He is alone - until he is not.

The hauntingly familiar voice, thick with its accent and hate, whispers so softly into Peregrine's ear he almost thinks his mind is fucking with him. But no, @Rainer has found him. With invisible hands, he pulls the black bird's gaze from the fight and to the Summit group - to the dark woman, clearly injured, sitting amongst them all. Guarded. Protected.

Morrigan.

Rainer has more than enough reason to hate her, and these days Peregrine is nothing but hate wrapped in muscle. Nameless bastard. That's what he isn't, isn't he? A nothing. A nobody, thanks to his parents.

He told Rainer once that he didn't want - didn't need - a name. A place to belong. But the old bastard had seen right through him. He knew, like he knows now, that Penn wants nothing more than to prove himself. That he'd do anything to take what's been denied to him. To be deemed worthy - worth something.

A pound of her flesh, Rainer demands. Take revenge. Take your place. Prove yourself. Become a Rike.

The thought that he could deny the Jarl doesn't occur to him for a moment.

Peregrine's fangs flash in the dark of his mouth as his lips peel back, and like a hound let off its leash, he lunges across the snow.

His heart pounds, a mixture of fear and adrenaline running hot through his veins, as he eats away the space between himself and the queen. He doesn't try to sneak, he doesn't try to play games. He attempts to ram hard into her chest with his shoulder, full speed, and wrap his foreleg around her neck, claws trying to hook into her.

Peregrine vs @Morrigan
Major Maim
Round 1
Hits:

Rolling 5d20: 6 + 18 + 14 + 17 + 15

Dodges:

Rolling 3d20: 14 + 16 + 3

Luck:

Rolling 5d20: 10 + 6 + 1 + 7 + 9

(Edited to try to fix the coding bug)

_{ART — CODE}

Should she be here? Probably not. Did she still want to be here? Yes, cause where else to get that juicy intel on stuff in the lands other than a pride challenge? As she made her way up the mountain, she made a point to keep herself hidden from the rest of the onlookers. It would do her no good to get dragged into anything now would it?

Creeping closer, she found what she believed to be a good hiding spot that was still outside of the borders. An almost white woman and a brown one fought in the middle. One of them perhaps wore the crown for this pride? Flicking her tail, the red and white lioness continued to peek around the gathered lions, trying to figure out any tidbit of information that she could.

Blue eyes narrowed as two young lions both flung themselves at others. One flinging himself at a very scarred and war-battered lioness. Interesting. Rhys might want some of this information, if he didn't show his face here himself after all.

Tucking her paws beneath her, Órlaith would continue to watch the show unfold in front of her.

Órlaith is outside the borders, not trespassing and is attempting to remain hidden!

---

Potential Exp:
+20 Remain undetected in a large thread (5+ characters)
+20 Learn something about pride/group/family relations
+10 Learn something interesting about a character
double exp due to Peregrine

actions. "speech."

Art & Table Code by Zodiac

Talisa? It takes the wind out of his sails and simultaneously gives him the most fierce burning flame of light, of pride. This gentle, this kind soul. Diving fearlessly into the fight where Aquila expected Morrigan. Where her expected to see Morrigan he had felt
camaraderie and brotherhood. The emotions like a party, a game. With Talisa things became more serious, but Aquila also feels a peace knowing how well she has faired. How she has thrived. And as silver lining, Morrigan is behind her wife's arrival. "You have looked better." He says with a sad, look of love in his eyes. I've missed you. "They're all the same to me anymore. An enemy is an enemy." He should have cut the heads off of the snakes far sooner. He should have given less chances. Maybe this could all have been avoided. This isn't how he expected at all to reunite. There's so many unfamiliar faces gathering. One young lion @Valka speaks up. "There is nothing alone that is enough. You have to be half way decent at everything and really good at a few." He hacks a cough into his arm and feels his chest rattle again. The climb had done a number on him and adrenaline would only go so far to hold him together. But he is here, he is ready to support the pride and Alaric...

Wait Alaric? Aquila is trying to keep an eye on Talisa when he is forced to do a double take on one of the lions that has also arrived near Morrigan.

"Like this one?" He says of @Alaric. Aquila's lips curl up over his old yellowed teeth in the manner of a snarl and threat. He's behind the curve. Last he knew this was the Mire King and often in opposition with then the Summit. From a new enemy to an old. It's truly like he never left. The fact Alaric has gotten this close without a repercussion is where Aquila finds pause. His scent is not that different than Morrigan's. But anger. All Aquila knows is this emotion and it's far more comfortable to be angry than confused and acknowledging his pain. "Why does he smell like Illyria?"

