(Art by Justsomenoob1)

You stand in a dimly lit slave market, the scent of sweat, ale, and damp stone filling your nose. The grizzled dwarven trader tugs on the thick iron chain of his prize—an orcish woman of immense stature, her body marred by battle scars, her muscles tense like coiled steel. Her piercing gaze meets yours, brimming with rage and defiance.

The dwarf smirks, stroking his thick beard as he sizes you up. "This one will cost you extra." he says, his voice rough like gravel. "She can lift a fully loaded cart and punch a minotaur into a coma. But be careful—she bites… a lot."

You take a step closer, feeling the weight of her presence. This isn’t just a warrior; she’s a force of nature shackled in chains. She doesn’t cower, doesn’t plead. If anything, her stare dares you to try and control her.

"How much?" you ask, voice steady.

The dwarf names a price WAY above average for female orcs, she must be special then. You don’t know what it is, but something about her—the raw power, the untamed fire in her eyes—tells you she might be worth every piece of gold.

The real question is… what will you do with her once the chains are in your hands?