A roar, a call, a summons, the pale woman who was currently(cough cough at Zay and Naya) the only woman in his heart asking for battle. The man jerks up from his languid lounging position, surprise lurking in his eyes. And then, as fear flashes briefly, the last emotion shown in pride. Such pride for his wife who usually did not fight, who avoided violence. For she was taking up arms against the woman who had wronged him at the pride claim. Defending his honor with her own form. Sure he worried for her, in fact, he was terrified for her. However he also knew she needed to stand on her own two feet. Knew she needed this despite his feelings of wanting to hoard her and keep her safe along with the unborn children.

Still it had him moving. He is on the far side of the hollow from the pit, his lope quick, but measured so he did not tire too much. Just in case he had to step in and defend his pale lady from interlopers. Like the male he had so thoroughly destroyed. If anyone tried to interfere he would very much protect her and her challenger with extreme predjudice.

As he neared his gait did speed up. But not because he wished to see the fight(not that he didn't want to) but because he caught the scent of his son. Zagan who was so enamored with his adoptive mother. If he jumped in... well it could end badly for all involved.

Hulking beast surged over the rim, trusting his knowledge of the place from earlier explorations to keep his footing sound. Despite his size, he is surprisingly agile for his bulk. Rocks do skid down from where he has landed but he has left the spot before he could topple. Down he heads, his hulking form finally lurching to an abrupt stop hopefully directly before his boy. "Stand down"he hissed to his boy. Meeting gaze to explain he is not mad, but it is not time to interfere. It is Pistis's fight and she needed to see it through. "Let her show the bitch what is what" he continues, his voice low, calm. Then, he passes in front of his son, settling on his haunches beside the younger Casimir. Close to the boy so if his temper got the better of him he could stop him before he charged. Vermier and his garbled bull shit was rather pointed ignored, the burning gaze settling on the pale form of his wife. Bolstering her with the intensity, letting her know that he saw and approved and wished his wife to give the idiot woman hell.
""

Art and og code by Kairi, Code modified by Saph

KNEEL TO THE CROWN       The blows were fast and fierce between the two lionesses. He couldn't find a way in. Wait. Maybe there was one. If he could just...       The form of his father appeared as if from thin air. The hiss to stand down brought a rumbling growl from the clay-clad colossus. Stand down? Now? When... now that his focus was not so entirely on the two combatants, Zagan noticed that others had arrived. And one, the sod with an awfully sore jaw, spewed some kind of slurred insult at him. He couldn't really understand it, but he also didn't care. Normally, he'd have engaged the idiot without a second thought. Right now, with Pistis in danger, there was no reaction.       The Casimir let his body relax as much as he could. Which is to say he was no longer leaning forward and looking for an opening to get into the fight--it was hard to relax completely when someone you cared about was in battle. But he tried. Gwyn was right. Pistis, soft as he'd judged her to be, could hold her own. Taking a deep breath, Zagan intentionally sat his rear on the ground next to his father. He would watch with worried eyes, the citrine gem on the vines at his chest beating in time with his heart. And he would lean, ever so slightly, against Gwyn for comfort. 228 words | @Vermier, @Camelia, @Kimagure, @Gwyn STAND IN THE SUN hail to the king

The younger shezheiss cascssmnar huddled behind the form of an older one. Lamb under glass. Vermier, puffed up with his own arrogance, saw only fear from the one and foolishness from the other. What sort of gazelle sat down while it knew a lion was watching? Darwin would be disappointed in him, but Ambrosine would not be disappointed in her brother. Vermier slowed his trot just enough to gather his balance, keeping his head low and now tensing his neck with glee, all the brown and lavender fibers of his mane frothing out to make him look, in his own estimation, like the supreme king of the jungle. His eyes narrowed and he set his ears back. He had been aiming to approach the yearling (now the pair) from the front, ergo he was still attempting to approach from the front. He aimed to slam into the adult @Gwyn with his arms wide, trying to grapple his left paw over the right side of Gwyn's neck while his right paw simultaneously tried to slash downward along the front of Gwyn's left upper arm. Vermier's claws were extended out, arrayed daggers, greedily hungering where his wounded jaws would not. At least not yet. His fangs were bared in ready self-defense, prepared to strike if necessary, but insofar as he considered this a fun exhibition he didn't want to worsen his own wounds just yet.

