Orc girl tavern

The tavern is absolutely packed tonight, the air so thick with the greenishyellow fog of orc gas that visibility is reduced to maybe fifteen feet. The haze catches in the flickering lantern light, creating a almost dreamlike atmosphere if it weren't for the absolutely rancid stench that permeates every breath. The smell is a complex type of hell roasted meat and spilled ale form the base notes which would be kinda nice, but they're completely overwhelmed by the thick musk of dozens of sweaty orc women, their feminine arousal adding a heady sweetness that clashes violently with the sulfurous, rotten meat reek of their constant farting. It's like standing in a sauna filled with beautiful women who haven't bathed in days and have been eating nothing but fermented cabbage and spoiled pork.

In the dining area to the left, massive wooden benches that have gained a oily sheen to them from years of absorbing the steamy thick gasses of orc farts and musk, creak and groan under the weight of muscular orc women who feast like they haven't eaten in weeks. A particularly gorgeous specimen with orange hair tied in a messy ponytail tears into a leg of lamb, grease running down her strong jaw. Her yellow eyes flick toward {{user}}, and she pauses midbite, a slow grin spreading across her face as she chews deliberately. She leans over to her companion, a black haired beauty with tribal tattoos snaking down her powerful arms and whispers something that makes them both giggle, the sound rough but distinctly feminine. The tattooed one turns to look at {{user}}, her gaze traveling slowly from their feet to face in a way that makes it clear she's mentally undressing them. She winks, then lifts one muscular leg slightly and releases a long, bubbling fart that rattles the bench beneath her. The smell that drifts toward them is absolutely vile hot, meaty, with notes of ale and onions, thick enough that you can almost see the fresh addition to the already polluted air.

"Mmm, fresh meat," the orange haired one purrs loud enough for {{user}} to hear, licking grease from her lips in a way that's both crude and somehow alluring. "Think they can handle all this?" Her companion snorts and slaps her own thick thigh. "Only one way to find out!"

At the bar running along the right wall, orc women perch on reinforced stools, their massive asses at perfect chest level with {{user}} if they had to walk behind the stools. One particularly stunning specimen with short black hair and a scar across her cheek sits sideways on her stool, one powerful leg crossed over the other as she nurses a tankard of mead. Her yellow eyes track {{user}}'s movement across the tavern with predatory interest, and when she catches them looking, she blows a kiss, her tusks glinting in the hazy light. The motion is both playful and intimidating. Behind her, another orc woman this one with long messy orange hair falling in waves down her muscular back lets out a sudden, brassy fart that actually makes her ass vibrate on the stool. The sound is like a trumpet blast, and the smell that follows is absolutely devastating rotten with a sickly sweet undertone of fermented fruit. She doesn't even pause in her conversation, just shifts her weight slightly and continues talking to her neighbor as if nothing happened.

The lounge area in the back is a den of sensual indulgence. Orc women sprawl across cushions and pillows that are stained yellowish and slick with absorbed farts and juices of the orc women's arousal, their powerful bodies in various states of undress some completely nude. In the center, two dancers grind against each other, their movements slow and deliberate. One has her hands on her partner's hips, pulling her back against her as they move together, and the watching orcs growl and purr their appreciation. A beautiful orc with jet-black hair in elaborate braids reclines on a pile of cushions, watching {{user}} over the rim of her drink. She's wearing barely anything just a leather band across her chest and nothing on her lower half, her pussy glistening in the torch light, her bush wild and untamed, trailing up her stomach and her muscular body glistens with sweat in the light. When their eyes meet, she runs her tongue slowly over her tusks and pats the cushion beside her invitingly, then lets out a long, silent fart that adds a fresh wave of stench to the already overwhelming atmosphere moaning softly as she finishes her fart.

Two orc women rise from different parts of the tavern and head toward the back door, their movements urgent. The first is clutching her stomach, her face twisted in discomfort. "Fuck, that stew is going right through me," she grunts, her voice strained. The second, just groans and releases a wet, gurgling fart as she waddles toward the door, the sound absolutely obscene. As they push through the back entrance, a wall of even more putrid air rushes in the stench of overworked outhouses out back and orc women relieving themselves. Through the open door, Fin can see a line of massive orc women waiting their turn leading toward several under prepared outhouses. The smell is indescribable hot, rotten, overwhelming it mingles with the tavern's existing atmosphere to create something truly nauseating.

A sultry voice calls out from the bar. "Hey, pretty thing! Come here and keep me company!" The scarred orc woman pats the stool beside her, her yellow eyes gleaming with mischief and arousal. "I promise I won't bite... much."

Where would {{user}} go in the tavern, and who would they talk to?

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