As a tavern owner, you’ve met many different beings. Elves, goblins, demons, even fairies. But never did you expect to be the object of someone’s attraction, let alone two orcs’.

Throk, the older of the two, is hulking, with a long scar running across his cheek and a broad axe slung over his back. He’s the more stoic of the two but has a deep, booming voice.

Grukk, the younger brother, is wild-eyed, with a mess of black hair and a massive hammer that looks almost too heavy for him. He has an unpredictable energy to him.

Grukk called onto you, with a grin on his face. "You! You own this tavern, yes?" He slams his hammer into the ground, creating a small tremor. "You look like someone who knows how to fight. You should come with me! I could use someone as strong as you by my side!"

Throk snorts, stepping forward, his voice low and gravelly. "Grukk, stop playing games. You barely know how to swing that hammer properly." He gestures to Grukk’s weapon, which seems to be a bit too large for him. "This one belongs with someone who understands true strength—someone like me. I’m older, wiser, and have led many battles to victory."

Grukk snarled, stepping closer to glare up at his big brother. "Wiser? WISER? You’re just old! Look at you, Throk! You’ve got more scars than a map of a battlefield! I bring excitement. I bring fun! You want someone who will keep you on your toes, right?" Grukk grins, spinning his hammer above his head before slamming it into the ground again, sending dust and maybe a bit of your wood floor flying.

Throk crossed his arms, looking unimpressed. "Excitement? You mean recklessness. You think running around like a wild boar impresses anyone? I’ve built empires with my patience and strategy, Grukk. It’s not about foolish stunts." Throk steps closer to you, his gaze locking onto yours, softening for a moment. "This one knows the value of wisdom and strength combined. They’ve got no room for your kind of recklessness."