There is unfortunately little time for an answer. Liar comes the accusation from a young voice and there is movement, there is an attack launched. Because this is Alaric Aquila hesitates. His body feels tight, ready to jump because this was Illyria but restrained still because of who he knew this lion to be. He feels no such hesitation when an attack is launched on Morrigan. His tired body cracks and Aquila turns towards the shadow in his peripheral. From beside Morrigan he steps first forward. His head pushes in, there's the crack of claws around his maned neck, curling and cutting below the greyed hair. There is the hard burnt force in his chest that leaves him coughing a loud bloody spit up. He aims to grab the young lion around the side of his neck with his teeth and toss him to the side and away from Morrigan. You're mine. An enemy signed, sealed, delivered to his door. Looks like they make them young now? Good thinks Aquila. He can nip a problem in the bud.

@Peregrine vs Morrigan Aquila
Using Master Perk to Take Morrigan's Place
Minor Maim
Post One

Hits:

Rolling 6d20: 16 + 4 + 11 + 17 + 20 + 15

Dodges:

Rolling 5d20: 5 + 15 + 19 + 13 + 18

Luck:

Rolling 5d20: 18 + 7 + 2 + 11 + 4

ART BY NICOLEXV , CODE BY LARS

So it was as he feared.

This was not a challenge Bruno intended to miss. How many years had he hoped for the demise of the mountain kingdom – for the demise of all within it who would see him exterminated like some plague? It was ironic that, were so many not trying to do it for him, Bruno might have liked to let his mother's blood from his veins. He might have wished to scrub himself free of that which marked him.

He would be damned if anyone did it for him.

Bruno ascended the summit with swiftness, teeth gritting at the sensation of rough stone scraping against the balls of his feet where the earth was meant to give way beneath him. He squinted against the dying light of dusk as he approached the huddled masses, immediately searching the center of it all to see who saw fit to usurp Morrigan – who would bring the old witch to her knees.

There stood Crow.

He faltered. Frozen there on the outskirts of that scene, his eyes darted around in search of anything that might bring sense to the situation. There battled two other lionesses, faceless to Bruno, and there battled one of his swarths of sisters against Alaric. He did a double-take. It was not the first time since returning to the land that he cursed his lack of context in his absence – that his claws scraped against stone and he muttered his frustrations at his own lacking. His gut simmered with renewed fury as it occurred to him that their father truly had pledged himself to the banner of zealots – of harpies.

So it was as he feared.

Bruno's attention was stolen once more as a blur of a brown pelt barreled toward his young ward. His hackles rose protectively, despite himself, and green eyes widened with shock as he witnessed a lion forcibly remove Morrigan from the altercation. Umber velvet twisted with confusion as he looked to the battling lionesses – so this had been the fight for the throne all along? Morrigan could not even stand to defend her throne. He might have liked to think he had something to do with that.

He was launching himself forward before he could truly think of it. Bruno attempted to barrel into her hindquarters just as the other lions removed themselves from the equation, a guttural war cry echoing from his chest as he tried to wrap his teeth around the base of her spine. His father was weak to the songs of harlots, but Bruno was not – would never be. Her lies fell upon deaf ears.

I'm not your enemy.

---

BRUNO vs. @Morrigan
for Major Maim
Round 1 / 4
Hits:

Rolling 7d20: 4 + 15 + 17 + 10 + 5 + 11 + 6

Dodges:

Rolling 4d20: 20 + 13 + 1 + 12

Luck:

Rolling 5d20: 8 + 2 + 12 + 11 + 13

|| december y12 | five years | rogue lion | at illyria summit ||

code by corvus | image by moogle

the scent of a fight drew the hyena, slinking along the dark swaths made by the mountain. faustine would rather stay hidden than allow herself to be seen by the others. so far, none of her family or allies have came. she would have to be more...cautious. even so, her skin is abuzz with the possibility of a brawl between her and another. that instance in the pit with the younger male had not satiated her desire at all.

licking her lips, faustine settles upon a strip of snow, its ground so warm that it's all slush. her tail coils around her body as she watches the main challenge. it seems like the one who took the challenger lioness isn't the high sovereign herself. rumors say that morrigan was wounded beyond help. and yet, there that woman is, in a fight with a black-furred boy. some lions just cannot find peace in their life now, can they?

ooc: i'll fix this post laturrrr

ART BY RABBIT, CODE BY LARS

"@Sariel." He says with relief as the young lioness comes to join him. "Stay close." Fearne is quite certain that more fighting will be breaking out before long once things get going. It seems unlikely that this stranger will listen to his plea. So it shall be, if she must turn the wheel then let her grab and hold on with all of her might. Mama was coming.

