. He smiled, and let the first few strings of his song, and let the music fill the pub. Timba opened his mouth and began the song, his voice always gave him a nice chill down his voice.

The song was in a mixture of Sindarin and Adûnaic, and the two seemed to blend together. It was one of his masterpeices, and he hoped that his audience took to it like he did.

It was a fairly calm evening in Lomedor, as the night sky graced the city with its ethereal gaze and its twilight shine. Stars peaked the sky like mottled dots on a blank piece of paper. Of course, that would not stop any hint of shadow to appear, just to disrupt the peace. Then again, Zega was not that type of person in the first place. His arbitrary demonic wings were now enclosed within his tough jacket, although his dragon tail was still visible to the public. Most people confused him for a half-dragon, but they were missing one minor detail. He was essentially...a quarter dragon, and a quarter demon. Obviously, the other half was human, as that was what Zega considered himself to be. Confusions of evil and darkness were common around Zega, but in reality, he was just an extreme hybrid making a living off of what he's got left.

Zega stood outside a rather familiar building, the Wilwarin Inn and Pub. It was a Pub he visited many times, as the music was usually spectacular, and the rooms were extremely comfortable. However, Zega already owned a house in Lomedor and all he needed now was a good few minutes of some musical relaxation. Zega reminisced on how he had actually gotten to this area in the first place...a rather strange event indeed.

It all began with a rather large guard in Lomedor square. At that point in time, it was a bright and sunny afternoon, and Zega had been making his frequent run-throughs in the market, and was searching for some new antiquities that he could add in order to furnish his newly bought home. His demonic wings and his dragonic tail peaked the attention of said guard, Bartolemew. Bartolemew had been quizically analyzing Zega for the past few hours of his waking life, and was hardly satisfied with the fact that Zega was so arbitrarily adorned with his added features. Being the curious guard that he was, Bartolemew paced his hideous hide closer and closer to Zega, until eventually he was in arm's reach of him.

"Tell me your name and your purpose here in Lomedor" was what Bartolemew asked. It took Zega a while to process what was going on there. It wasn't particularly normal for him to be contacted by people regularly, as most were afraid of him. However, the man had a weapon, and Zega was obliged to answer.

"My name is Zega Daschiem, and I'm buying furniture for my recently purchased house." replied Zega monotonously. He wasn't particularly interested in the guard, as he was in the middle of paying a check. Reaching out one of his hands to grab his proof of purchase Zega stumbled along and took his leave...only to be chased by the baffled guard.

Well anyways, it wasn't particularly a splendid day for Zega, who had just lost the guard. The hybrid reluctantly entered the Wilwarin Pub and emersed himself in the music that danced upon his ears. The performer's song had been sung in two different languages, confusing Zega slighlty, but it still made sense in an odd way. It was marvelous, how this man could allow his words to flow in perfect harmony. It was certainly something to be applauded. However, Zega let the man finish his song, and sat himself down at the bar.