"I swear to drunks I'm not God." The slurry voice said, and then hiccupped.
"Damn right about them dragons," a deep voice said. "They've been killing us for hundreds o' years, why hasn't nobody done nothing about it?"
"They're too scared," the gruff voice said. "These damn lords spend all day safe in their castles and leave the real work to us folk."
"Hey pretty lady," someone said way too close for Kendra's liking.
She opened her eyes to see someone staggering over toward her table. He was at least fifty pounds overweight and very drunk. His tankard sloshed beer onto his pants and shirt with every unstable step, and he wore a look of unrestrained l**t as he undressed her with his eyes.
Kendra sighed; same s**t, different tavern.
"You want I show you some much good times?" The drunka
