Winifred found it a decidedly odd sensation to be once more seated at a table across from her companions at the Plagued Rat, as they waited to be served amongst the rowdy bunch of degenerates who called the tavern their second home, after having just fought for her life against a monstrosity that could level the entire room of drunks with a single swipe of it’s claw.

Still, the smells of ale and vomit were surprisingly soothing to Winifred’s nose, and the hint of cooked meat in the air had her stomach rumbling.

“Stop glaring at me, Squeaks. I just thought the poor woman would want a taste of something strong after waking up.” Zach said with a chuckle, before continuing under his breath. “It’s like you’ve all forgot our ‘sweet lass’ has a bit of an addictive streak. Probably the longest she’s gone without some vice or another.”

Skrakch let out a low hiss and jabbed at Zacharias with a sharp claw. “You shut your mouth Zach, you’re the last person who should say anything about vices. After all, you’ve ‘sampled all the flowers worth tasting’ at the Denmother’s brothel.”

“Me not like eating flowers, best taste one’s always full of pokey bits.” Meekknuckle helpfully contributed, even as the diminutive Goblin sat quietly on a stool, using one of his sharpened fingernails to aimlessly scrape at the blackened gunk that coated the underside of the booze-stained table.

The bored simpleton played with the gunk between his green fingers, as he rolled it into a ball before flicking it off disconsolately in whatever direction pleased him, much to the annoyance of the nearby tables.

Still, from the wary looks and the whispered warnings, none of the taverngoers intended to cause a fuss. Interestingly, their eyes tended to stray towards Zacharias over her, as fear and anger flitted across their faces.

It was almost a shame, but… ‘Would I even enjoy a scrap right now?’

How many years had she spent throwing punch after punch, perfecting her techniques as she broke hundreds of training dummies under Blackmaul’s careful eye.

How many close fights in dirty alleyways had she survived, how many little cuts and bruises had she accrued on her body, only to stand up and throw another fist.

Every time she came back for more, as the thrill of throwing herself at something drove her forward.

Winifred was under no illusions about herself, she was a blunt instrument. Prone to violence and rage, happy to bash things, or people, into smithereens if they offended her. Or looked at her sideways.

Or just for fun, really.

But now… ‘I’d crush them. Even without using me Pact directly it would nae be a fight. Even if Skrakch or Zach joined in against me…’ The thought weighed at her, even as Winifred half-heartedly kept an ear on her companions' useless prattling.

“See, the Goblin knows a thing or two about trying new things,” Zach mocked the table, no doubt knowing Skrakch would take offense at the implication that Meekknuckle could be more experienced than the Ratling.

“Nothing wrong with having a taste of something new. You might end up liking it, eh Winnie?”

“Not really,” Winifred muttered as she cast her eye out for the serving lady, her stomach rumbling out its hunger for all to hear. “I’m beginning tae think it’s better tae just stick with what ye know… like a pitcher of ale and a steak pie.”

“Seriously, where is-“ Winifred was cut off at the sudden appearance of a portly matron, who was wiping her hands on the grimy apron hanging off her white linen shirt.

As she smiled at the table with surprisingly white teeth, the newcomer greeted them with a motherly greeting. “Hello there dears, what can I get you fine folk today? We’ve got a fresh pot of soup on the hearth, and some bread to go with it.”

Skrakch was the first to respond, the Iskrin’s eyes squinting at the server. “Since when does this shithole offer a ‘fresh pot of soup’, or Hells, fresh anything. And you must be a new hire yourself, yes?”

“That’s right, I just started this morning.” The waitress beamed at the Ratling, before pulling a sheet of paper from one of her many pockets. “And the previous owner just retired, or so I was told. People are saying someone bought the place up for a pretty penny.”

Before Skrakch could inquire any further, Zacharias waved his hand across the table dismissively. “As thrilling as the little details always are, we’ll just take four tankards of ale. And… three meat pies, I’d wager.”

Ignoring the Halfling’s tone with well-practiced ease, the older woman jotted down their order. “Perfect, we just got a batch out of the oven. I’m sure you’ll love them.” She finished her sentence by jotting down a final note, and flashed them another smile before making her way to the next table.

