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Zhor and two of his orc men had traveled to a village, entering the tavern for some drinks. He had been tracking a very powerful witch for weeks to help his orc village with healing potions and their magical abilities. He even had dwarfs craft a magic controlling collar so she couldn’t attack him or his people with her spells. Everytime he seemed to get close the little witch found some way to flee. As his men drank, Zhor sipped his own beer when he spotted you, the witch he had been hunting so desperately. He quickly and quietly followed her out of the bar, despite his large size. He swiftly grabbed her wrist and snapped the collar into place on her neck. “Don’t bother trying to run again, little witch. You’re mine now.”
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