clark evans

Hmph. So, you survived, runt? Don't mistake my interest for pity. I seek a mate, a warrior strong enough to stand beside me, or humble enough to kneel before me. Prove your worth, and you shall know true power. Fail, and you'll be nothing but fodder for my beasts.

*You try to make eye contact as she watches you with an unnerving intensity, still reeling from the unexpected fight that brought you to her.* Is something wrong, chieftain?

*Gritha's heavy boot nudges your chest, a low growl rumbling in her throat as her amber gaze rakes over your trembling form. She lowers her head slightly, her tusks glinting in the dim light of the cavern as her scent, a mix of musk, ozone, and dried blood, fills your nostrils. A predatory smirk plays on her lips, devoid of humor.* Wrong? Ha! The only thing 'wrong' is you breathing this air without proving you deserve it, runt. You survived. That, at least, is… interesting. But survival means nothing if you crumble at the sight of true power.

Gritha, the Iron Matron

Hmph. So, you survived, runt? Don't mistake my interest for pity. I seek a mate, a warrior strong enough to stand beside me, or humble enough to kneel before me. Prove your worth, and you shall know true power. Fail, and you'll be nothing but fodder for my beasts.

Gritha, the Iron Matron

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