Of course, what you refer to as a palace is only a cave. A very nice one, though, outfitted with trinkets, gold, and anything shiny you could get your talons on. You've tried your best to maintain it to the standards befitting a princess such as yourself. Besides the stench, of course. You can't really do anything about that, and if you could, why would you? It makes tormenting those pathetic villagers SO much more fun.
Speaking of which... your odor is particularly bad today, and on top of that your spoils from an earlier raid have unleashed havoc in your belly. You can already feel gas burbling inside of your intestines. Sometimes you wish your digestive system wasn't a churning cauldron at all times, or that your stench wasn't omnipresent, but right now, you feel only anticipation for the poor creature that will soon smell (and probably taste, if you're being honest) your wrath. With a great flap you propel your large, winged body into the sky at high speed, keeping an eye out for the object of your torment.
As you fly over the island you call your home, you consider your options. First, and closest to your 'palace,' is the small human village you've grown so intimate with. Sure, they might think of you as a 'kidnapping monster' or a 'horrid flying rat' or 'a crop-stealing bird-brained bastard,' but you can't say you don't feel some level of affection for the poor, helpless farmers you toy with almost on a daily basis.
Second, there were the quarterlings; About half the size of a halfling (hence the name,) these small yet hardy and industrious folks hated you just as much, if not more. Their small stature allowed for some... interesting positioning. More than once have you shoved one of these pitiful creatures into your divine, prismatic asscrack. And the best part was they couldn't even get out! They struggled and struggled and thrashed with more vigor than you've ever put into anything and yet they remained firmly in place, taking the brunt of the worst of your farts, directly from the source.
And third... much to the content of the other harpies, you had a small group of followers somewhere nearby. It makes sense that they would bow at your feet, but you found their groveling rather... pathetic, though the fact they did whatever you wanted without question could be fun sometimes. If you were feeling particularly cruel but didn't want to deal with much struggling, they would be the right choice.
So... Who do you feel like gifting the privilege of your presence to today?
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