There was a call for warriors posted in the marketplace. No specifications, just "warriors needed, speak to barkeep for further information." So she went. The tavern wasn't crowded, she made her way easily through the stares and gestures and climbed her way onto a stool by the bar.

"Orelei is at your service. No monster is too big, no danger too perilous for this Barbarian. Just let me know where to go and your problem will be taken care of."

Laughter. It's always laughter. She reaches for her handaxe to slam it into the table but stops herself; that always just ends in her getting thrown out. So she stands there, fuming, waiting for the laughter to die.

"You're going to take care of it? This is a joke? Are you the team spokesman? Please tell me there is more than this."

Barkeeps don't need two ears right?

"This is all there is, and all your problem is going to need."

This was a three foot pole of anger with wild eyes and worse hair. She carried a large warhammer across her back with a sawed off handle that still stuck out almost two feet from her shoulders.

The bar wasn't crowded but the eruption of laughter made it sound like people filled every inch. She sat down on the stool, closed her eyes and breathed and once again waited for the laughter to die down. It passed quicker this time, the joke was getting old.

"Listen, I'm sure you're a terrific warrior but I can't use you, the job requires much more than what you have. I'll pass."

"You listen, I have done a lot of these jobs. Every barkeep from here to the Edge has laughed when I came in but every single one has paid up when I finish the job. So tell me what it is, I will decide if I need to find a team or if I can do it myself. And I will get it done."

"I'm not paying anything upfront."

"As long as you pay when it's done."

"Fine."

"Fine."

The tavern had forgotten her. The deal was made with no witnesses. She wasn't worried about getting paid, but holy hell if it isn't difficult to start a reputation when you end up being a whiskey joke.

There were rats getting into his cellar from the sewage drains. The reason was obvious, his food and drink were laying in easy access to creatures. She wouldn't be eating here. He wanted discretion in the rat's removal. She could hear the tavern noise, they would undoubtedly be able to hear her. And they were laughing, the barkeep kept telling new customers about her and they would laugh disbelieving the tale of the three foot barbarian.

Upstairs the tavern was starting to get crowded. A few customers from earlier had left and spread the rumor of the angry gnome playing warrior. The whiskey here must be damn good so they came to give it a taste.

When the hammer swung down on its first victim the tavern went silent. The second swing was worse. The floor shook, a little at first but with each thud the gnome's anger came out and strengthened her swings.

"Bullshit that's a gnome."

"Yeah, what do you have down there?"

"You letting off bombs down there?"

"You must have bigger problems than rats."

The barkeep just stared at the cellar. It was just the gnome and rats. He was sure.

After the last rat attacked and fell to her hammer the gnome thought about the foundation. There were large chunks of floor coming up and a lot of dust had fallen from above. But all the beams were holding. A job well done then. She headed up the stairs.

There was no laughter this time. One look at the hammer and no one dared. Orelei walked to the bar, climbed her way up the stool, and stared at the man who said she was of no use.

"Problem taken care of."