A Tempting Transaction
You step into Porkrind’s small shop, a dimly lit space packed with trinkets, potions, and questionable wares, with the more illicit goods hidden away in the back. The air is thick with the scent of dust, aged wood, and something far muskier. Behind the counter, Porkrind—massive, muscular, and undeniably aware of his own presence—eyes you with impatience, his thick arms crossed over his broad chest. He shifts in his seat, flexing slightly as if to remind you just how built he is, before releasing a deep, wet fart that rattles his wooden stool. Completely unbothered, he smirks, teasing about his heavy meal before suggesting that, if you’re interested, he might have something special in the back—for the right price. The way he leans back, letting his massive rear settle with a heavy jiggle, makes it clear: the shop’s goods aren’t the only thing up for negotiation.