Anger surged within her like a tempest, a fire raging for blood to quench its insatiable thirst. The thought of tasting her long-awaited revenge filled her with the most intoxicating blend of sweetness and necessity. With each tick of the clock since the War, a gnawing restlessness took root in her soul. Her world, once vibrant, now crumbled like ancient ruins, and she vowed to carve her mark deep into this desolate place, a testament to her wrath. If the Executioner triumphed this night, she would claim another head—another trophy to hang in her hall of vengeance. She would deny them the comfort of fighting in their familiar territory; no, this battle would unfold on her terms, a blood filled ground where War would rise anew. Crowns held no allure for her; she sought no hollow promises wrapped in deceit.

As the beginning of the night cloaked the land, destiny awaited, and she felt the weight of inevitability—the ground would drink in more blood before dawn’s first light. No more gestures of mercy would pass her lips after victory; she left the shadows at dusk to summon any allies daring enough to stand with her, stepping boldly into the Pit. Her voice echoed through the darkness, a fierce call for the head of @Karsa Savante—there would be no compassion offered, only the fiery fury of her spirit. Her claws unfurled, glinting in the dim light, and her tail lashed like a venomous whip, poised for the hunt. Countless bones lay scattered before her in the wake of her wrath, and Karsa’s would be the first to crack under the weight of her vengeance; they would tremble before the true extent of her fury.

With her torn ear pinned back fiercely against her skull, her singular eye scanned the shadows, its narrowed gaze a predator’s focus. Saliva dripped from her eager jaws, and her fangs shone like daggers in the dark, each droplet a promise of the violence to come. If he dared to hide, she would become an unyielding shadow, a relentless hunter on his trail, for nothing would stand between her and the reckoning that awaited. This was only the beginning.

Miaran vs. @Karsa
Death
Round 0 / 7
Hits: [roll=#d20]
Dodges: [roll=#d20]
Luck: [roll=#d20]

table code by daanyen

Kvare did not believe in rumors. But the sound of her echo is a resonance of truth, a confirmation of his worst fears—and a satiation of his roaring anticipation. But it is not his head that she calls for, or that of his ilk. Instead, it is for his ally, a Savante. Worse yet, for a lion Kvare remembers as a mere boy last they met. Valiant and wild-eyed, hardly a soul deserving of such outright murder.

A snake cares not if it feasts itself upon the young. It is ruthless enough to sate itself on anything within reach.

Kvare would not stand for any of his sons or daughters being called into such an unfair fight, and he doubts Alexander would let such a thing stand either. Such is the duty of fathers and patriarchs and kings to protect their legacies, to behead the snakes that slip into their cradles. This day, Kvare would do what he hoped the Hollow would do the same for him.

Better he, a withered and war-torn dragon, than a son who still has yet to taste true power and the pinnacle of life.

And for Kvare's part, he has a bone to pick, after all.

He has not forgotten how their last meeting went.

Through luck or circumstance, he is the first to arrive. The setting sun casts the pit in a golden glow, though half of it remains shrouded in an encroaching shadow. Kvare is too large and too fire-kissed to hide, but he approaches with a swiftness that demands attention, and a countenance that is twisted into a half-snarl.

He does not owe her an explanation. He does not try to plead with her, to change the nature or direction of her fight. A disease can only be cured if it is culled at the root.

So he surges forward, rushing in a direction that puts them face-to-face. His head lowers and shoulders square, and as he reaches the peak of his speed and cuts the distance between them, he aims to knock himself squarely into her chest in an attempt to knock her over with the entirety of his weight—or perhaps wind her.

---

Kvare vs @Miaran
for death
round i of vii

Hits:

Rolling 7d20: 18 + 16 + 4 + 19 + 13 + 17 + 7

Dodges:

Rolling 6d20: 12 + 11 + 13 + 16 + 17 + 8

Luck:

Rolling 5d20: 14 + 13 + 6 + 19 + 4

Using Paladin master perk:
Take someone's place in a maim or death match without penalty.

Art by Rabbit, table by cala

"For one so intent upon being a mighty warrior, you call for the head of a mere child." Came the heavy drawl of the Obsidian King. There is no hint of kindness, nothing but sheer hate laced within the very veins of the usually calm, gentle giant that was Alexander.

This woman had tested his limits, time and time again. For what? Nothing. Her fight was pointless, her hatred even more so. She had jumped to conclusion after conclusion - and not only with him and his family, he had no doubt.

"If you do not die here tonight, I will be after your head, and the heads of all those you hold dear. Your legacy will die with you." That is what the Savante did. They snuffed out any threats, no matter the sin, no matter the cruelty. War was war, and all things were fair. If she could come after his children, well...no matter how golden his heart might be, this was the very thing to turn it dark. It didn't take long...

Someone came to respond.

And it was @Kvare that did so. At first, it didn't register what the male was doing. His brows raise, but immediately there is relief and gratitude toward the Tollaire. He had been right to remain loyal to the family when Miaran had come crawling to the borders of the Hollows, wishing for an alliance.

