"I can have fun without ya, ya know! That brothel is still there, innit?"
"Indeed." Gyllen coughed. "Have fun, I suppose." And with that, Gyllen went his own separate way without any clear direction in mind. Meanwhile, the goblin rambled alone across the piers, passing by the many seafront establishments while on her merry way to have her various openings filled by men twofold her size. However, she stopped her journey early outside a building situated between a noxious fishmongers and sleazy literature shop. Compared to those two, it was an unusually squat structure, with proportionally measured swinging doors and circle-shaped windows. A rectangular signboard above the entrance simply dubbed the place: "The Short Shack."
Min pushed the double doors aside as she entered the construction. The low frame fitting her short body without any impediment. The interior was merely that of an average pub, albeit on a reduced scale, with tables around the floor, booths against the wall and a bar stretching across the far end of the room. All the patrons were non-humans of varying races, nothing too unusual, especially if you hailed from Malmhule's Monster District, although each attendee had something in common regardless of species: every one of them was under five feet tall.
"Ah, unchanged..." Min blissfully sighed. Barely taking a few steps further inside, the redhead found herself already being barraged by a variety of whistles and whoops from a nearby gang of male goblins, most likely sailors judging from their attire, who had quickly become excited by the sight of the first half-way decent looking member of their native race in upwards of months on end.
"Hoy, lass! Lass! Feelin' hungry? I've got a big, juicy cucumber ya can chew on!" One of the obscene mariners wasted no time not-so-subtly suggesting. "'Least flash us yer knockers! C'mooon, do some brothers a favour, yeah?"
"Sorry, lads, but I'm in the mood for fryin' bigger fish tonight~" Min walked on by with gracing them with so much as a glance.
"Slag..." One of the males muttered in typical goblin fashion to insult those you are unable to gain from, but for someone like Min, it was almost a compliment. The female goblin rested an elbow on the bar upon reaching it, leaning her upper half over while sticking out her wide rear within her taut, brown shorts, one stubby leg crossed over the other and resting on the toe tips of her boot.
"Oi, matey!" She reached over and tugged the back of the gnomish bartender's shirt to gain his attention. "Slide me four pints a' Nidavellir!" The goblin requested when he turned around. Her order was filled promptly and several metallic mugs were carefully placed on the counter. Less gracefully, Min grabbed each container by their handles, fitting two in each set of fingers, and miraculously did not drop a single drip of the liquid within even as the foam heads precariously swished about.
"Are you going to get someone to help you or...?" The barkeep asked, unsure if the goblin was up to snuff about her method of carrying.
"Nah, mate, I'm jus' here by me ownsome." Min replied.
"Wait, they're not
all
for you, are they?" He asked again, eyes grown wider.
Min did not stay by the counter long enough to answer, already starting her search for a unoccupied (and stable) table she could fit all these steins onto. As she walked, her concentration was diverted but for a moment thanks to the group of goblin sailors again heckling her with raunchy invites and vulgar promises, but by the time she realised she was on a collision course with another wandering and unobservant customer, it was already far too late.
Walking into this stranger was like walking into a brick wall. Min bounced right off the immovable character and straight to the floor, landing directly on her cushioned tush. The sudden recoil sent the quartet of steins flying from the goblin's hands and, as the laws of gravity combined with some bad luck dictated, half the cooled contents splashed directly across the goblin's chest, soaking into her skimpy, brown top. Min jumped back to her feet even faster than she fell with a reactionary hoot from the sharp chill that nipped her breast flesh. Her nipples quickly and prominently stiffened against the fabric as a secondary result from the refrigerated liquid which all the masculine eyes in the room took careful note, though Min did not realise this from being too furious with the armoured attendee who had the other half of the fermented fluids showered over them.
"Watch where ya lookin'!" Min angrily grabbed onto the unknown's damp shoulder to bullishly swivel them around to face her. "Ya owe me four new pints now, ya arse!"
