~ Hubert is attempting to remain hidden ~

Even up here, the shadows have eyes.

Hubert had been on his way here even before the challenging roar had sounded, though he hadn't quite realized it to begin with. He'd been scouting around the prairie with the vague idea of satisfying some leftover curiosities about the Plains' pride's recent change of leadership, when he'd caught a faint whiff of Rusalka's scent. While it wasn't like he cared where that rowdy girl spent her time or anything, the Prince did find it a bit curious that the traces seemed to be pointing towards the mountains.

It's as good an excuse as any to take a peek at Summit's defenses.

Though the call for a crown seemed to suggest that he would've had an excuse either way. He loses Rusalka's trail around the territory's outskirts, an unlucky occurrence he accepts with a shrug, before he shifted attention to rubbing his ebony pelt against the cold snow and scattered pine needles to cloak his own cologne beneath the land's sharp, crisp scent. He has no intention of losing the element of surprise before he made it to the center of the action. This whole thing gave him the perfect opportunity, after all...

He skulks his way towards the tense gathering, sliding his narrow frame in a crevice between two conveniently place boulders so that he might observe without being seen. There is shouting already - a pale Ecrosian man speaks of the Rike and the Sigrun before he is attacked by an inky male, and Hubert draws in a quick breath. So this is a look at the feud he'd heard so many vicious stories about. Was the challenger a Rike then?

He watches everything unfold with narrow eyes - the Summit Queen throwing herself into battle against a smirking challenger, the tension between Vater and the Oasis King, and there-! There she is - @Isla ♔, charging at a crimson pridemate of his. The sight of her draws a low snarl to his lips, but he doesn't make a move, not yet. He'll await the perfect opportunity to exact his revenge against the Heiress. This battle is sure to weaken her.

Oh look, there was @Rusalka. Falling out of a tree and faceplanting against the hard ground.

Pfft!

Should he go over to check on her? Eh, Vater was already over there, it was probably fine.

+10 Practice speed or stealth (x2)
+10 Practice covering your scent (x2)
+10 Gather information about a character (x2)

ART + CODE By Dee

Her hunt is interrupted by the sound of war. It's with a huff that Myra turns her paws towards the mountain peaks, her reptilian eyes glittering with vague irritation and her long tail lashing behind her. The climb is an arduous one, and the desert huntress simply isn't built to tolerate the biting cold that sinks into her short fur or the thinness of the air in her lungs. Why anyone would want to claim this harsh climate, she can't fathom to guess. But she'll endure it all for now. If she's called upon to sink her teeth into a different sort of prey today, she expects she'll warm up soon enough anyway.

She arrives as the sounds of colliding bodies and clashing claws ring out into the cool air, her own lip curling as she takes in all of those who were already there. It's a grey-and-white male that she does not that's challenging for the Summit Queen for her crown this time. Amidst the crowd there are familiar names going back and forth, before the tension spills into bloodshed all at once. The Rike and the Sigrun...perhaps that feud would never reach an end.

Alaric is already there, just as she'd expected. His face is not the only recognizable one in the crowd, however. The sight of Scorpius draws a low huff to her lips, her eyes narrowing sharply. Ronin too, is a beast that she remembers distantly - but if she isn't mistaken, it seems that some things must've changed rather drastically. The one to draw her attention and hold it longest, however, is the hulking bronze form of @Aquila.

She draws nearer to the once-King in a manner that's not quite nonchalant, ostensibly to offer Astarte some moral support while being besieged by a warrioress of the Summit, but it is Aquila that Myra circles around with flattened ears and a lowered skull. Not unlike a hyena skulking towards a carcass. "You shouldn't make threats you don't have the resolve to carry out." She drawls out past gleaming fangs, her blue eyes hard with challenge.

She's not forgotten how the Vermeda brute had taunted her and the Mire the last time they'd crossed paths. It's so very satisfying to turn the tables today.

ART COPYRIGHT IRISH

She had begun to dread the sound of a challenge on the wind. Sedona, fledgling healer she was, was quickly becoming acquainted with the ways of Amaryllis once more. It seemed that Scorpius returned home bruised and bloodied more days than not, though his answers as to where he had been never quite satisfied the lioness. On that day, she would follow him. On that day, she would know for sure what had befallen her wishing, warring boy.

