Grak felt a headache developing between his eyebrows. It curiously resembled the tiny barbarian woman in front of him in shape. He was quite certain he could have talked the other men out of violence, he was just here for nightly shelter.
Had she really called him a “boy-whore?”
He couldn’t help but admire her... efficiency, as she kept her body between him and the rest of the patrons. She took some hits, but that only seemed to make her fight harder. Grak pulled his pack from its sling across his back and crouched to start inventorying the ingredients he would need for some decent healing magics.
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