Something was happening. It started with one Brook lion racing past the border, and then another, until a steady stream of faces Aneistri had yet to memorize left the pride land toward the south. For a while, she stared on in confusion, uncertain what the fuss was about—but she couldn’t very well stay behind and miss out on something her pride deemed important.

The plum lioness followed the trails of those who had gone before her, racing further south than she was typically comfortable traveling, toward the very edge of the earth as she knew it—and then beyond that. Across a small land bridge that felt too slippery, too slim, with energetic water on either side just ready to sweep her away into deeper and darker depths.

Her relief upon reaching the island in one piece was short lived. The sounds of fights, numerous and growing, greeted her ears before she came within sight of the mess. She hadn’t the slightest idea what had brought it on (or the peaceful, joyous celebration it had been before this) and she could barely differentiate sides. Scents—so many scents—bombarded her nose, the vaguely familiar faces of her pride mates blending with those of so many more strangers.

Overwhelmed, she dug her claws into the sand and gritted her teeth, ears pinning as her tail lashed. She needed to do something. This wasn’t her fight, not personally, but she wanted to contribute and show her pride she was worth something.

But who was friend and who was foe?

( I haven't updated her dice, but Aneistri is open to things :') )

ART BY RABBIT, CODE BY DEE, MODIFIED BY GUNNER

Khadija had rushed behind Miaran, whom she saw as a sister and would fight for no matter what. Leaving her cubs on someone's watch she went with all her medic equipment. Ready to asist her friend and anyone who might need her. Sge arrived finding already quite the mess, sighing she wasn't able to locate her queen amongst the crowd. "Where is she?.." She asked herself as she looked around but also paying attention for anything, knowing anyone could go for her. She sat down with her pouch firmly tied to her aide as paws rested with flexed toes ready for a fight. +1 Luck to CC lions from medic perk Open for fights

art by Shaz + code by spu

Roaring. Snarling. The raging bellows of warriors calling for reinforcements. The commotion was nearly impossible to ignore, but while one might think someone like Genesis awould try to distance herself from it all, the girl was in fact running straight toward it...with the fear that her siblings might be caught up in the chaos. Exactly what she would accomplish when she arrived she had no clue; she could not fight--not well--and she had few resources at her disposal with which to patch anybody up. All she knew was that she needed to see for herself that danger was not the reason her kin had been eluding her.

The sight that greeted her was not one she was prepared to witness. Her breath hitched at the thick stench of blood, and her eyes widened at the sheer number of lions that were entangled with one another. Genesis did her best to scan for any familiar faces from the perimeter but very quickly realized this would not provide the best vantage point. After what felt like an eternity of silent negotiations with herself, the girl decided there was only one way forward: through.

With a grimace she wormed her way into the crowd, peeking through squinting lids in an attempt to spot a brother or sister without risking a claw or tooth to her eyes. At first she felt overwhelming relief that none of them had gotten pulled into this mess--ironic, given how she had condemned herself in the process of this discovery--but that relief was quickly soured by the sight of @Isildur among the sea of beasts. Suddenly, she found herself rushing toward him, calling out to him in a desperate attempt to grab his attention before his blood joined everybody else's on the ground.

"Isildur!" Her voice felt so meek compared to the sounds of battle, but she persisted nonetheless. "Isildur!" The skin of her cheeks paled, then, at the sight of another--a mere child--trying to catch up to him as well. If not for the fact that she was calling out for her brother, she might have stepped in to shield her eyes from the horrors around them. However, Genesis feared one simple misstep might land her among the wounded--when her goal now needed to be damage control. For Isildur, for the cub, and for whoever else here meant something to them.

MEDIC:
+10 participate in a raid or war

code by scorpixia♡︎

More fights break out, but none of them close enough or his place to get in the way of. He wants to. Dragos strains against the invisible leash around his throat. The sound of battle fills his head, white-noise that drowns out everything else. He waits, and waits, looking for a place in the fight that fits him.

"An easy innocent."

The Savante’s head snaps to the side, and close by the cub is alone, unguarded - and a predator lurks nearby, already drooling.

