Prized Trophy (Gordian Knot & Anna)

[Gordian Knot]

The Lair, as it was known among its inhabitants, was a tightly kept secret. A labyrinthine cave system, secured by multiple hidden entrances, dead ends and traps, hidden between the blurry borders of the Kingdom of Valdoria and the Principality of Hressia, it housed several dozens of monsters of all kind of species. The group, led by the self-proclaimed 'king', seemed to have one goal — to rip and shred its way through the human countries. Due to the symbol the inhuman faction left in every pillaged town and village, they known as 'The Claws' among the local lords.

Deep in the caves of The Lair, the gnoll guard's ear flicked, as it picked up the faintest echo of incoming footsteps. One flick more and he was certain who was coming. Before seeing the faintest glimpse of the owner of those heavy steps, he straightened his back, gripped the spear at his side tighter, and waited. The rhythmic steps grew louder and louder, and in the guard's eyes, even the flames of the oil lamps in the corridor flickered with each stomp. Soon enough, the corridor grew darker as an enormous silhouette came from behind the bend. As always, a single glance at the brawny figure reminded the gnoll of the battered body of his old chief who dared to stand against it — something he and his brothers quickly learned to never attempt. As the gigantic lizardfolk came closer, his azure scales shimmered in the dim light, barely concealed by his loincloth and the charms hanging from his neck. Many of the scales were warped or missing from the scars of past conquests. In one clawed hand, he carried a ginormous hammer that few could even lift two-handed; the other kept a firm hold on a woman hoisted over his shoulder. Another so called 'hunter' sent to cut him down. Another failure. Surprisingly, this one was alive and conscious, although dazed.

"Hail, King Vrex!" The gnoll proclaimed, raising his head high to meet the king's visage.

"Hail," the king replied in the same rumbling snarl he responded to all the other sentries and subjects he'd passed on his way. "I shall not be disturbed." He bucked the shoulder carrying the groaning huntress, indicating the reason.

"Yes, king!" The guard stepped aside and opened the jury-rigged gate to king's private chamber. Inside, the lamps were already burning, lighted by servants the moment Vrex set a single foot in to The Lair. Right in front of the entrance was a raised oaken throne. Big and sturdy enough to support the monstrous monarch, with a line of discolored furs instead of a red carpet leading to it. Behind it, on the cave's wall, hanged an improvised banner. Torn, rather than cut, from a much larger roll of crimson cloth, had six lines painted with black tar — three angled parallel claw marks, cut nearly perpendicular by another three; a simple symbol of his growing army. The rest of the walls were adorned with trophies, where grim prizes had equal value to looted riches — a dozen or so rings strung together on a cord hanged between a battered helmet and a bent sword. Deeper, in a corner alcove separated from the main room by a heavy curtain, was a haphazard pile of furs, blankets, and pillows — an impromptu bed chamber. In the kingdom, such furnishing wouldn't be worthy of even a lowly baron, but among the so-called monsters, they were luxuries few could even dream about.

As Vrex stepped inside, he dropped his captive on the trail of furs before the entrance and continued forward, thick tail trailing behind him. His hammer let out a loud THUNK as he let it rest against the side of his throne before taking a seat himself and taking a look at the dazed woman before him. Just a couple hours ago, he stepped out of The Lair to check a site for an ambush, only to be ambushed himself. His assailant was full of herself and her own skills — many were in the past, but he had to admit that she was good. Very good. Few, if any, of his men could've stood their ground against her in a single combat. That wasn't good enough for Vrex though. It took some time, but a single well landed hit of his hammer left her weapon shattered and her reeling into a nearby tree, knocking both air from her lungs and sense from her mind.

In any other case, he'd have taken a trophy from her and finished her then and there. However, after taking a closer look at her features, he decided he had other plans for the huntress. No. No longer a huntress. Just another prize.

"Silence." The hissing gravel of his voice cut off her half-conscious ramblings. "You fought and lost, you are alive by my will alone. You're nothing more but my possession now. You belong to King Vrex. Now — KNEEL and state your name, lest you want me to give you one." Looking down from his throne, eyes full of cold dominance, he gave the first of many orders she'd receive from him in her new life.

 

[Anna]

This wasn’t how things were supposed to go.

It was all Mikayla could think as she wheezed for breath, gasping for the air that had been so brutally knocked from her lungs as she dangled uselessly over the beast-man’s shoulder, her body limp and her mind reeling. She didn’t lose - especially not to some mindless, dim-witted creature. She had been told about the rumors of some ‘leader’ among the beasts, uniting the various monstrous races and posing an actual threat to the kingdom. As one of the most successful hunters, it was natural that Mikayla would be hand-picked for the job. She was a merciless killer, earning her the nickname of Bloodreaver, so it was a no-brainer that she would be sent to deal with this overgrown lizard alone.

