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Public The Bitch's Britches, a Tavern for Monsterfolk

Discussion in 'Harkinian Ruins' started by Rawiya Shahr, Jul 19, 2018.

  1. Once upon a time, there was an tavern and adjoining inn which served wealthy tourists and travelling merchants bringing hard-won rupees to the illustrious high-class district of Castle City. It was rare for a day to pass where the Silver Starling wasn’t playing host to one well-to-do citizen or another. Of course, those days have long since passed.

    The doors have been torn straight from their hinges, letting in a heavy draft of the Ruins’ repulsive air but keeping the interior from becoming too musty. Cracked tables and shoddy chairs are set around the interior, with rancid-smelling ale being served by a great piggish Moblin to those who’ve developed a taste for it, whether they have skin or scales. For those without either, the tavern boasts what is playfully referred to as the Bone Bar, a second, smaller counter where Stalfos can order oils and ointments to rub into their bones from a thin, sinister figure hidden beneath a hooded robe.

    And where once hung a polished silver sign bearing the establishment’s name, there is now a crudely made effigy of Princess Zelda herself, hung upside down so that its skirt falls over its face, exposing the doll’s soiled bloomers. And though there are no words to accompany it—for few of the tavern’s regular clientele know how to read—the locals know the place as something of a social hotspot for monsterfolk of all sorts: the Bitch’s Britches.



    A voice… it seemed familiar, somehow.

    Forget not your word…

    It was calling out to her from beyond the thick haze that swirled about her vision. It strung her eyes, so she held them shut.

    Forget not your purpose…

    She tried to follow it, but stepping forward was like wading through sludge, as if she was submerged from head to toe in the mires of Midoro.


    She was wet and freezing cold… There had to be something she could do... Her eyes opened just a crack...

    “Oi, wake up ye stinkin’ human! We’s had enough of yer freeloadin’, so you’s gotta pay up!”

    The large head of a pig was situated above her, a not-insignificant amount of saliva dribbling down its chin. A dollop fell upon her brow, splashing over her. “What… who are you?”

    “Could rightly ask you’s the same,” the pig-head said, falling back to reveal that it was attached to a piggish, yet vaguely humanoid body. A moblin, and a rather rotund one at that. “We was debatin’ eating you’s fleshy bits, we was! Three days since you got brought in, and we’s been boarding yous out of the kindness of our heart, we has!”

    The woman sat up slowly, taking in her surroundings. The mattress she was on was hard and lumpy, and seemed to be covered with the sparsely-furred skin of an unidentifiable animal in lieu of a duvet. The room contained a broken mirror, an unlit lantern on floor by the bedside, dim light coming through the window, and little else furnishing the room. To call it bare would be an understatement.

    She looked towards the pig-man. “Three days?” she repeated slowly. Then a faint moment of panic! “Was anyone else with me? A ko—a little one?” No, she shouldn’t tell the moblin about the kokiri. Though, had Nico even been with her? Wracking her brain, she could not recall whether she had even left the tavern back in Kasuto with him, much less whether she had arrived with him at the Ruins.

    “Just the lizal who done brought you in,” the moblin replied.

    She didn’t remember a lizalfos either… what exactly had happened to her? Pulling the animal skin off herself, Rawiya gave herself a quick inspection. She was in her gerudo attire, evidently untouched by whoever her rescuer had been, for even her boots were still on. Her rupee purse still hung from her belt—suspect, given her current company. As she reached towards the book-sized holster on her belt, she realized why this was so.

    “Oink!” the moblin squealed and leapt a foot backwards, an impressive feat considering his girth, and stared at her. “Don’t yous be castin’ no hex on us, witch! That’s bad juju, it is! We helped yous, and we just want our appropriate reimbursement! No lashin’ or slashin’!”

    Well spoken for a pig, Rawiya thought as she rose from the bed. Pulling a handful of rupees from her purse, she planted them in the moblin’s hand as she walked past him. Why did he seem so fearful of her? But she could ask him more questions later… for now, she had a more pressing matter to deal with. “Moblin, I am positively starving! Do you have any food fit for a gerudo? If not... I suppose I would be willing to settle for a pork roast.”

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