Most of the time, working in a tavern really wasn't all that bad. Plenty of customers came in from the waterfront nearby, mostly travellers. The people weren't usually that horrid, the job paid well, and hey, you even got free board in the inn upstairs!
It was times like these, however, that made you rethink your place of work.
"Oi, wench! Another round for the table!" A gruff voice called out to you, making you look up from your chore of cleaning the counter.
"Of course, sir." You replied easily, turning to the casks of ale that were stocked behind you. Setting the glasses on a tray, you made to walk over to the table you had been called to. A few jeers and catcalls from drunken and sober men alike reached your ears, but you blocked them out, focused on your job.
Some of the men pulled on your skirts as you walked by, but the plain blue dress was sturdy enough to withhold their tugs.
Setting down the tray on the table it had been requested to, you passed out the foaming mugs efficiently, wanting to get back to the safety of your counter.
"You know, missy, I wouldn't mind a round of you as well." The man's breath made you grimace as it fanned over your face, and you couldn't tell if you were more repulsed by the smell, or what he was insinuating through the (admittedly terrible) proposition.
Keeping your cool, you picked up the tray and stepped away smoothly. "Sorry sir, but I'm only here to serve the ale."
He smirked at that, showing off yellowing, crooked teeth. "Come on lovely, I know you're dying to show us what you've got!"
You sneered at that, but quickly turned around to hide it, and began to walk back to your spot in front of the barrels. You reminded yourself to keep steady on your way, despite how upset you were at being treated in such a way. A sudden pressure on your bottom, however, made you lose it a bit.
You spun around, only to be faced by the same man who had called you over in the first place. He was grinning, and you could see dark intentions behind his bloodshot eyes. "Come now, tell me, how much?"
"Get your hands off of me! I am not for sale!" You seethed at the drunk, done playing nice, and dug your fingernails into his arm to make him pull it back.
He winced a bit, but twisted your arm and pulled you harshly so that you fell into his lap. "Fiesty, I like that."
You scrambled to get up, sputtering. You knew your face was red with anger, and though you looked around for someone to give you assistance, the only others in the tavern were drunk old men who seemed to be rooting on your aggressor, or the few...ladies of the night, let's say, who frequented the old stone place. A couple of the young women gave you sympathetic glances from their spots on the laps of men who had paid for their services, but none of them made a move to help you. You didn't blame them, though, for how could they? This man was a lot larger, and stronger, than you were.
One of the man's hands grasped your chin as the other grasped your upper arm much too tight, and for a moment you wondered if it would leave a bruise, but you shook out of your thoughts when you remembered you needed to find a way away from the scoundrel.
"I'll say it again. Let. Me. Go!" You exclaimed, again attempting to stand up. When he did not relent, you bit his hand sharply and jumped to your feet as he cried out.
The man stood, furious, and lifted a hand to into the air as if he was going to slap you. "Why, you little-"
A silver line flashed through the air, and the man cried out again, lowering his hand and clutching it to his chest. Hearing a noise at the other side of the bar, you noted that the silver flash had been a knife, and it was now embedded in the side of the bar counter.
