The bard clutched her lute to her chest. "I live here. There's so much music I still have to play...I've been waiting for an audience for so long..." To her luck it was the kind young man who walked her home after bringing her to the inn basement for an unusual performance.

"Ramza," the Barkeep walked up next to him and put his hand on his shoulder. "She died in the prime of her life. Why wouldn't she still be here?" He turned to the ghost. "You didn't have no one else to play for?"

She shook her head. "I've been so alone...It's quiet here."