As dawn broke, sunlight revealed an imposing castle perched on the edge of a cliff, its rear shielded by the sheer rock face. Despite its infamous inhabitants, the castle itself retained the majesty of its former rulers. The front wall—crafted entirely from black obsidian—loomed like the gateway to hell.
Yet inside, the contrast was stark. Marble pillars lined the main hall, trimmed with gold and purple. At the heart sat a massive throne, ten feet high and made of solid gold, with amethysts adorning its arms and legs. Plush purple cushions completed the decadent seat. It looked more like a royal capital than a bandit stronghold.
Laughter and chatter filled the air, echoing through the halls. Atop the golden throne sat a bear of a man—6'7" and nearly 350 pounds of brute muscle ready to rip from the cloth. His mere presence was enough to silence a room.
Gavin, the self-proclaimed Lord of Castle Ruin, leaned on one arm, dull eyes scanning his unruly men. Five patrols had gone missing. His lieutenants, ever the fools, kept sending out more without investigating why none had returned.
Frustrated, he shouted, "Shut the fuck up, you inbreeds!"
The hall fell silent. At his gesture, a group of ten barely clothed slaves was herded out of the room.
"What's the status of the patrols, Bard?" Gavin growled.
Bard stiffened. "Scouts found nothing solid. Every camp is a bloodbath. Bodies torn apart—it's like some wild animal's doing it."
"I don't care if it's the devil himself," Gavin said coldly. "Take thirty men. Find whoever's responsible, or your head's going on the gate."
A shiver went down Bards spine as he knew this was no time for games.
Gavin looked at the remaining bandits, then grinned. "Let's go visit our lovely ladies. I need to relax."
The hall erupted with laughter.
Far below, deep in the dungeon's darkest cell, a figure knelt—barely visible in the dim torchlight.
The silence was suffocating.
Chains rattled down the hail as the guard approached the cell. The guard unlocked the cell and stepped inside. "Time to earn your keep, scum. You've been playing hard to get, but that ends tonight."
The prisoner said nothing.
As he reached for her collar, a massive green hand grabbed his arm. Panic surged through him.
Her lips curled into a smile.
She pulled the his arm from its resting place. As the guard opened his mouth to scream, a green hand gripped his throat and snapped his neck. A sharp snap echoed. She dropped his lifeless body, retrieved the keys, and stood to her full height—seven feet of green-skinned muscle mommy.
"I will have revenge for my tribe… even if it kills me," she whispered.
At the tree line, Valon stared at the black walls of Castle Ruin.
Bandits lounged lazily atop the wall. Clearly, they'd grown too comfortable.
"No wonder the humans didn't bother reclaiming this place," he muttered. "It would cost too much."
"Terrick," Valon called.
The Death Knight dropped to one knee. "Yes, my lord."
"Go inform our guests they've overstayed their welcome in my home."
Valon raised an eyebrow. "Though I suppose I should thank them for keeping the place clean."
"I shall clear the rats out immediately, my lord."
Terrick stood and then sprinted toward the gate.