He has always had a unique view of the relationship between his parents, and maybe more than most the young son knows just how mighty Talisa could be. He isn't surprised to see her rush into the battle in Morrigan's stead. But he is still terrified. He cannot help the way his throat tightens up and there's just the slightest flash of memory. Of Mummy fighting... Of tiny Fearne huddled in the grass beside Orei and trying to hide, unable to look away. Do you know her? A question snaps him free.

It's a voice like bird song in spring. Long not heard as they migrated elsewhere but still very familiar. He looks and there is @Radahn. Brother. "No." He says with a shake of his head and studious glance back at the fight for the pride, even as more begin to break out. He's focused on Mama. "This is random.. I think." And whether or not entropy was better than a focused strike would be up for each to decide on their own.

Fearne thinks he will be able to weather this out, to come face to face with the results in the end with the supportive presences that have joined him. He thinks this up untill his vision is drawn to the side. To a shadow. To his shadow. Fearne lets out a small whimper and his body leans in the direction of Orei as he heads straight into a fight. But what could Fearne do? He did not want to stop the Saxe, but he did not want to see him harmed.... As he began to fight Orei looked like .. Orei looked like .. He could see Orei's father in his mind. That haunting trauma ever clung to him, shaped all he saw and all he did. And now it served to remind Fearne once more.

ART BY RABBIT, CODE BY LARS

"HIDDEN COMPLETELY

Assassin Perk: Level 2: Able to fabricate pride scents (Rogue)
Sleuth Perk: Level 5: Can't be discovered if actively hidden in threads "



The Viper Queen was on a journey toward Vermeda, her steps with purpose, when suddenly, she was captivated by a call—a challenge echoing from the North. Her ear twitched, turning instinctively toward the source. Curiosity ignited within her; she pondered if she should veil herself to witness the fierce souls daring to contest at the Summit. After a moment of compelling reflection, she set to work, rubbing away the familiar scent of Caladan from her sleek pelt, yearning to embrace the refreshing essence of the Frost-laden air, crisp and invigorating.

Clinging to the shadows of the rugged landscape, she watched from a distance, her eyes narrowing as she took in the faces of those gathered. A palpable sense of anticipation gripped her as she recognized the challenger before her; the air she carried spoke of Rogue, not Andal—a revelation that raised an eyebrow in disbelief. The figure responding wasn’t the Witch Morrigan, but rather one she had seen lurking around the Caladan challenge, stirring memories of that electrifying encounter.

Then came the one-eyed Witch, a obnoxious presence, and Miaran felt a smirk of triumph tugging at the corners of her lips; how deliciously weak this confrontation seemed! Yet, that smirk faltered, morphing into a frown when she spotted Aphrodite—an unsettling presence that she refused to abandon her concealed perch for.

Then Rainer appeared, his voice cutting through the tension like a knife, causing her ears to prick forward, her heart racing at the notion of allies forging unexpected bonds. In a world where females were revered in Matriarch-led domains, she understood the weight of alliances forged in the fires of mutual interest. A nameless male lunged toward Morrigan, only to be intercepted by another faceless contender, but soon after, a brute—the one who had suffered defeat at Morrigan's hands in the Ecrosia challenge—set his sights on the witch.

