Oh, I',m bad, I'm kingdom wide.
Yes I'm bad, I'm kingdom wide.
Three bards (two large bearded dwarves and one rather short mustached human) were singing in the center stage of the tavern when you walk in. The room immediately goes quiet.
You've been training under Master Khobo for the last three years at the Heroes' Academy. Although there are a number of fighting masters at the Academy, Master Khobo trains only those whom he thinks will become the best. And for some reason, when that scrawny little girl who was you showed up at the Academy, cow manure still between her bare feet, Master Khobo thought you were worth training.
The tavern has grown quiet because of your first visit to the tavern two years ago. You had been training under Master Khobo for fourteen months, and had blossomed. You left the farm at age eighteen, all skin and bones, your hair a tangled mess that hadn't been addressed for a lifetime.
Fourteen months in to your training, you had become both a beauty and a badass. And by badass, there wasn't a student in the school you couldn't take, either armed or unarmed. Even a few of the other fighting masters avoided having to spar with you. And your skill with the Malamus (a slightly curved, single edged blade approximately three and half foot in length that was unique to the kingdom) was unequalled by any at the Academy, save Master Khobo himself.
Your time at the Academy was spent training, eating and sleeping, and occasionally reading those tomes Master Khobo suggested for you. Some of those tomes were silly poetry and such, but Master Khobo said he wanted you to become something called a "Well Rounded Individual." Your admiration for Master Khobo was such that you would indulge what you considered his foolish whims.
After fourteen months of training, Master Khobo suggested you join your comrades when they went to a tavern in the town. You were quite reluctant, but Master Khobo's suggestions had the force of law with you. So you borrowed clothes from another woman, "dressed up" and headed to the tavern.
The first time you entered that tavern, all talking stopped. But that's because you weren't that scraggly farm kid you were more than a year ago. You were a tall, statuesque beautiful redhead (worn in a single braid that stretch to the small of your back) with a face that launched ships and green eyes that rivaled stars.
The group of students you were with made their way to their normal table, and you felt all eyes on you as you made your way through the tavern. When your group found their table, free drinks began arriving from all across the tavern.
Then one particularly burly patron came over to your table, and bluntly asked if your breasts were "real or ensorcelled." He announced to one and all that he could tell the difference with a simple squeeze, and promptly reached for your right breast to demonstrate his technique.
Said hand not only didn't reach its destination, it took several weeks to heal.
The brawl that ensued would become legendary, When the city guard arrived, they found three groups of people.You and your friends, the patrons and staff of the tavern who wanted nothing to do with the brawl, and the unconscious.
You never had any problems going into the tavern again.
As soon as the bards saw you, they began singing
She's got legs, she knows how to use them
She never begs, she knows how to choose them
You flash the bards a grin as you make your way to a table. Around you, the noise level began to return to normal. Despite your first night here, you've come to love this tavern. And the Heroes' Academy (especially Master Khobo) has earned a place in your heart. But this will be your last night in the city, for tomorrow you w8ll travel to
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