He holds his breath, watching as the beast attacks the one calling for his son's head. He could only pray to the Mother to protect him, to see this heinous woman vanquished once and for all.

table by aurora / art

It was his father who answered the call.

There was something stirring in his chest, deep and unfamiliar. Strange. Foreign. Wrong.

His breath hitched, shallow and uneven. His heart skipped in its' rhythm. His ears twitched, flattening instinctively before springing upright, scanning for sounds that weren’t there—or at least shouldn’t have been. It was only the voice of @Alexander ♔ that pulled him from whatever madness has taken hold of him.

He stood tall then, lifting his chin as he stood witness to what only could have one end. Yet, even in the face of this, of seeing his father after so long, of wondering where his mother was, he could not forget that he was king above all. Parting his maw, he too spoke:

Ú-dartham le na meth ambar.

We will hunt you to the ends of the earth.

It was a promise.

ART BY RABBIT, CODE BY DEE

MONZA

Oh damn, things had become wild around here..

Yet the Viper didnt cower from blood, as it was a common thing for her to witness due to her duties as the poisoner of the inquisition. Where many witches had fallen to her many potions and even her own claws.

She arrived, taking on the dramatic scene. Of a woman and a man fighting for the death, a dance as old as time. A dance that always gave her of the good excitement. Hiding from others's view she aimed to watch the event without unwanted attention towards herself.

She had previously removed her scent and used moss to cover her patterns, though she doubted many would know who she was.

she is hidding


+5 Practice covering your scent
+5 Practice speed or stealth
+10 Successfully stay hidden for the duration of a thread

coded by flea

Another day of little to no consequence for the lilac yearling. There was only the usual endurance training that carried him all across Amaryllis every week. All the running he did was not without reward, his lean body putting on more muscle. Agility and strength would be honed in equal measure, believing he needed both to be a truly skilled warrior.

The focus on the path ahead was interrupted by the kawing of a small crow flying ahead of him, seemingly intent on something in the nearby pit. Did his little bird see something or someone of interest? Nothing intrigued her more than potential violence, which sometimes resulted in a free meal.

He would soon find himself at the fringes of a fight, slowing his pace as he took in the happenings around him. His feathered companion would land on his back, silently observing the goings on.

@Alexander ♔ stood along the side, speaking against the familiar lioness. Daedric had not seen her for awhile, now he was learning the depths of hatred she and the Savante family seemed to feel towards one another. She was a threat to his blood, even if she had shown no such hostility to Daedric himself.

He would not speak, merely occupy a place a short distance from his father. He would observe the fight in front of him, always eager to learn more from warriors within the arena. If a greater fight broke out, he would stand ready to defend himself.

PALADIN EXP
+5 Observe a fight
+5 Exercise to gain endurance (excluding spars)
+5 Learn information about a potential threat

You're the match and the flame

Oxygen to the brain

code: corvus || art: rabbit

TRIGGER WARNING!
This content might touch on topics that are sensitive or triggering for some readers. Trigger Warning for mentions of [Explicit blood, gore, or death; Any mention of an egregious act toward a cub; ]


@Alexander ♔ arrives, his bravado spilling forth like salt on a festering wound, and she can't help but laugh. He is no mere child; he is of age to marry and father children with Pyrrha. Don’t think for a moment that I care about taking cub lives either, she declares, her wide grin betraying her intimate knowledge of the tangled affairs within the Savante and Tollaire families. She brushed aside the boy who dared to appear, his words spilling forth like meaningless chatter, but her focus remained untouched, refusing to acknowledge the noise he made.

It wasn't the boy who inflicted pain upon her during the last war that answered the call for vengeance. No, it was the coward— the one who fled like a frightened rabbit after she'd handed him his own defeat during their last encounter. That wretched soul relinquished his title of Tollaire Patriarch to a mere child, unscarred and untouched, while she had sunk her claws deep into his flesh. Oh yes, she was acutely aware of who held current, false dominion over the Caladan sands.

Miaran had not buried her memories of @Kvare. That treacherous snake, who had dared to allow his worthless children tread upon her sacred sands, haunted her thoughts. She watched him like a hawk, poised and predatory, as he approached. A fire ignited within her, a manic fury boiling over as she imagined the swift descent of the Executioner's axe, ready to sever his head before the dawn could kiss the skies. Having slain Reti, she envisioned tearing Kvare apart in a similar manner, savoring every moment of retribution.

She steadies herself, her claws piercing the blood-soaked earth, feeling the pressure push against her frame. A cough erupts from her lungs, but she shakes it off, snapping her jaws in an attempt to ensnare his muzzle within her fangs. Her left claws lash out, attempting at seeking to gouge into his face and eye, while her right claws yearn and attempt to dig into his front leg. With every ounce of strength, her back legs anchor her to the ground, her claws gripping fiercely, and her tail thrashes behind her, fueling her balance, her desire, her wrath.


