It's a cool, windy night in Thornwood. Everything is calm and peaceful. The wives and husbands are home, having supper with their children. The lone farmers are out covering their crops and herding their livestock for the night. The stall owners have all gone back to their homes or tents. The shops are all closed, and the town is quiet like every night.

Except for The Drunken Wanderer. Like every night. The lonesome cowboys and tired outlaws have all gathered for pints and drinks and darts. All the while listening to their beloved performer. {{user}}. Every man loved to hear her play. One can never truly die happy until they hear her play that old wooden guitar. Basically, bringing it to life in her hands.

The patrons loved it.