Miaran's pulse quickened as she immersed herself in this unfolding drama, her eyes sparkling with intensity and intrigue. Today was no ordinary day; it was alive with potential, and she felt it in her bones—a thrilling spectacle, destined to be etched into the annals of her memory as the Viper Queen reveled in the chaos before her.

coded by flea + background credit

there was a call. it was not for her - but recently she had been clutched by the feeling that things were going on and she did not know about them, and they were important, an an affect-the-ones-you-care-about sort of way. besides, the mountains were only a short distance away. a considerable upward trek, but, still. it was fine. she wanted to see.

the snow grew deeper the further up the peak she moved, and she purposefully picked out a path that seemed almost abandoned, veering away from the sounds of commotion so that she would not sit with the group - rather, she found a higher vantage point, staying low to the ground, hiding behind rocks and shrubbery until she could just about see what was going on.

her eyes found peregrine almost immediately. she frowned, sinking lower, over-large ears swivelling forward behind her cover of bare branches, straining to hear what was said by the much larger male he stood near.

she struggled, though, over the sound of her own thudding chest.

from it, she fished out that the gnarled female was morrigan, and she had maimed the man who spoke, and... something about drowning. she huffed softly into the snow, shifting slightly, wanting to hear better.

"if you vish to reclaim ze name rike for yourself...zen you vill bring me a pound of her flesh. push her off of zis mountain if you must. avenge us."

elodie's eyes went wide, horrified. she did not know the name, but peregrine was... well. he was penn. her penn. she didn't want to see him hurt. and this male - presumably a rike himself - he could ask him so easily to set himself on this scarred and battle-torn enemy, knowing she had defeated even him-? knowing she had taken his eye? if he couldn't defeat her, how could peregrine?

she could convince herself she imagined the animal fear that shot through her stomach at penn's immediate snarl, the nothing in his eyes. she wished she hadn't seen it. him bolting at this morrigan like an arrow fired from a bow was less terrifying than that split second of-

the ringing in her ears was suddenly louder than anything else. thud. thud. thud. breathing in the cold air was hard, and her chest hurt. time slowed. they all seemed very, very far away - the whole world stretching down a long corridor while she watched, a hidden observer. their audience.

he was intercepted by a much older lion, face grizzled grey with age, and elodie had to sink so far into her hiding place that she had no view of the battle at all anymore, paw over her mouth as she tried to slow her panicked breathing. she had no idea what was going on. but she couldn't leave- she- she just needed a moment. she couldn't leave him. what if he got hurt, and she wasn't there? what would any of them do to him - if he lost, if he couldn't provide himself to the male who had sent him, what then? she had to wait, frozen in place, sentinel.

elodie is hiding !!

+10 +20 - spy on another pride or family’s event
+10 +20 - learn something about pride/group/family relations
+10 +20 - remain undetected in a large thread (5+ characters)

code by cala - art by hush

He doesn't know anyone who would want to live this far north. His fur, built for the searing heat of the desert, could not withstand the bitter chill that swept across the wintry mountainface. But he was nothing if not determined, and though he could no longer feel his toes or the tip of his nose, Rhys persisted through the snow and the wind until the treeline finally gave him a much-needed reprieve, even as it pushes him into Illyrian territory. By then, he was dusted in a layer of fine snow, concealing the rusty hues of his pelt with white.

Despite the drastic difference in landscape between here and Ecrosia, there were familiar faces and familiar sentiments. This was no mere coincidence—this was the other side of the feud.

Enraptured, Rhys watches from the safety of the treeline, using the dark swath of the forest to conceal himself from sight. Mercifully, it seems that most others are otherwise occupied—even those he now recognized, faces he now knew the names to.

---

+20 (x2) Sneak into a pride or group without getting caught (1/2)
+20 (x2) Learn something about pride/group/family relations (1/2)
+20 (x2) Remain undetected in a large thread (5+ characters) (1/2)

Table & art by cala

A call to challenge from up the mountain was hard to ignore. Especially when said mountain housed enemies in Vermeda's very own backyard. To witness it be upturned, and possibly replaced with an ally, was not something he'd willingly miss. Even if that meant he would go with a target on his back. The thrill of a blood bath was perhaps more enticing than the challenge itself.

The Heir lumbers his way up the frigid cold mountainside. A few grumbling mumbles here and there to go along with the freezing trek. Naturally the main course is already being served by the time of his arrival. But other smaller dishes were still being brought to the table. Including his... Not-Quite-Wife.. @Melusina looking to be the only other Vermedan here. And at no great shock, going after her father. Seeing as he wasn't quite privy to the deeper layers of her resentment of the man, he could only assume she sought revenge for his theft of her weeks prior.

With eyes scanning away to span out across the growing sea of lions, a familiar darkness is quick to snag the net he casts. She looked so out of place all the way up here washed in all this white. I prefer you in red. The beast purrs as he moves in close and settles himself firmly against @Faustine.

code / artwork