Suggest retiring to his bedchamber

You feel odd about pressing your seduction of this pampered fiend out in the open. You'd rather unleash your charms without frog-faced wugs leering at you from doorways.

"Perhaps we could discuss matters further in your bedchamber," you suggest, teasing your finger down Koorips' taut belly to the soft mound of his loincloth.

"You're quite the emissary," Koorips smiles, at last showing you that some of his teeth have been sharpened to fangs. "The elves chose wisely. Very well."

He snaps his fingers and motions to the guards and servants. The wugs obediently gather wine and morsels of meat and escort you into the bowels of the temple to a chamber with many cushions and walls draped with various rare silks probably looted from the stocks of unlucky merchantmen.

You drink more of the sweet wine and Koorips feeds you morsels of meat with his chubby fingers. You suck the juice from them and let your fingers wander over his knuckles. You look into his heavy-lidded eyes and close your lips around his finger, sliding it all the way into your mouth and then pulling your lips free.

"More wine?" he asks, offering you another full clay cup.

You're inflamed by the wine, nearly in an ecstasy from the potent brew. You sprawl beside him on the cushions and laugh. You see him watching you and you reach up to your blouse and part the buttons, exposing the pale flesh of your breasts and the wine-softened caps of your nipples.

"I was surprised," Koorips says, licking his lips, "that the elves would train you so completely that you would offer yourself to me. But after all, emissary in the language of the wugs is just another word for gift."

He leans forward and strokes your breast, pinching your nipple and lifting the weight of your entire breast with it. He tests the other and you feel a sudden chill. Koorips is not stroking you out of lust, he's stroking you out of hunger.

He reaches beside the bed and picks up a knife with a wicked edge.

"I promise," he says, turning towards you, "I will make it as quick and painless as possible, and send my regards to the elves for their fine choice of stock."

Your senses and limbs are dulled by wine, but you know you have only a moment to act or you will be killed! You look desperately around the chamber. There is a burning lantern within reach, a water pipe even nearer, and if you stretched across the bed you might be able to grasp your own sword which has been brought, along with all of your other belongings, into the bedchamber by the wug servants.

Koorips reaches for your hair and brings the wicked knife towards you.