The day's travels carried her to the slopes of a pride she had yet to encounter, rocky and treacherous as she made the ascent. She knew enough to take advantage of what foreign plants she could gather in a terrain she otherwise avoided: buchu for digestion, antibacterial oil palm, wild mango for fevers. Bending to pluck some leaves, it seemed that buchu would be most readily found on that trek. She took in what prints she could assess along her way, noting the faint outlines of what appeared to be goat's hooves amid the dust and slow of the rocky trails. Still, it seemed unlikely that she could get away with hunting out of another pride's territory. She twitched her whiskers at the thought.

The sound of distant chatter clued Sedona in that she was nearing the scene. She hurried her small strides, taking in the scents of the gathering from around the leaves she held gingerly between her teeth. When her eyes finally latched upon the one she was searching for, she darted between the bodies of strangers until she could try and place herself firmly at Scorpius's unoccupied side, attempting to press quietly into his flank as he made plans for violence she remained blissfully ignorant of.

"¿Quién es esta vez?" Who's it this time? She murmured lowly, glancing between the warring parties with growing curiosity.

---

|| october y9 | two years | vague pride (AO?) | at illyria summit | @Scorpius ||
+10 - Collect herbs (march double XP)
+10 - Attend a spar or challenge to assess the wounds (march double XP)

+10 - Study and track footprints (march double XP)

image by moogle/code by saph

"We have to stop meeting like this," goaded Bruno, revealing himself from behind that very same rocky outcropping. His eyes glistened a vibrant, mischievous jade, his mouth pressed into a smirk that creased around his peeking fangs. He did not waste another moment before attempting to duck behind his rival's looking point, trying to sit next to the larger lion as if reunited with an old friend. In many ways, he was – the closest thing Bruno had to one, anyway.

He had come to show his face on Ecrosia's behalf, of course, and to take advantage of the opportunity to learn more about the territory of perhaps their greatest enemy pride. But, did that mean he could not have any fun now that he had arrived? The prince glanced to his side, noting that from that angle, he could not tell that Tai had lost half of his vision.

"Is this where you went off to?" He questioned in a stage whisper as the fights before them waged on. "Too dry for my tastes."

---

|| october y9 | two years | EM royalty | at illyria summit | @Tai ||_{BG — ART — CODE}

@Isla ♔ vs @Astarte FOR Major Maim
— FIGHT TIMERS PAUSED —

This fight and its timers are currently paused pending a Fight Club discussion and review. All other posting can continue to happen in this thread without issue.

Another post will be made to signal the unpausing of the fight timers, at which time the fight can continue.

This was simply how things went, wasn't it? Aarani joined a pride and then Aarani brought her curse to the lands and they were threatened by a challenger. It was enough to make her sick of being a burden to prides, but not enough to convince her to remain a rogue. Roarke had asked her to join, after all, and she couldn't really tell him no. Well, she could have, but she didn't want to in the least. She enjoyed being the little spoon too much to simply give all of that up on the off chance it might help someone keep their pride. She arrived and settled down, her eyes locked onto Roarke curiously as he charged into the battle. That's right, honey. You show those lions who's boss.

As the Cove lion watched the fight start and explode between Morrigan and Rainer, periwinkle gaze kept an eye out for anyone who would try to sneak up on him. But he was still watching as the current Summit Queen fought for her throne, secretly hoping she would fall. Keligan was always aching for a fight and he knew coming into enemy territory was asking for trouble. But he was not alone. Several other of his pride mates had arrived to watch the show. Keligan did not come from these lands. He was not born here, instead a place far away from the island. But he was willing to fight the enemy of the pride he resided in now.

His claws etched themselves out of their sheaths as he scraped the ground beneath him. And it was a sound of someone that caused him to look away from the pride challenge. Eyelids narrowed and ears pinned flat against his skull as he quickly turned to face on Roarke. But that was a mistake. A pair of claws hit Keligan's side of his face and he shifted himself enough to have the other claws hit his shoulders instead of his neck. But that was also a mistake on the Summit Fighter's part. Opening his jaws, Keligan ATTEMPTED to grip Roarke's chest and tear at the flesh and muscle. His LEFT pair of claws ATTEMPTED to rake along the other lion's armpit to clip the muscles underneath. His back legs had their claws digging deep into the ground to help balance him as well as his right front leg with claws extended.


