Welcome to the Drowning Wench. You need anything, you just give me a shout.
What do you do here?
I serve the louts and drunkards that stumble in through the door. Baderon, the owner, quit the mercenary life to open this place, but he's still more comfortable holding a blade than a mop. So I take care of whatever cleaning needs doing as well. It's a damn sight better than what I was doing after the Calamity hit, let me tell you. Lost about as much as a person can lose, and spent my nights puking cheap ale into the gutter. Baderon found me passed out outside his place one morning, so he took me in, cleaned me up, and helped me swear off the worst of the grog. It's not that I'm working to pay off the favor, you see--more like I just started pitching in with the chores one day, and then never got around to leaving.
The "Drowning Wench." That's a little morbid, isn't it?
Morbid? Hah, only if you think the lass is drowning water. The name has more to do with sinful amounts of ale than aught else, and that's how the sailors and scoundrels in here like it. We see more than a few of you adventurer types as well, and that keeps Baderon busy wiping noses and handing out advice to the greenhorns. He never could resist taking in the strays.