For a week, she stalked the territory of the beast-men. She lurked and watched, waiting and watching, listening in as the lesser of the beastlings gave up precious information during banter they believed to be private. She could have reported back with the information she had managed to gather, learning about a plan to seek out a good spot to ambush some human soldiers, but she wasn’t being paid as a scout. She was here to hunt, and hunt she would. She got into the mindset of the enemy, seeking out a spot where she would choose to ambush human soldiers if she were them, and thankfully, it seemed to pay off.

She was patient, and soon enough, her target was in view. He was big, wielding a hammer, and he looked strong - but she was fast, and was confident in her footwork and dexterity. He was just another brutish, brain-dead animal that needed slaying…

… or, at least, that had been her assumption.

She underestimated him, finding him much more agile than he looked, which was a dangerous combination with his nightmarish strength. Her lack of planning resulted in her sword smashed to pieces, and her body rag dolled against the base of a tree, where she would have died. If not for the monster-king seeing something else in her. A purpose for keeping her alive.

The trek to the lair was a blur to the huntress, his ears ringing and her vision swimming. It didn’t get a lot better when she was unceremoniously dumped onto the floor, opening her eyes and groaning on impact, her hand instinctively moving to her side to feel her battered ribcage. She was only alive because her sword had eaten most of the power behind the hammer’s blow, and upon a quick inspection through her leather armor, she didn’t think she had any broken ribs. Fractured? Maybe. Bruised? Without a doubt.

With her hand pressed to her side, her free hand groped the ground, pushing against it to lift her to her hands and knees, despite the fact that she wouldn’t quite see straight. She didn't need to see perfectly, though, to be able to see through the blur and make out the hulking blue beast as he moved throughout the chamber, setting his hammer against the wall before seating himself in what looked to be something akin to a throne.

“Tch. You idiot, you think I’m no longer a threat?” She growled under her ragged breath, wincing through the pain as, slowly, teetering on her feet, she found her footing, her long red hair cascading down her back like stands of crimson silk, matching the gold trimmed cloak that hung from her shoulders. The young woman glowered at him as she shuffled closer, growling at his ‘demand’ and offering a smirk through her grimaces.

“I live by your will? Nah. You just got a lucky shot in.” She disputed, shaking her head to try and clear her vision as she withdrew a thin, curved dagger from a harness at her back, which had been hidden by her cloak. She knew his hide was thick, but she had seen that he was missing a few scales. She figured those were weak points that she could penetrate easier… just as soon as her legs stopped wobbling.

“I think I’ll stand, thanks. But I suppose it’s only courteous to share the name of the hunter who will be wearing your pelt soon, lizard.” She sneered, skillfully flipping the dagger in her hand, holding it now so that the blade was facing the ground, making it easier for her to stab downward as she took another step toward him.

“I am Mikayla the Bloodreaver. I’d tell you to remember it, but you won’t really be alive long enough to worry about straining that little brain of yours.”

 

[Gordian Knot]

The impudence of her actions was met with a stare of a coldblooded reptile. Her defiance, insults, even threats, equaled to a nothing but a hike of his scaly eyebrow. While he lacked the authority and eloquence of human royalty, he understood one crucial aspect of holding to power likely far better than any king or queen on their velvet thrones — obedience. Without obedience, like a brick wall without mortar, all he built would crumble.

And nothing should be more obedient than his personal possession.

"I'm not a lizard." He raised from his throne, towering over the impertinent woman. "I'm King Vrex of The Claws, and you'll refer to me as such." His voice, despite its snarling nature, was still low and collected. He stepped down from his throne and moved forward to meet his would-be assassin, unwary of her dagger. He doubted that little thing could even put a dent in his scales, much less so when handled by somebody who could barely stand straight.

"I'll repeat, so it gets to your little head. You're mine. You tried to kill me. You failed. I've given you a second chance at life, something I don't do lightly. All I ask of you now is obedience." Without regard for the weapon brandished at him and with speed unexpected of someone of his size, he reached for her throat, which quickly drowned in the sea of claws that was his grasp. Had he given a pinch more of his strength, her neck would snap like a dry twig. But he wouldn't do that — why damage his property?

"I said, kneel." He began pushing down, bringing the woman to the floor. "I'll tell you something to remember too, Mikayla," he lowered himself down dangerously close to her face with a predatory grin, "disobedience brings punishment."

In that intimate distance between them, he once again took a closer look at her features. The burning crimson hair, the shining green eyes, the sharp features... He confirmed the suspicions she sparked back when they were fighting for their lives — she'd make a fine addition to his hoard. Maybe even had a potential to become a finest jewel of them all — the rough edges just needed some polishing.

"Now," he released his grip, crossed his arms and looked down on her expectantly, "say my name... or suffer the consequences."