"You gotta be jokin', dog-face!? You'er the one paying for my cleaning bill! I'm soaked!" The other pygmy said back to Min in an equally unsophisticated voice, unintimidated. The person in question turned out to be a female dwarf; a sturdy, prideful people native to the north lands known for their natural talents in mining and manufacturing who primarily lived in grand underground cities built into mountains. Physically, they closely resembled humans, the only real differences in appearance being an average dwarf's more stout frame and inborn muscles. Every dwarf is also capable of growing magnificent facial hair, even the women! Although, beards have long fallen out of style for lady dwarves and you'll be hard pressed to find one who does not regularly shave. As was expected, this one was no exception, her dirtied - yet handsome - face scowling down at Min as she stood a solid few inches above even with the goblin's boots taken into account, with clenched fists on her burly waist. Her jawline was strong and her nose was broad and thick, blonde eyebrows creased above her pretty blue eyes while her soaked hair, separated into four unevenly lengthed braids running down her back, continued dripping with the beverage. She was wearing a headband, now saturated by the brew, and attired in full iron battle gear with a shield on her back and a hand axe on her hip, indicating her occupation as a warrior, likely a mercenary."You'er the one goin' around bumpin' into folks like a right bewt!"
"I don' know what that means but I doubt yer apologisin'..." Without backing down in the slightest, Min advanced against the fair-haired dwarf without breaking eye contact until their bodies were touching. The two intensely stared daggers into one another, Min's sodden bust squished against the dwarf's chestplate as the goblin tilted her neck upwards a little. All gazes watched on in utter silence, expecting a grudge match between the two women to break out any minute now, but the duo was anti-climatically divided by a third pair of hands moments before they could butt heads.
"Hiiildaaa...!" The owner of these hands whined, revealing the dwarf's name. "I look away for two seconds and you're already getting into a scuffle again! You promised you wouldn't while we were in town!" The mediator was a halfling, yet another diminutive race whose population was widespread throughout the occidental countries. Halflings are generally timid folk who spend much of their days in their cosy hamlets working simple jobs no more complicated than field work. Almost paradoxically, however, is a halfling's endless curiosity. Many of them, especially young adults, end up leaving their tranquil birthplaces at least one point in their long lives, ranging from as short as a couple of weeks to as long as a few decades, to see what this world has to offer outside of eating, sleeping and ploughing while also presenting the chance for them to partake in grand feats to retell back home as tales for future generations to remember them by. Some even end up moving into the bigger towns and cities permanently, finding themselves unable to return back to a humdrum existence. Thanks to their innate cunning and nimbleness, they are more capable than one may originally assume.
Ignoring their obvious low stature, halflings were characterised by their thick, curled hair, round ears somewhat larger than that of a human's and - perhaps most notable -- their typical complete lack of footwear in thanks to the hyperdense tissue comprising their feet negating the need for such items, although some still wore shoes or boots purely for cosmetic reasons as it oft denoted a symbol of affluence, and was the case with this specific member of their race. This specific brunette specimen's locks kinked past her shoulders and her ears stuck ever so slightly out from underneath. Her thin eyebrows furrowed over her wide eyes, the colour of which matched her hair perfectly. Her facial structure was softer than the dwarf's, round and even a little plump, with a cute button nose in the centre of her features. She was wearing a long, elaborate black coat, kept open while inside to reveal a smart burgundy vest and white shirt combination complete with a frilly cravat and a dark pair of trousers, giving off the aura of one with substantial wealth.
"C'mon, Penny, just one punch! This munchkin wouldn't be able to handle it." Hilda said as she tried pushing against her companion's contending arm.
"Who you callin' a munchkin, fatso!?" Min tried a tackle against the dwarf, only to have Penny prevent her doing so.
"I'm stocky! Not fat!" Hilda growled through gritted teeth, unaware from her anger she was squashing the halfling between herself and her competitor.
"Hilda!" Penny called out her associate's name in vain again as she was crushed.