Their chilling words cut the leash.

Dragos lurches forward, picking up speed as he moves, runs, trying to barrel between @Novana and her attacker before those teeth snap shut around her body. She’s just a child - a baby - and that white-noise turns red when he sees just how deadly that attack would have been for her.

No. Not again.

This isn’t a lion, no sane beast - this is a monster that needs to be put down. This is every cannibal, every Black, every villain that’s taken from him and his kin. Dragos attempts to clamp his open jaws around that extended neck and bite down, the full force of his moving body behind him. If they both go crashing to the ground, so be it. There’s no reasonable thought in his head, no logic, just a need to end. To kill.

Dragos vs @Imago
For Death
Round 1
Hits:

Rolling 8d20: 8 + 9 + 18 + 4 + 19 + 13 + 1 + 15

Dodges:

Rolling 4d20: 17 + 13 + 16 + 11

Luck:

Rolling 5d20: 11 + 8 + 2 + 15 + 16

(Permission to end the maim match granted)

ART BY DRIFTY, CODE BY LARS

Winter's encroach claimed cold buds at the roots of her whiskers. She inhaled then exhaled chiefly through her nostrils, all the better naught to disturb any crystal frost, though nothing burdened the weight of her whiskers. "Only cold," she grumble-sighed and flopped from one soft side onto her paws. Out of the stone den, sheltered from the wind and heights but nothing else. "Not cold enough." She traveled with one side smudged against the usual wall, all gait and manner associating this dawn with nothing unusual. "Just disappointment."

From far south, distinct from the gurgling of waves that never ceased (the waves she heard emanated from the sea to the north, though the southern sea claimed its identical twin), arrived with most blessed clarion call the summons for "AHH. WAR season!" with triumph she squeaked, drawn up chest high and poised like squawking squirrel.

Down the familiar paths from the Bluff she loped with the confidence of sight; outside, winding south, she traveled nose-to-ground and whiskers braced. Heart pounded heavy, fast; by the hour of arrival, multiple prides already flooding this theatre floor, her heart scooped shallow and with many flutters. Tail pointed high, she stalked through the chaos until fights thundered on all sides of her. "Enemies of Wolfbron Bluffs! Spill blood against me and gods bring rain to the victor!"

-- palps is looking for a fite

MONZA

The Viper arrives and this time she is here to cause pain and render flesh asunder. So many targets, pickings for her to punish. Wondering how many of these were witches. Even if they weren't she was happy with violence and don't talk to her about attacking somone unprovoked. She lost morals long ago.

There amongst the clashing bodies she searched for any who she might could bring pain to.

Yet instead of simply announcing her wish she stood there wanting to pick wisely. To have an smart approach in this. Whoever crossed her line of fire was going to pay with. their blood.

Looking for fights up to Minor maim

coded by flea

Surprise flits to her expression as @Louve ♔ emerges from the line of palm trees and marches her way straight for them. Thus far, it is only their small company that has arrived, and the soldiers of Caladan collectively hold their breath as they await the command of their Queen. Just as she does now, her gaze intent upon the Dieudonné Matriarch as she halts just beside them.

Was she here to support them, she wonders? To aid in their cause? Would Avril get to witness the full might of Wolfbron's strength?

Surely this is a mistake?

She blinks, purses her lips.

Tell me you do not stand with the ones that berate and torture women?

Oh?

She exchanges a brief, curious glance with her aunt, but beyond the gentle raise of her brows nothing else would suggest Avril was shocked or bewildered at all. She needs not wait for an answer long, however, as @Miaran quickly justifies their course of action. A temporary alliance, choosing the lesser evil. It was simple, instinctual. It makes sense.

At least to Avril.

She opens her mouth to speak, but is quickly overcome by her own choked cry as she's suddenly shoved away from her Queen. She did not see @Khal coming from the throng of the crowd, and had been too distracted by Louve's sudden appearance to notice his ambush in enough time to defend herself. She takes the full brunt of his attack, staggering a few steps away from Miaran and clutching her bruised shoulder.