Vermier vs. Gwyn
Dominance

Round 1/3
Hits:

Rolling 5d20: 5 + 12 + 19 + 2 + 17

Dodges:

Rolling 5d20: 9 + 14 + 4 + 10 + 16

KNEEL TO THE CROWN       Good grief the bitch-mother and crazy-father's family were literally bonkers. Like. Bordering on 'they should all be killed because they are a legitimate threat to public safety.' And they were just failing left and right. This younger male is the one who lost so badly to Diuris for the Lagoon. The bitch-mother was getting her ass handed to her by Pistis. The crazy-father had lost horridly to Gwyn. Yet the father and this male both came back for more. They must have something short circuiting in those noodles of theirs. The father he could partly understand--he had his brains rattled good by Gwyn--but this one...? Yeah, no clue.       Sitting on the left side of Gwyn, Zagan raised a brow as the male came directly at them. With a swift kick he was on his feet, ears back and fangs bared. But the attack was focused on Gwyn. He had to at least admit that going for the stronger opponent was a smart move, even if the entire business of starting a fight when still injured was stupid as fuck. Zagan knew Gwyn would have no problem handling this imbecile from the front. So he took a few steps to his left, swinging his rear end around, so that he was now perpendicular to the male's right side.       As the male was in his attack on Gwyn, Zagan lunged low. Claws on rear paws came out, affording traction as muscles uncoiled and sent the Casimir ahead. Forelimbs were extended, the left out to catch the ground for balance, the right aiming to slip behind the right ankle of the male and pull it in, trying to hook claws to aid in that effort. And Zagan's maw opened wide, hoping to clamp down on the back right leg of the male.       As fun as it might be, he wasn't interested in maiming or killing this fool. His goal was to take support out from under the male, so that Gwyn could capitalize on it and toss the dumbass into the dirt and end the scuffle. Though... if his claws or fangs pierced skin, so be it. The guy was asking for an ass-kicking. Let him get what he deserved.       Ah, but alas. Surely there would be someone else who also wrongly believed that the Casimir were beating up on innocents. So Zagan kept his senses tuned to the others around them, and one eye on the fight between the bitch-mother and Pistis. He would truly rather to be watching to ensure Pistis was okay than fighting this moron. 426 words | @Gwyn, @Vermier Zagan & Gwyn vs. Vermier for dominance Round 1/3 Hits: Rolling 5d20: 20 + 15 + 4 + 2 + 10 Dodges: Rolling 2d20: 3 + 7 STAND IN THE SUN hail to the king

It didn’t matter where in the world they were, lions were drawn to bloodshed like flies to a rotting carcass. Amra followed the scents of her family, then the scents of blood and gore, to the Pit, somewhat familiar to the girl although still not a place she would like to frequent of her own accord.
Upon arrival it would appear that, yet again, her family was embroiled in mass fights. Ears folded to the sides of her head, unhappy that they were fighting again, but understanding the need for it. They had been dishonoured, and they would not stand for it. And although Amra was tagged as the pride her family fought, she was not on their side at all.
As Amra paused atop the lip of the bowl, she surveyed the scene below with but a moment’s pause. Ambrosine, locked in battle with the woman Amra knew as Pistis, Gwyn’s wife. Zagan, the brash, ballsy youth that had instigated the shit storm at the Lagoon, cowering behind Gwyn, who was now being attacked by Vermier. The various spectators arrayed around the outside of the arena were ignored by the girl, who figured them inconsequential for the current situation.
Unfortunately, although Vermier was able to hold his own against another adult, he was beset upon by the brash youth that Amra had already taken a disliking to.
Without giving herself a second to think about what she was doing, Amra was leaping down the steps, her toes spread to evenly distribute her balance each time she landed, and made a beeline for Zagan’s left side, coming from the same direction as Vermier to approach the opposing duo from what had previously been known as the front. Head was lowered and limbs spread evenly for balance as the girl squinted eyes half shut against the pain she was sure to feel shortly, and opened jaws to attempt to latch onto the left side of the young male’s face, attempting to secure a grip around his cheek bone and eye socket area. At the same time her right paw lifted to attempt to throw up and over his back, attempting to latch onto his spine. Remaining legs spread for balance upon the earth, Amra hoped against all hope that her being here would turn the tide for the better for her family.
She had never fought a proper day in her life, now it would be a trial by fire to defend her family.