Miaran vs. @Kvare
Death
Round 1 / 7
Hits:

Rolling 6d20: 4 + 1 + 12 + 7 + 10 + 6

Dodges:

Rolling 7d20: 9 + 12 + 14 + 19 + 8 + 4 + 2

Luck:

Rolling 5d20: 3 + 9 + 19 + 8 + 16

Assassin Sub-Master Perk:
50% chance of using the shadows to your advantage in a fight (+1 to dodge rolls for next round, once per thread)

Rolling assassinshadow 1d30: 6
You have used the shadows to your advantage! (+1 to dodge rolls for the next round

Sleuth Master Perks:
Watchful eye (use the Sub-Master perk of another trade once per 3 OOC months)
Barbarian • 50% chance of going berserk (+1 hit rolls for the next round, once per thread)

Rolling barbarianberserk 1d30: 16
You have failed to go berserk!

table code by daanyen

It happened, Vellen had blessed her. Blessed her womb with his divine child, it had to be him... She had not courted with any male; she wasnt even in heat. And yet she was pregnat. She was certain she was, the sensations were too intense. It had to be Vellen... she had fate in it. And thus she needed to be even more cautious with what she went into, hiding and staying clean of any conflicts and violence-stained lands. Yet curiosity got the best of her, and she made an exception by coming here to watch the fight that was starting from two lions she knew nothing about. Quietly she watches from a hiding spot, not wanting trouble towards herself. Luther or any of the Ecrosia scum could want to take her back and she wasnt going to let that happen. Assassin Level 3: 50% chance to remain hidden (can’t be discovered; threads not marked P) Rolling assassinhide 1d30: 25 You are successfully hidden! +5 Observe a fight

art by Shazaki + code by spu

The call for the head of her younger cousin does not go unnoticed, infact it jolts through the Savante lioness like an arrow shot directly at her, her head jerks up and she stiffens, she was still sore from childbirth but not so much that she would ignore this call for War. Her sweet younger cousin. This was unjust, and even if it were just, she would never let a call for her family's head just sit idle.

Her body is careful not to wake the babes that sleep at her stomach, tucked safely away in her makeshift den near the Home Cave, she sneaks out, checking one more time that they sleep restful, and then she is off.

Once arriving she seeks out the one that fucked around, and soon would find out within mere moments. She has half the mind to launch herself into the gray cat, her fur bristled and raised, hatred beating through her veins like a war drum, her heart echos in her ears, sounding like the March of an army, but before she can take her steps towards the woman, another launches themselves at the bitch.

It only takes mere seconds to recognize the man that would stand to protect her cousin.

Kvare..

His appearance has halted her, stealing her breath, her eyes lock onto the dragon and equations begin to make sense, she can see the resemblance, but now is not the time to think of her children's heritage, she shakes the thoughts away, eyes forcing themselves to look away.

She hears her uncles voice, it calls her back to the present and she is quick to move and take his side, tail lightly touching his hip to let him know her presence, "Ez háborút jelent." War, again. She didn't know whether it were a question, or a statement, but she knew the answer, should the gray bitch live, there was war waiting for them after the fall.

1. This means war.

This content might touch on topics that are sensitive or triggering for some readers. Trigger Warning for mentions of violence against cubs

@Miaran. It was a lioness she'd heard of far too often lately, and not for good reasons.

Storm'd heard the call for the blood of Karsa, whom she respected too much not to stand behind. Although mere days fresh from the birth of her children, her body had recovered well. She left the cubs with someone she trusted back at the Hollows as she ventured out to the Pit, the source of the call. Although she felt uncomfortable with the lioness, she had no reason to distrust her ability to watch the young.

There she saw her, the wicked lioness who she had seen only once before, who she had not previously known the significance of nor how that lioness' actions had harmed those Storm cared for. Miaran would not take more from them this day. Storm would make sure of it.

She saw @Alexander ♔ already there, and a lion she did not know facing off in Karsa's place. Should he win, as she hoped he would, Storm vowed to tend to his wounds to the best of her ability.

As she arrived, another did as well. A lion who smelled of the Cove and of authority. Although she did not know the language in which he spoke, she could tell that he did not stand by the side of Miaran either. @Daedric, too, had arrived to watch the fight.

Storm remained silent, focused, for now, on the fight before the growing crowd. The support for Karsa was wide-spread it seemed.

Perhaps Amaryllis itself refused to see more blood shed by those cruel claws.

And then the vile woman opened her mouth, making threats and spewing vicious words. Storm couldn't help but picture her own cubs, bodies torn and bleeding at Miaran's claws. Her fur bristled and she caught herself taking a forceful step forward. If the lioness were not already entangled in battle, Storm was have thrown herself at her. This wicked creature would do no such thing except over her dead body.

Another spoke the words that the air had been screaming since the battle began. This means war. There was nothing she could agree with more in this moment

@Levana

---

+5 Observe a fight (1/2)
+5 Learn information about a potential threat (1/2)


Edited per OOC discussion about current custody of the cubs.

ART BY RABBIT, CODE BY LARS