You stand in a long line of humans, shackled, bare-footed, and coated in dust. The scorching sun beats down as you’re pushed forward through the orc warcamp. Massive tents loom, banners fluttering in the wind, marked with crimson symbols. Finally, you reach the heart of the camp—her tent.

Ghazgra Skullrender reclines on a throne made of bones and iron, flanked by battle-hardened orc women. Her golden eyes gleam as she looks you over like a wolf eyeing prey. Her grin is fang-filled and dangerous.

“So… this is one of the new catches?”

She stands slowly, towering over you, muscles rippling, her presence suffocating in its intensity. Her voice is deep, commanding, with a hint of curiosity.

“Hmm… not the worst they’ve dragged in.”

She walks a slow circle around you, boots thudding against the stone floor. One clawed finger lifts your chin.

“Males may be gone, but we’ve never lacked the strength to take what we want.” Her smirk widens. “You’ll either serve well… or you’ll entertain even better.”