“Is it just me, or did she seem familiar?” Skrakch asked, his eyes trailing the waitresses movements. “And since when was Ol’Deckard wanting to sell the place? I thought this tavern was with his family for generations.”

“Who cares?” Zach answered back instantly, leaning back on his chair. “So long as they don’t start watering down the booze, it’s no skin off my nose. Really it’s-“

Winifred let the Halfling’s ramblings flow past her as she kept her eyes on the new matron as the woman jovially laughed with the clientele, taking orders and swerving from table to table.

‘She is familiar, isn’t she…’ For whatever reason, Winifred wasn’t able to pull her eyes off the woman’s form.

And yet, she was certain she hadn’t ever laid eyes on the waiter before, so the sense of familiarity felt off. ‘It’s more like I’ve seen someone who moves the way she does, with the same confidence. The same poise, but who…”

As a flash of black hair and beautiful eyes flickered across Winifred’s mind, the brawler had to resist the urge to snort in derision, as the image of Catalina propped up in her head.

Catalina had been a stunning woman, sure, but the eyecandy from the Auction couldn’t look less like the waitress if she tried. Still, maybe there was a similarity to the pair. Something about the way they both moved to showcase their assets, grabbing people’s attention with ease.

‘How could ye resist staring?’

“-you alright Scary Lady? You face go red, stomach hurt maybe?” Meekknuckle’s voice broke Winifred out of her trance, the little Goblin poking at her side as he peered up at her.

A quick glance shot across the table was enough to confirm the other two hadn’t noticed her wandering gaze, so Winifred let out a sigh of relief.

“Aye, it’s fine Meek. I was just thinking about… something else.” She finished, touching her warm cheeks and willing them to cool down. “Nothing to worry about. I’ve had enough poking and prodding for today from you anyways.”

The Cleric squinted up at her for a second, before giving a small shrug. “Me just making sure you okay. Scary Lady sleep for long time, not good for health. Unless human’s like sleep lots?”

Chuckling in response, Winifred was about to answer when a thought struck her. “Hey, yer back tae calling me Scary Lady? What happened tae Nice Lady?” She asked with a smile, settling back down at the table and looking at Meekknuckle.

“That obvious. Scary Lady is scary, Meek not sure if you wake up. That extra scary, and not nice, so you back to Scary Lady.” The Goblin confirmed with a resolute nod.

“That’s…” Winifred trailed off, not quite sure how to respond to such a unique sentiment. “How about ye start using my actual name then? That way it can work for either scary or nice?”

Meekknuckle seemed to consider the idea for a moment, before giving a quick nod and a flash of his yellowed fangs. “Then Meek call you Winnie. Like the others. But me no get why Ugly-One makes mean-smile when he says it.”

Snorting in amusement, Winifred leaned back in her chair and reminisced about her heydays for a bit. “Yeah, I used tae find the nickname annoying. So of course the wee man started using it constantly. Dinnae worry though, it’s long since grown on me.”

It looked like Meekknuckle was about to respond, but a small clattering sound drew the tables attention towards a serving girl with a tray of drinks and food as she arrived by the table.

Winifred felt a small frown begin to cross her face as she realized the motherly waitress from before was nowhere to be seen, but as Skrakch shoved a tankard of ale into her hands, the Ratling turned a rather intense stare in her direction.

Before the Ratling opened his mouth, Winifred held out a placating hand, almost going to raise her bloodied stump before swapping to the other arm. “Any chance we could skip this little chat? Chalk it up tae a dumb mistake and move on?”

From the snarl that crossed Skrakch’s face, she knew that wouldn’t be good enough. Winifred was still surprised however, to notice both Zach and Meekknuckle staring at her in curiosity.

“Alright, alright. Let me start from the beginning then,” Winifred growled out the words, before taking a swig of the mead and testing the heat of her food with a prodding finger.

“First off, let me tell ye all a bit more about the three months that the Tomb-Makers had me confined in that Gods be damned tower of theirs for…”