Head for the Bar

 'Well I guess there's no point in being unnecessarily rebellious,' she decides, 'Let's see what Zara wants.'
 As she enters the long building she saw before, Krystal is assaulted by a wall of odours including sex, booze, and possibly blood.  Off duty warriors slam huge tankards together with lizgirls on their laps.  Other girls attempt to scrub the floor while they themselves are being plowed into it, adding to the mess, or scurry back in forth with more beer, suffering groping claws at every turn.  A stage off to one side harbours a seductively swaying sharpclaw woman adorned with ribbons, which might actually be a beautiful display if a circle of masturbating warriors weren't taking potshots at her.  As she pauses to take all this in, Krystal sees Zara waving from behind the bar.
 "Welcome, Krystal!"  She calls cheerfully.  "You get to work for me today."
 "Doing what, exactly?" the vixen asks dubiously.
 "Take your pick," smiles Zara, "Cleaning, serving, or dancing?"
 "Of course," Krystal mutters.