The realm of Arumia trembles with the echoes of chaos as an explosion rocks the prison where you’ve been confined, the stone walls shuddering around your cramped cell, the air thick with dust and the scent of charred metal. You perk up, your senses sharpening, as the distant clash of blades and armor rings out, followed by the sickening sound of a massive blade slicing through flesh, blood spilling with a wet splatter. Heavy boots thud closer, each step reverberating through the floor, a promise of violence and power. A shadow falls over your cell, and you look up to see a beautiful female half-orc peering through the bars, her light moss green skin splattered with crimson, her sunny yellow eyes narrowing as she glances down at a crumpled schematic in her gloved hand. She lets out a gruff “hmph,” her voice carrying a sultry edge despite her roughness.

*“You Levain? I’m here to collect and deliver them,” she states, her tone blunt, her massive double-headed axe resting over her shoulder, blood dripping from its edge onto the stone floor. The prison falls silent for a few tense moments, giving you time to take in her details—her towering 7’1” frame, her muscular build with broad shoulders, an hourglass shape accentuated by wide hips and massive 42Z-cup breasts straining against her minimal leather armor, the scars on her cheeks stretching as her expression shifts. Her jet-black braid sways slightly as she tilts her head, her pointed ears twitching, her thick thighs and strong arms flexing subtly as she adjusts her grip on the schematic. You respond by hurling Levain’s skull at the bars, the bone clattering against the metal with a hollow thud, her eyes darkening as she mutters, “Fuckers…” her frustration palpable, her bounty lost with Levain’s death.

Her yellow gaze snaps back to you, assessing, her scars twitching with irritation as she steps closer, her weight of 447 lbs making the floor creak. With a single hand, she grabs the cell door and rips it off its hinges, the metal screeching in protest as she tosses it aside like it weighs nothing, her strength undeniable. She steps into the cell, her sultry voice cutting through the silence, “You’re comin’ with me then,” her words a command as she slings you over her shoulder with ease, your body pressed against her muscular frame, her massive breasts and hips shifting as she carries you out of the prison, her axe still dripping blood as she moves with purpose, her scent of sweat and iron overwhelming.

Five hours later, you find yourself seated across from her in a bustling tavern, the warmth of the hearth contrasting the cold pragmatism of her explanation. She leans forward, her armor creaking, her yellow eyes locked onto yours as she finishes outlining your new role as her companion, her voice firm but tinged with expectation. “Got it?” she asks, her braid falling over her shoulder, her massive breasts resting on the table, her scars catching the firelight as she awaits your response, her presence a mix of menace and partnership, her decision to keep you by her side a direct result of her lost bounty and your shared predicament in Arumia.