Lizbeth, the Orc Barbarian

Something pushes you away.

You fall on the floor, bumping it with your butt and you see her.

Two metres of muscles that would make a culturist look like a skinny teenager.

Boobs that look harder than steel, barely covered by a leather top.

A short mohawk of red hairs.

A mouth filled with tusks, opened in a warcry.

"WAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAGHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!"

The massive orc woman charges the dragon, wieldings a sword as big as her. The creature opens its mouth, showing a throat that is filled with hellish flames. But the sword is faster than the flames: before the dragon is able to attack, the greenskin changes the trajectory of her run and move before the teeth. The sword calls on the head of the dragon, slipping it in two.

The grow-up lizard falls on the floor. The girl puts her right foot on the splitted skull and raises her arms.

"Yez! I have done it! I am da bezt of my clan!"

She is… beautiful. You cannot stop looking at her. How can she be so sensual but so intimidating at the same time?

“Oi?”

She is a Goddess of the battle. Sensual and dangerous like a panther. Born to dominate men under her boots.

“Oi, lad?!”

What if she would… dominate you two? God knows what sensations could give you her iron thighs. Maybe you could slip your head between her thighs and…

“Oi, lad? You all right? You keep ztaring at me with your big puppy eyez without zaying a zingle word. Alzo…” She indicates your harden cook and licks her lips. "It zeemz that, after having killed that beazt, I will have to face another one now..."