Amra vs Zagan
For dominance and defence of Vermier
Round 1/3

Hits:

Rolling 4d20: 9 + 4 + 3 + 8

Dodges:

Rolling 4d20: 18 + 6 + 20 + 1

His son listened to reason, much to his relief(and mild surprise). Knew the boy would respect his mother's wish to hold her own, to defend their honor. The man, before tearing his gaze away let a touch of pride, a touch of the fear he was feeling seep out to his son. So that he knew that the brute was also struggling with the paws off, but was proud of them both. His son then leaned against him and he remained steadfast, not turning him away despite the public atmosphere. He needed it as much at his son, granted, he didn't wish to show it aside from being a bulk which his boy could lean on.

Despite their personal drama the man is not unaware of the vultures gathering, the french man spewing his spittle at them. Notes as his gait slows, turns towards them both. Weight shifts, arse rising, his form now no longer sitting but crouched low over his haunches. Claws remove themselves from their sheaths, forequarters lowering as he bends a touch at the elbows. His left forelimb shifts slightly nudging Zagan. Not that the boy needed it, per say, but all the same. It was better to have some warning than none at all. Eyes narrow, jaws begin to gape, ears flattening as the other male comes for him, for them both.

His boy is ready and so is he. There is a good reason why the man has been training those he cared for to fight from a young age. Gwyn was no stranger to battle and some took offense to him for various reasons, so those who were kin learned the song and dance of war. So while Zagan goes for the mans right side, Gwyn deals with the fool head on. Attacking with a broken jaw was foolish; Gwyn's damage from this one's brother in law was almost already healed. It made that broken mouth a target to the brute; he was not one to ever play fair.

So as the male lunged at him, Gwyn lunged back, his hind legs already loaded like springboards. Jaws gaped wider still, their gape aiming for the other's snarling face. To wrap around the frenchmans broken muzzle and end the fight then and there. To grip and yank to verm's left, his right. His own forelimbs lifted off the ground momentarily, his left hand resettling on the earth to thrust claws into the dirt. Accepting the hit to his left side, the claws causing moderate gashes that lightened to shallow scrapes atop his upper leg well above his wrist. His own movement worsened the initial impact of claws, but cut the full length of the attack short. Gwyn's right limb continues to rise, swinging up and out from the males own left forelimb. The change in positions led to vermier's neck strike landing across the meat of his his shoulder, the claws digging in and not traveling. His own paw swings in now, toward's Vermier's right, to barrel into the frenchman's shoulder. Hoping the momentum from his son's attack and his own simultaneous attacks would result in the man crashing to the ground and onto his right side. His chest had been moving forward at the same time as his limbs and jaws, the close quarters likely leading to the keel of his own breast slamming into the male with his paw and jaws. A devastating, brutal attack to show the lunatic his place.

He was too busy to see Amra's assult upon his boy thus far, but, there would be reckoning to be had when he saw it. A traitor to her pride, she would make a fine example to show other's not to cross them. That and his unforgotten concern for his wife, meant he wasn't going to see it right away. Still though, much reckoning to be had.

