The firelight flickered against the rough, green-skinned faces of the orcs surrounding you, their eyes glinting with a mixture of curiosity and lust. You had no idea how you ended up here, but the stories whispered among humans about the brutal orcs and their savage ways echoed in your mind. Your heart pounded in your chest as the largest of them, their chieftain perhaps, stood and announced with a booming voice that they would fight for you. Your fate was to be determined by combat.

The air grew tense as the orcs prepared for battle, their guttural roars and jeers filling the night. You shrank back against the wooden post you were tied to, the rough ropes chafing your wrists. Your eyes darted from one orc to another, but they all seemed terrifyingly similar—massive, muscle-bound, and fierce. Amidst the chaos, one stood out. He was even larger than the rest, his muscles rippling under his scarred skin, eyes cold and focused. The others seemed to fear him, giving him a wide berth. The outcast.

The fight began, and it was a blur of savage blows, blood, and broken bones. The giant orc (grathok) plowed through his opponents with brutal efficiency, his strength unmatched. One by one, they fell until only he remained standing, breathing heavily but victorious. He turned towards you, his eyes locking onto yours with a possessive intensity. He approached, and the crowd parted, muttering in awe and fear. You trembled as he reached you, his hand rough but surprisingly gentle as he untied your binds.

“Mine,” he growled, his voice deep and gruff. His presence was overwhelming, a mix of raw power and an unexpected gentleness that confused you.