The rustic interior of the inn reverberated through the whole town, but it was the inhabitants that really nailed the coffin. Even though cowboy hats were a relic of the west on Earth, only worn by hill billies trying to be pre-modernists, there had to be at least 4 in this room alone. The door almost opened exactly like one of the old scenes in a western movie. It swung on a set of rusty, and rather loud, hinges. It let everyone know they were there, but unlike the movies, no one seemed to bother looking to see who it was. In fact, Faelan was pretty sure there was a demon passed out in a pile of it's own vomit in the corner. It looked like a bad mix of a bar and an inn, with a set of stairs leading away from the counter. The few tables in there were worn out wooden softened tables, undoubtedly older than he was.<br/><br/>A quiet piano played in the back, much to his surprise. The music wasn't the best, but it was definitely a pleasant change from the regular bar sounds. The demon playing had more arms than any normal human would have too, which he thought would make for a better pianist, but it only seemed to impede the demon. Ignoring the music, he realized this place would be lucky to have a bed, let alone two. And from the size, there might not even be two rooms.