Gwyn + Zagan Vs Vermier + Amra
For Dominance( aka stop being a pissbaby, fear the Casimir men, The fuck amra?)
Round 1 of 3
Hits:

Rolling 6d20: 5 + 17 + 20 + 3 + 9 + 2

Dodges:

Rolling 4d20: 4 + 9 + 16 + 10

Art and og code by Kairi, Code modified by Saph


@Pistis @Zagan @Amra @Vermier

The large woman tries to stop herself from colliding, but fails, her chest blossoming in a large bruise beneath her thick fur. She hisses slightly, but does not let the feeling plague her for long. But she was satisfied with her claws in the woman’s skin attempting to keep her grip on the side, to cause further damage, if possible. Suddenly her opponent is aiming for her jaw, and she allows it to happen, but it may shift as she, tries to sink her own teeth into the left side of the woman’s forehead. It may be clear to other’s she was a novice at this sport, but she made sure to make every move with confidence. Not leaving room for her own self doubt.

In the background, she could hear yelling and scuffling of others. Her son and husband among them, but she paid no mind. Knowing they could handle themselves, and knowing she needed to stay in the moment. She attempted to use her grip on the woman (if she had any at all) to jerk her own head to the right, so that it may crash harshly into the other’s All the while keeping in mind this would all soon come to a close. Trying not to do anything too severe, if only for the sake of any future friendships with the woman.

@Ambrosine vs. @Pistis
for dominance
2 of 3
Hits:

Rolling 5d20: 3 + 4 + 20 + 10 + 15

Dodges:

Rolling 4d20: 16 + 8 + 1 + 19

we get colder... as we grow older

manip by Rowan | code by twesh

There was always something going on nowadays, it seemed. A fleeting sense of exasperation was overwhelmed by excitement when a call emanated from the pit. Perhaps she should be more concerned with the tenuous peace that hung precariously over Maua’s island paradise. If anyone were to ask her outright, of course she would say she was concerned with maintaining peace, but in her unspoken opinion, she figured there was a reason beyond altruism that inspired Maua to invite these high-strung, cutthroat, presumptuous refugees to their home. Maybe, just maybe, Maua was like Tuathal, and had simply been bored with the island’s peace, and certainly these refugees were anything but boring.

Still, the young woman trailed behind the other curious individuals, noting foreigners and natives alike, doing her best to appear dubious and circumspect rather than excited and burning with anticipation for the fight that was surely underway. Her caution allowed only for her to be late and miss any verbal exchanges that may have occurred prior to the catfights that had broken out. Surprised, she surveyed those who fought, noting that some of their silhouettes were familiar to her – if only by sight alone. The mahogany lioness found a seat in the stadium that offered a decent view, her ears pressed forward and muted indigo eyes darting from spar to spar as her lips pressed firmly together to keep herself from smirking like an idiot.

Tua is observing from a distance

the sound of violence draws her near, and not in an endearing or vivacious way. rather, it was concern and confusion that grips at the woman’s chest, eyes fluttering with suspicion as she draws towards the pit. for her and her people, it was a place seldom used for senseless carnage — violence always had a purpose, a true purpose, and nymeria stood steadfast in that belief. and so, when she arrives on the edge of the stone arena, not far behind @Tuathla, she is shocked by what she sees spurring down below.

blood, so much blood — and so much hatred that it nearly seethed from the pores of these foreigners. it was all enough to make her fur bristle and her lips part in a small, yet audible, gasp of disbelief, for she did not understand what had acted as a catalyst for this level of chaos. the healer in nymeria prevents her from straying very far, that, and the fact that there might be something worth learning. displeased and yet returning to her smooth, neutral demeanour, the woman would take a seat next to her kin and observe as the scene below them unfolding.

nymeria is observing.

Lord almighty, what was going on in the pit? He'd heard the scream for Ambrosine from a voice he only vaguely recognized when it was raised that high, but by the time he got there both Gwyn and his son were also in battle. Damn, he wished he'd gotten there a little earlier to also get in on it, but he'd have to wait on the sidelines nearby, watching the scuffle. Not that this displeased him, because this was what he usually did it seemed like, but it would have been nice to get some blood on his teeth. Look, they clearly didn't need his help anyway.