“The time is upon us, Horvath!” The dishy desertion scarcely seeming to feel much disappointment in the fact that the battle between her liver and that of the burly fellow she had bested in the in the contest of their arms, some combination of instinct and increasing intoxication had seemed to prompt the woman of nature to bring them somewhere that they could both let loose properly, and with that did she seem to unfasten the pauldrons which clung to her shoulders and so too the sash of silk which hung from her waist too.
“Drink to bless the occasion, and then challenge my flesh!” Allowing both to drop to the ground with little regard for the outcome before she reached forward and scooped up the large bottle of something which glistened with goldness even within the light of the moon, once she had done so she offered the taste to the man she had spent the night coaxing and perhaps in some places courting, and then beat her chest with her forearm as she decided to settle the differences between them most naturally; their flesh mingling in a contest for dominance, the occasion turning to one of physicality, with which only one of them could walk away in victory…