He dishonors me right to my face! The Rush spills from my eyes in blazing plumes of crimson as my blood roars white-hot and molten, scorching my veins with unstoppable fury. Without thought, I lunge, striking with brutal force. Somewhere behind my haze of battle lust, I hear the gasps and shrieks of the frightened females.
The veteran reacts well, blocking my attack with his forearm. But it’s like trying to stop a rockslide with twigs. His face contorts in agony as his wrist bracers crumple under the impact, bent and misshapen.
“I am no shorthair!” I roar, turning on the second warrior, with blue eyes that falter before my might.
He throws a blow toward my molten heart, but I swat it aside like a znat as my other hand snaps out to chop his neck. His eyes roll back as he collapses, gasping for the breath I’ve denied him.
A blur of movement catches my eye. I spin around just in time to see the last veteran charging with his claws drawn, escalating our conflict, so overcome with terror. He rushes in, but I’m faster. Before he’s in range, I drive a savage kick into his midriff. He crashes backward into a table, the sound of snapping wood and pained wheezes filling the hall like a symphony of victory.
I turn to the females, wide-eyed and cowering behind a table. “We’re leaving,” I state, my voice cutting through the lingering tension.
“Fucking hell,” Princesa mutters, hands trembling as she gulps from her tankard.
The inferno in my heart dims, leaving only a loathsome disappointment. Even three veteran warriors brought no challenge. These pathetic Draxxus warriors are the weakest of our kind. Despite Krogoth being their leader—I will break him as easily as I broke these cretins. Without his miracles he stands no chance against my strength.
I approach the one-eyed veteran, his arms limp and useless. To his credit, he meets my gaze without an ounce of fear.
“You carry shame,” I declare, extending a single claw. I grasp a handful of his silvery-gray hair, sawing through the clumps. I repeat the process with the other warriors, letting their shame be seen by all—as mine is.
“Come,” I command, glancing back at the females. Princesa seems determined to finish every drink on the table, while Sandra casts frantic glances around the dim room, a hand pressed to her chest. I activate my wrist console, requesting a glider to take us to Scarn immediately. It won’t be long before more warriors come—and if they bring an Elder... that will complicate things.
Sandra obeys, jogging toward me but carefully avoiding the fallen warriors.
“Hold on. I’m nearly finished,” Princesa says, between deep gulps. I reach for their chains, reattaching them to my belt and giving hers a sharp tug.
“Hey!” she snaps, spilling a mug as she’s dragged away from the table. “Such a rude prick!”
We emerge into the dark streets of Star City, lit only by neon lights and the soft purple glow of the moon.
“You’re not hurt, are you?” Sandra asks, her hands fluttering over my armor, searching for wounds that never existed.
“No,” I growl, irritated. I turn to see Princesa stumbling behind like a leaf caught in a storm.
This infuriating female!
“Oh, I’m so glad, Dracoth,” Sandra says, releasing a long breath. “I’d be sad if anything happened to you.”
I barely hear her, rushing back to scoop the drunk Princesa off the ground, throwing her over my shoulder like a borack calf.
“Fuck’s sake, Dracoth!” she thumps weakly against my armor. “I wasn’t even doing anything... too naughty!” She giggles, her laughter slurring into soft, drunken murmurs. “Oh, pretty,” Princesa marvels, stopping her feeble strikes, distracted by the black, purple-tinted night sky.
I place my hand on Sandra’s back, urging her forward toward the meat markets. The narrow streets are quiet, filled only with the rowdy, distant din of drinking dens and the calls from lewd alien females in numerous pleasure houses, lighting up the alleyways like stars in a sea of hazy purple.
Some give us strange looks as Princesa resumes her drunken wiggling and slurred protests, her inebriation growing worse with every footstep. My stern glare soon averts the cowards’ eyes—none dare challenge me.
“Where are we going?” Sandra asks, her eyes darting nervously, betraying her fear, startled by every small noise or sight.
“Scarn,” I growl, driving her forward, savoring her petite softness against my hand.
“Probably going to… lock us in a… fucking cage again,” Princesa complains bitterly, her squirming intensifying. “HELP! SOMEONE HELP! WE’RE ENSLAVED BY… THE HOLE-IN-THE-GROUND CLAN!” Her shrill voice wrinkles my brow and echoes through the narrow alleyways.
“Shut up, Lexie!” Sandra snaps over her shoulder, glaring at Princesa’s bobbing backside. I shift the maddening female around, covering her mouth and most of her head with my hand. Her muffled protests are a slight improvement.
“Wait!” Sandra halts just as we turn a corner, her voice tight with concern. “Two metal ones are coming. Should we hide?” She looks up at me, wide-eyed.
“No,” I grumble. The idea is an anathema to my molten soul. Instead, I’ll use Princesa’s inane nonsense to draw them in like znats to feces.
I release my grip from the spitting hydralith. “HELP! PLEASE! HE’S SO BORING!” Princesa shrieks on cue.
