You usually prided yourself on being the man who could best hold his liquor in your little village, however now you were having second thoughts. You had arrived at the tavern as usual, only to find a MASSIVE female orc apparently having drunk half the tavern-regulars under the table, one after another. Seeing you arrive she grinned, exposing two lower tusk-like teeth.

“Finally, I was waiting for you. Heard you’re the champ around here, why don’t you have a seat?~” She motioned to the chair in front of her, licking her lips in anticipation for more alcohol.

Her amusement only grows as you take your seat next to her, barely even looking in your direction. She downs the entire flagon of ale with practically a single gulp and slams it back on the table, smiling wide at you challengingly. "So then, champ," she rasps through a throat full of ale, "what do you say we make this a little more interesting?" She leans in closer, her breath hot and foul as she whispers, "How 'bout... a wager?"

Her gaze drops briefly to your crotch before returning to meet yours with a grin that could only be described as predatory. You suddenly realize you're lucky you've been too busy watching her handle all the other patrons to notice just how... impressive she is physically. Not something you would normally care for in a woman, but tonight it does add an unexpected element of excitement

Her grin turns feral as she leans in even closer, her hot breath caressing your earlobe. "I've been feeling a bit peckish," she whispers, "so I say the loser of this little game has to not only admit defeat but also treat the winner to dinner tonight..." Her gaze flickers back and forth between your eyes, "...at their place."

You swallow hard. She's definitely stronger than you, there's no question about that... but she might just be bluffing. And if she's not? Well, this could end up being the most embarrassing night of your life.

Her grin widens, exposing those two lower tusk-like teeth again as she leans back in her seat with a satisfied sigh. "Good luck, champ," she says casually before snapping her fingers and calling out to one of the serving girls, "Bring me another flagon!" Once it's delivered, she downs half of it in one gulp, pausing only to wipe foam from her upper lip with the back of a mighty hand. "Alright then," she rasps hoarsely, glancing at you over the rim of her mug, "shall we begin?"

Her grin turns predatory as you down another flagon, obviously trying to match her pace. "Good man," she growls, her voice thick with amusement and alcohol. With a practiced flick of the wrist she sends another chair flying across the tavern in an impressive display of strength. It slams into the far wall, wood splintering under the impact and sending several patrons diving for cover. "Your turn," she challenges you with a mirthful gleam in her eyes, tilting her head back to drink deeply from her flagon once more.

As the last of your flagons clatters to the floor and shatters into a thousand jagged pieces, you watch in horror as Sharog's massive arm snaps out like a whip, snatching the now-empty vessel from the air before tossing it casually over her shoulder. The sheer strength needed for such a feat makes your knees wobble. "Well, well," she chuckles lowly as she turns her predatory gaze back on you, licking the foam from her upper lip with an almost sensual motion, "...looks like I win."

She leans in close once more, breath hot and foul against your cheek. "Tomorrow night then, champion. Be ready to treat me at..." Her grin widens as she glances around the tavern before giving you a knowing wink, "...your place. Your family's dinner table will never taste

"Well now," she drawls, her amusement plain as day in her tone, "you really are persistent, aren't you? Alright then, but only on one condition..." Her other hand slips beneath the table, gripping your crotch firmly through your trousers, "...that we have ourselves a little private party when we get there."

Her eyes glint with predatory hunger as she waits for your response, her breath hot and sweet against your ear. The feel of her hand on your aching member sends shivers down your spine and you can't help but wonder what sort of woman would come up with such a condition... or maybe it's just that nobody has ever dared to challenge her before.

Her grin broadens as you moan in surprise beneath her hand. She releases you with a smirk and pats your crotch gently before pulling herself up to stand, towering over you by almost half a meter. "Good boy," she praises, though there's an underlying note of mockery there too. "Let's get going then, champ. I'm sure your family will be thrilled to meet me."

She holds out her hand expectantly for you to take as she saunters toward the tavern exit. Even swaying slightly from the effects of all that alcohol, it's hard not to notice the confident grace with which she moves... or the way her powerful form fills out those roughspun clothes so perfectly. This is going to be quite an adventure indeed.

Her eyebrow arches as you confess that you live alone. "Hmm," she says noncommittally, "well then... I guess we'll just have to make the most of it once we get there." She smirks slightly, the alcohol finally beginning to catch up with her. It's not like her nightly drinking bouts in this new realm had been anywhere near as excessive as they usually were back home, but she hasn't been able to resist temptation tonight.

Still, the excitement of a challenge and the promise of hot, drunken passion afterwards is enough to keep her adrenaline pumping. She extends her hand once more for you to take as they reach the exit of the tavern, stepping out into the cool night air. "Lead on, champion," she growls playfully. "Let's see where this little adventure takes us."

She grins as you lead her through the night back to your home, her powerful grip easily crushing yours. "Don't worry," she says with a laugh, "I won't break anything." Once inside, she follows you to a nearby couch and plops down heavily on it, looking around the modest room with interest. Her gaze returns to you as you busily fix her something to eat in the kitchen.

"So," she says casually, "what do you do for a living?"

Her eyebrow arches slightly at that. "Really? A farmer, huh?" She looks at you appraisingly for a moment before shrugging. "I guess that explains why the women around here are so... frail in comparison." There's no malice in her words, just honest observation. She leans back on the couch, yawning widely as she waits for you to finish making her food.

Her gaze drifts over to a bookshelf beside the couch, full of ancient leather-bound volumes and ornate scrolls. "You study much?" she asks conversationally, nodding at the books. "Or are those just decoration?"

Her interest piqued, she finally decides to rise from the couch and ambles over to the bookshelf, peering at the titles on the spines with curiosity. "Hmm," she mutters as she runs a thick finger along the raised leather letters, "'Of Orcish Might'... 'The Art of War'... 'Strategems of the Great Chieftains'..." She looks up at you quizzically. "You study orcish history and military tactics?"

Her grin returns as she continues to peruse your collection, nodding slowly. "I see." Her gaze falls once more on the book about strategems, running a finger absently along the spine before pulling it free from the shelf and opening it up to a well-worn page, her brow furrowing in concentration as she begins to read aloud: "...and so the great chief Throk'gor, known