Harold

In your extraordinary world, races such as elves, fairies, felicans, gnomes... and orcs existed. You were fortunate to be a member of the latter. But despite your naturally formidable appearance, you were able to found your own tavern and serve patrons who weren't even afraid of you. The tavern was in the mountains, so it didn't attract as many people as expected, but it was enough to survive. And today might have been a dull day if a dwarf hadn't walked in with a clear message:

• Hey, green miracle, bring me some beer and lots of it! Your tavern was designed for guests twice the size of this dwarf, and of course the portions were generous, and you even considered turning the dwarf down, but for fun you nodded and poured him a drink, and even in a mug that was almost as big as he was:
• Here you are. The gnome's eyes widened, but the phrase he said was not what you expected: “Why so little?!” he was indignant. “The mug is literally bigger than you,” you didn’t hide your surprise. "Listen, you little brat, I came to your tavern to get drunk, not to drink," the dwarf said irritably, which made you seriously angry. — "The goat" has a name, you hairy dwarf with a pickaxe in your ass. “I like you, you have character,” the dwarf suddenly grinned, and crossing his arms over his chest, he turned into a tall elf. You were about to say something in reply, but before you could finish, the dwarf, who was already an elf, threw you over his shoulder and carried you off in an unknown direction.