Keligan vs @Roarke
Make Me - Minor Maim (tbd)
Round 1 / 4
Hits:

Rolling 7d20: 12 + 9 + 10 + 19 + 7 + 15 + 11

Dodges:

Rolling 3d20: 18 + 11 + 19

Luck:

Rolling 5d20: 8 + 1 + 18 + 19 + 14

_{— ART — CODE}

"Slander." Aquila rumbled in Adalwolf's direction. He'd heard the rumor, but they were only ever that. A rumor on the tongue of Sigrun enemies... Why would Aquila believe these things? Of course those who sought that family's downfall would seek to destroy their reputation, it made more logical sense than the truth. Because after all this time Aquila thought he'd have noticed, thought he'd have been clued in.... There was no way his family would allow this. Would allow their own grandchildren to be subjected to this.

Fights began to pepper and pop off left and right. Smells, snarls, blood began to fill the senses and overwhelm. Like a beacon of light Myra stood out from it all, her rumbles and voice clear as if they were the only two in the opening. Aquila nodded her way. He would. Every single time he would.

Aquila attempted to whirl around so that he lined up face to face with Myra and, somewhat slowly, attempt to approach her. Thunderous growl began to roll deep in his chest as battle loomed and once he thought he was near enough he aimed to plant his left forefoot down hard and swing up and out with his right, aiming to grapple behind Myra's left shoulder blade in her arm pit.

Aquila vs. @Myra
Major Maim
Round 1 / 4
Hits:

Rolling 7d20: 2 + 16 + 14 + 13 + 3 + 17 + 8

Dodges:

Rolling 6d20: 3 + 19 + 5 + 7 + 17 + 11

Luck:

Rolling 5d20: 11 + 20 + 17 + 12 + 18

ART BY NICOLEXV , CODE BY LARS

It was only a matter of time.

András rushed from the mountainside; he was farther away than most others had been, and by the time his large form came stumbling from the cliff face, the evidence of his hurriedness flew behind him: Rocks skittering at his feet, cascading about him in a billow of dust and snow. The crowd had already grown, angry and snarling, and Morrigan faced off a man unfamiliar yet familiar to András all the same. They all had that same scent, they all had that same energy. And when @Adalwolf called out and named who they were ( that man he met so long ago...it felt as if years had passed ) András was certain he was biting his lip until it bled.

@Mithril, he seethed, desperate not to make himself known. Silently he snaked through the crowd, heading hastily toward his striped cub who stood there among the chaos of them. His expression was nervous, his eyes scanning about him as if Rike eyes may fall on him all at once; or, worse, eyes that were searching for Rike. Even the smell of Illyria on his pelt may not be enough to those who may recognize him from the old wars. Thus, he stopped just short of approaching his son, leaving just enough distance between them that the boy be spared should he face an assailant. Go. Now!

If not back to the den, then at least away from all this, for András did not know what it meant for him, what it meant for all of them.

Art by Raph, table by cala

They'd been given just months — months — before another challenged called for the Iceforged throne. This time, Caltáriel showed up well after the crowd had begun to gather. Her hard lessons still worn across her pale throat, a once blissful plume of white fur now marred with scars and blight. Morrigan were already engaged in battle, too were her soldiers among the fray; some, fighting, others scrambling, others desperate to keep the little ones safe. Spectators from all over the country had thrown their calls to support, had risen their banners; and poor Caltáriel, still so new to this country or war and wrath, was confused by it all.

The scent of Andal was among them. The scent of him.

She was much less eager to throw herself into the fray without abandon. Her attack upon the Mire King had left her mangled and ruined for days, and his supporters had thwarted whatever of an ambush Caltáriel had tried to manage. This time, she would lay low; observe the battlefield as it unfolded, and like Alaric's supporters, lay in wait for any who would seek to take advantage of the chaos. Quietly, she sidled up on @Lucanus' free side, her demure form as observant as it was nervous. Will it always be like this? Warring, baring teeth to keep what little we have?