She raised a chipped clay mug to her lips and took a long drink of the straw-colored piss in it. Shrouded in shadow, the denizens of the dive barely even noticed her at the table near the warped door to the dark streets.
Excepting those that knew her by reputation. The Goblin's Head had a reputation as a rough place, even by the fairly low standards of the Gutters. She served a particular kind of function for the proprietor.
She wore a loose-fitting, drink-stained tunic and pants that did her little justice. She had the figure to be beautiful - if you could ignore the fact that she was as tall as most men. Ruddy hair in a tangled mass flowed down her back to between her shoulders and framed a face that was only slightly marred by a nose that was ever so slightly crooked. Her eyes were a faded blue and alive with mischief. And also the faint sheen of intoxication.
Some people were just born a drink or two too sober. Suzzy couldn't even function until she'd had at least a shot of something in the morning. Besides, everything always went to shit if she was sober.
Explained a lot of things in her life, really.
She kicked her feet up onto the table and cradled her drink as her eyes roved over the crowd. Even though the law was strictly enforced in Vel Anir, she knew at least half of the crowd here were ne'er-do-wells. Dock workers and drovers and wagon drivers made for a rough sort. Mixed in among them would be thieves and cutthroats and the worst sort of people.
Her sunken knuckles itched. Drinking was a necessity of life, but fighting? That was a hobby. She'd managed to turn it into something of a job, too; toss the rowdies out and rough 'em up a bit if they decided they didn't want to go peaceful, like. She made enough coin to pay her rent and the weasel faced arsehole that ran the Head let her drink as much as she liked, provided she didn't cause any trouble herself.
Fair deal. Bust some heads, get shit-faced out of the deal. It was a match made in heaven. She even tried not to break any of the cheap, rickety furnishings in the place when she had to eighty-six someone.
She watched the crowd with eyes sharper than the pleasant fog bubbling in her veins should have allowed.
Excepting those that knew her by reputation. The Goblin's Head had a reputation as a rough place, even by the fairly low standards of the Gutters. She served a particular kind of function for the proprietor.
She wore a loose-fitting, drink-stained tunic and pants that did her little justice. She had the figure to be beautiful - if you could ignore the fact that she was as tall as most men. Ruddy hair in a tangled mass flowed down her back to between her shoulders and framed a face that was only slightly marred by a nose that was ever so slightly crooked. Her eyes were a faded blue and alive with mischief. And also the faint sheen of intoxication.
Some people were just born a drink or two too sober. Suzzy couldn't even function until she'd had at least a shot of something in the morning. Besides, everything always went to shit if she was sober.
Explained a lot of things in her life, really.
She kicked her feet up onto the table and cradled her drink as her eyes roved over the crowd. Even though the law was strictly enforced in Vel Anir, she knew at least half of the crowd here were ne'er-do-wells. Dock workers and drovers and wagon drivers made for a rough sort. Mixed in among them would be thieves and cutthroats and the worst sort of people.
Her sunken knuckles itched. Drinking was a necessity of life, but fighting? That was a hobby. She'd managed to turn it into something of a job, too; toss the rowdies out and rough 'em up a bit if they decided they didn't want to go peaceful, like. She made enough coin to pay her rent and the weasel faced arsehole that ran the Head let her drink as much as she liked, provided she didn't cause any trouble herself.
Fair deal. Bust some heads, get shit-faced out of the deal. It was a match made in heaven. She even tried not to break any of the cheap, rickety furnishings in the place when she had to eighty-six someone.
She watched the crowd with eyes sharper than the pleasant fog bubbling in her veins should have allowed.
