Master Level Wench (3/3 pass)

The first round was easy enough, pouring nearly 90 flagons within the first five minutes of the rush. Her fingers held a dexterous grip upon the trays where she spun them like tops when loading a flagon.

When the keg ran dry she mustered a reserve of strength and rolled it to the tavern floor then hoisting it upright before resuming the pours.

When all had been poured the waif cried, “MEAD! Coming through!” Pirouetting through the crowd she endured shoves and bumps. An elbow to her left boob, a boot upon her sandaled toes, and reaching revealers eager to earn earlier. Even that did not phase her composure. She seemed to float through the space, it was familiar and quotidian to her. Rote was the rush, it was all easy to a Master Wench.

….

Later, her tip jar grew to encompass 237 crowns!