The second floor of Gurk's Glop hosted a number of bedrooms, ostensibly for weary travelers, it was rare that much sleep went on behind closed doors. Locks were frowned upon, as there were unspoken rules of ettiquette regarding orgies and it was the height of bad manners to turn down an invitation or a request. But there was one door there to cater to those with a very particular taste for darker and more savage fare. Ominous, with upholstered velvet and leather diamond padding hammered into the heart of oak door, too thick for a hammer or a scream to break through when it was closed and bolted. Yet still it pulsed like a heart beat, a deep throbbing base shook it within the frame.<br/><br/>With the steady rhythm of a steam engine, the grogs laid out on the bartop rippled from the bass tremors, as if some vast beast were stomping on the floor above. It was so steady that soon, it simply became part of the background ambiance... until it suddenly stopped and left the air tingling from it's absence.<br/><br/>Deafening silence was the term for it.<br/><br/>The door slammed open suddenly as a dwarf stumbled out, with an almost haunted look in his eyes as he escaped. He sucked greedily at the air, cooler by far than the room he had just left. In a state of half dress, his wrists were red, as if he had been recently manacled. Sweat dripped from his beard as his lips trembled gratefully around the air, sucking it through his teeth as if it were a fine wine.<br/><br/>His "companion" stepped out behind him, the heels of her boots lending her a discreet four inches of heighth that she did NOT need. Slick with persperation and scented oils, she tainted the air with coconut, lime and sex. The half orc had the smooth skin of her softer parent stretched across a tall, toned frame. While her hair was most likely as bright as embers during the day, wet with sweat, it was a rich crimson, bound by a tight leather cuff.<br/><br/>The dwarf shivered as she ran her gloved fingers through his own sweaty locks affectionately. He seemed a stout warrior type, but he let out a meek groan as she clenched her fist and lifted his head so they could share a gaze. She barked something in Orcish at him, only releasing him as he nodded breathlessly. The orc gave him a soft pat on the cheek before descending. The bar's tapstress was already shuffling from behind the bar, playing nervously with her mustache with one hand while she rested a large silver goblet on her tray. The dwarf girl knew her order fairly well at this point, and she brought the small barrel of wine along with the goblet. The Heart Breaker was always "dehydrated" when she came out of her room. It took a lot of wine to keep the fire in her chest burning at its brightest!<br/><br/>Though her dwarf companion seemed somewhat crumpled and spent, the half orc seemed as worst, simply warmed up by the exertion as she took her place at one of the tables. It was only obvious after she sat down at the chair creaked, that the sturdier chair seemed out of place amongst the rest in the tavern. How many "pedestrian" chairs did she go through before they had found one that could take the punishment of her well toned ass?