You are an orc! Attack!

You charge into town, trusting your natural strength and the surprise element to be more than enough. You crash through the door of the nearest house, splintering it like it was nothing, and spot your first kill. An older man with an impressive beard, bow and arrow over his back. Likely a hunter, and by his age perhaps the town's leader. Before he can even gasp out a warning, your massive hand closes around his throat and you throw him like a doll through the demolished door.

He skids across the ground and collides with the stone fence on the opposite side of the road, and you hear a sickening crack, bringing a fierce smile to your face. Perfect.

You emerge, stooping under the doorframe and see more townspeople emerging now, brought out by the ruckus. Men, women, children, they gape at you as you draw yourself to your full height... and then run, screaming, in the opposite direction.

You laugh and give chase. They were weaker than you imagined! Anyone who put up resistance was crushed. The town was nothing but farmers and their wives. Even attacking you en masse, you were unstoppable, tossing the humans like dolls, batting away their weapons, cracking skulls, a red mist covering your vision as you gave in to your orcish bloodlust...

You finally come out of your rage, pantign hard, chest heaving, covered in blood (mostly theirs, but a few lucky strikes opened some scratches on you). You look around, and anyone who hadn't been killed in your rampage was gone, long gone, and the town was yours.

Well, it was doubtful they'd have made a good tribe anyway. And besides, that destruction had gotten your blood flowing in ways you couldn't even remember! It sure as hell beat hunting or the friendly brawls among your tribesmen.

However, you worked up one hell of a thirst, and your stomach growls as well. You haven't eaten since yesterday. You kick aside some of the dead and go towards the largest building, what was once a small general store as far as you can see, and push the door open. Good, good; you see smoe food on the shelves and large barrels of drink. You crush the top of one and dip a tankard in, gulping it down in one go, the bitter **** pouring down your throat and chin, then dip it in again and again.

Grinning wide, you turn to the shelves and yank a whole cheese wheel down, chomping into the side and spitting out the wax seal, grabbing some salted meat with your other hand and shoving that in your mouth too. You travel around the shelves, pulling down anything edible and stuff it in your face, your belly swelling and mood improving even more as you take your spoils.

So THIS is what being a proud orc meant! Fighting, killing, and taking what was rightfully yours by might! You laugh, starting off with a small chuckle, before going into full on, raucous belly laughs. Your idiot brother exiling you was the best damned thing that he'd done! Never had you felt more alive!

Your laughter fades and you sigh, contented, sitting down heavily on the ground and take another tankard of ale, looking around the ruined place happily. You'd stay here a while longer, eat all you could and enjoy the high life, and then be off. However, that happy plan and feeling are gone in an instant as movement catches your eye.

In the corner of the room, a floorboard shifted. Your eyes narrow as you haul yourself up to your feet, stomping slowly over.

"Who's there," you growl, voice low and menacing. You wait for an answer, knowing whoever was down there wouldn't answer. You could imagine them cowering in the dark, a sick grin crawling over your face. "I am Ghorbash Orkul and this is my town now!" You roar, and bend over, sliding your fingers between the cracks in the boards and rip it upwards. A hidden door to the cellar! It comes off its hinges with a loud crack of wood and squealing, breaking metal. "And everyone in it is gonna die by my hand or join me!" You shout, jumping down the hole, crouched and ready for another fight, snarling and baring your tusks as you whirl about...

And see a group of women! By the gods, you were the luckiest orc alive. You prowled closer, feet stomping on the earthen floor, dust shaking from the ceiling as you advance on them. There's a dozen, ranging from almost childlike in appearance to clearly middle aged women, with one particularly feisty looking girl in front of the group. She stares at you, a small dagger in her hand, eyes dangerous, arms wide as if trying to block those behind her from your view. You stop your advance, having herded them all into a corner anyway, and address the girl.

"What're you planning to do with that?" you asked, chuckling. "I won't even feel that thing."

"I don't care!" She yells back, pointing it at you now. "I'll die before I let you touch these women! You... you... filthy monster!" She spat.

You laughed. Her insult had as much weight behind it as her threat. "Monster, eh? Well, this monster's yer new master, girly. All you are mine now!" He shouted at the rest, who huddled closer and whimpered. "I'm Ghorbash and this little town is my first conquest, and you ladies are gonna be my wives... you're gonna help me make a tribe of my own," you tell them, and the fear and disgust is clear on their faces as you tell them what you have planned for them.

You turn, walk back to the ladder leading up, and reach upwards. Dragging a heavy, full barrel over the opening, you turn back and grin at them in the darkness.

"Wish I could say I'd give you girls a chance," you smirk, "but I ain't. You're all gonna be my wives, and you can make it easy..." you advance on them again, eyes burning with the same rage you had when you destroyed their men, "or make it hard. I'm going to enjoy it either way, but you all... well, not so much~"

"Never!" The girl roars, taking a few steps at you, waving her dagger.

"Anna, no!" One of the women shrieks.

"You've killed our fathers, husbands, and sons! I won't let you take us too!"