A pained hissed seethes through clenched teeth, eyes quickly falling upon her opponent. Much larger, much older, much stronger. She bites back the heart that threatens to sink into her belly, and quickly recoups, before attempting to surge herself forward and upward. With forepaws and claws extended, she attempts to hook them into either side of his shoulders.

---

Avril vs Khal
for dominance
i of iii

Hits:

Rolling 4d20: 18 + 10 + 6 + 9

Dodges:

Rolling 4d20: 15 + 16 + 10 + 5

Luck:

Rolling 5d20: 12 + 13 + 17 + 6 + 19

TRIGGER WARNING!
This content might touch on topics that are sensitive or triggering for some readers. Trigger Warning for mentions of attempted violence toward a cub
Within the skin, the unshielded legions of organs. Guts to read and futures to plunder. Prophecy for the queen. Jaws stretched with jowls quivering, the maned neck in scraggly coils of humidity mixed with new sand mixed with drool. Foaming, stressed.

At dawn the waves rolled with foam in their creases, in little still pools, collecting debris from the tide.

Bare grimed moss-hued fingers with their ancient daggers striving, advancing the final stride with greed. The unshielded scruff jiggled. Bare, crusted crests of skin. Furrows of fuzzy fur. A barbed wire fence against a nuclear bomb? Shrapnel fangs bludgeon through skin, through fat, through a stretched gristle layer resembling muscle and there cut under the pelt. Imago may well hang on a meat hook. Gravity inverts this possibility. Downward the half's own stumbling tendencies, and the drive of a colossal dumb beast, pressing Imago's heaving chest into sand. Sand grains compress, form a floor, crack ribs between the base of the chest and the elbows. Fury heaves within. A scream. Limbs spread, thrashing, impossible to orient. Front wrists fling toward that dark bulk of weight, as though their unnatural number of claws may match his might. Maw pinned sideways, fangs attempt to scrape fur from the underside of the giant beast's chest with a chittering motion.

@Imago vs. @Dragos
Death
1/7

Hits:

Rolling 5d20: 13 + 8 + 19 + 16 + 18

Dodges:

Rolling 7d20: 15 + 13 + 7 + 6 + 2 + 20 + 18

Luck:

Rolling 5d20: 10 + 2 + 19 + 12 + 8

Keep a swift pace.. don't slow down.. keep your breaths even. Daedric had done so much endurance training up to this point that the brief run between the Cove to here would have been easy, but he had come from much further than that. The burn he felt in his muscles in the effort was welcomed and familiar.

He would arrive at the Lagoon, taking a moment to catch his breath before looking critically at the goings on. It was hard not to get swept up in the overwhelming energy that swept through the lions, it made his paws itch and set his jaw to clenching. How he reveled in the idea of throwing himself into the fray, not to aid his pride, only to test himself once again in battle.

For now, he would simply sit, pallid tail lashing around behind him. He would focus his attention on the pallid Mire king and the oversized dark blue lioness that challenged him. If he was to learn anything of value, perhaps it would be from this lion, one who clearly was no stranger to battle.

PALADIN EXP
+5 x2 Observe a fight
+5 x2 Exercise to gain endurance
+5 x2 Learn a new fighting move

You think I’m gonna play your game

I’ll never let you get your way

code: corvus || art: rabbit

The collision of meat against meat, the heavy slap of it. Dragos grunts, pain shooting through his body, but the other one gives. Something cracks and he feels it, but it isn’t in him, it’s not his pain. Claws grapple, rip into his thick fur and flesh underneath. The beast snarls, trying to keep his grip on the throat in his jaws and squeezing more and more, unwilling to give up his position even as teeth tear into him. Everything is numb, he is untouchable in the red bubble of his mind. Nothing matters but ending this - protect the girl, his family, all of them. He has to end this.

Dragos vs @Imago
For Death
Round 2
Hits:

Rolling 8d20: 16 + 19 + 12 + 13 + 2 + 1 + 20 + 5

Dodges:

Rolling 4d20: 16 + 18 + 9 + 13

Luck:

Rolling 5d20: 1 + 3 + 15 + 14 + 13

ART BY DRIFTY, CODE BY LARS