It was time to act, to bring fire and shit to these assholes! As she heard her aunt's call for war the red yearling marched quickly to the lands of the Mire, an angry smirk adorned her lips, claws ready and ears forward. Rage and might drove her across the borders, caring none to tresspass as they were their fucking enemies. She growled as her eyes scanned the faces, wanting to pick a target for her wrath, she was young but a fire engulfed her ambition to bring fire and shit to their doors. Here she was, ready and open to fight for her persecuted family.

"deyja! Þið munuð öll deyja!" Vellen and his army was here to bring pain to their enemies.

deyja! Þið munuð öll deyja!: Die! You all will die!

code by Cloudy

A pointed ear flicked behind her at the sound of Ronin and Slaine's arrival, Ghyslaine not far behind them, catching the low rumble of the male's words to Kinki before letingt the sound fade into the background. If he had a more useful task for the youngster, Myra wouldn't get in the way of it. All that mattered now was that she had the backup she'd been wanting.

"It seems you have your chance." She murmured lowly into @Ghyslaine's ear. If the smaller woman had wanted to prove that she could defend what she deemed important to her, then today was definitely the day for it. "Don't let anyone get past this point."

She gave a low rumble of acknowledgement and agreement when Ronin addressed her. There was no other way that this was going to end, that much was clear. As he charged off, her eyes were drawn to the bronze male, her ire rising at his insolence when he spat at her. But her blue pridemate was already lunging for him, and so Myra turned her gaze to the pair of women nearby, one brown and one black-and-white.

She didn't have an opportunity to pick between them, however, as another voice rose above the din of the chaos well and truly erupting around them all. Slitted pupils met Úlla's green gaze with sharp intensity, her own blues narrowing as she absorbed the other's words. "Interesting choice of words, coming from a woman unable to defend her own pride." The retort sat poised upon her tongue, but before she even had a chance to open her mouth the gray woman was already barreling towards her, her intentions clear. Well, Myra did love a good challenge.

As the former Queen lunged, Myra would charge forward to meet her, angling herself so that Úlla's chest would collide against her left shoulder rather than her own chest, seeking to push back against the other woman's strength with her own. The other woman was both larger and had had more of a head start, however, and so the force of the collision was still heavy enough to drive an exhale from her lungs, sudden warmth flooding her shoulder muscles as the rush of adrenaline dulled the pain. Myra's movement was stymied enough to keep her from evading the gray paw that hooked itself around her own right ankle, leaving her front half precariously balanced.

With a snarl, Myra would surge upwards, weight shifting primarily to her hind legs as her left forelimb raised up in an attempt to slam her claws into the top of Úlla's right shoulder and rake themselves downwards. Fangs flashed as she simultaneously lifted her masked head upwards with jaws agape, seeking to sink her teeth into the delicate flesh of Úlla's left cheek.

Myra vs @Úlla
Minor Maim
Round 1/5
Hits:

Rolling 7d20: 6 + 10 + 19 + 9 + 3 + 15 + 13

Dodges:

Rolling 5d20: 5 + 10 + 9 + 14 + 8

Luck:

Rolling 5d20: 5 + 8 + 6 + 17 + 15

ART COPYRIGHT IRISH

it scares me half to death
Violence. It has become a language of universalities to their lashing tongues, a royal of death and the spilling of blood. Youth and life were stolen from the likes of young hands as Emrich's hands grapple for the seams of torn robes and mercy from the one who has damned them unto this hellish scene. It is fire, and fury - for it rains down with a master's heavy gavel and sentencing even the blameless to a lifelong zeal of death and destruction. It is a repeating pattern that never seems to break, and yet, as the cycle continues onwards. The world around them will fall, time flowing in a motion so stagnant and cold ebb and flow. It does not matter how fast-paced their desires come, for the fates have a designated death awaiting for what their worldly flesh cannot forever hold. He should not be here. It is a battle of blood and brawn. Throats against one another teeth, as blood spills upon the cool red veneer of concrete flooring. It bristles his fur and pools anxiety deep within, a dream. Wicked and dark as blood spurts from bodies in between him, souls reaching outwards to touch him with cold and clammy hands. Icarus is but a ghost to the discrepancies of their violence. Frozen in a timewarp, and woven unto the cogs of an old grand-fathers clock. The desire to be here for the sake of helping, and yet, the innate damnation of fear that grips his jugular telling him in everything to run.

How could something so perfect become so bloody in a matter of selfish minutes? Robbed by the clock, his time begins to tick out. Draining in a wayward fashion that turns ultra-violet lights into a pool of technologic pools of liquidy swirls, and while one could wish for such liquid to be nothing more than a hallucination. It is not. It is the blood of others that pools before his toes, gathering amongst his ankles and swallowing the creature of the light whole. He does not know who to turn to, for in between the battle of tooth and claw - the ravaging press of bodies and the tearing of the skin. The two whom he has come to know, demand the spotlight. Dancing within their own wicked ballad as the world crumbles around them - around him. "ALARIC" his voice is but a scratchy pitch above the noise, he is confused. Unsure of what actions are to be taken as they face off in their own bloody battle between crown and crew, "Cassandra..." It is not where he expects to see her next after their meeting - in violence, in lights, in blood red. Yet - here she is.

The world spins around him, ultra-violet and violent. There is nothing left for him here - a dream turned nightmare as hellion demons pursue the flesh of a day and age. Garnering their silver and gold for just a taste of what they believe gives them freedom, as the son of Peitho becomes encased. Trapped within his own panic room, as the world begins to fade into a blur.

Home. Aidoneus. Home. Home. Home. Fading....

You better wake up before you forget how to.

image by rabs || code by saph

She was a slippery creature, dancing away from him, far more nimble than the hefty king could ever hope to be. It mattered little, though -- he had the size and strength to (in his mind) put an end to this silly little fight. Shame she hadn't been bold enough to face him at his full power, though he knew it was not uncommon to take on a king when they have been weakened. It was how he had lost his old home, after all.

His left paw drops back to the ground with a thud -- he knows he has left some damage but also that it was not as significant as he wanted. His teeth, too, do not find a hold, leaving only scrapes once more in the neck of the attacker. Annoyed with how she continuously skitters to the right, pulling out of reach of major damage, he shoves forward and lifts his left leg, seeking to ook his claws around her chest to her right side (aiming for the front of her right shoulder). Alaric attempts to sink his claws in and pull her back to him, hoping to hold her in place so that he might have more success.

Her left paw lifts from it's place between them, striking out towards his cheek. Due to their positioning it scours the flesh on the right side of his face, leaving significant gouges that also re-open some of his healing wounds from the battle with the chimera bitch. He hisses between his teeth and strikes again, determined to put an end to her lofty goals.

Alaric's teeth aim once more for the side of her neck, just behind her ears again, attempting to sink more deeply in to her flesh. Here his height and size can work to his advantage, and he hopes that his prior attack and her own will prevent her from moving away so quickly. Alaric knows, though, that battle is nothing if not unpredictable.

It occurs to him that he is much like a viper, striking again and again, and the fleeting thought amuses the wheat king. A flash of that amusement sparks in his venomous green eyes -- clearly he is enjoying the fight.




Alaric vs. @Cassandra
for EM
Round 3/5
Hits:

Rolling 8d20: 3 + 16 + 2 + 5 + 10 + 1 + 11 + 12

Dodges:

Rolling 3d20: 3 + 13 + 16

Luck:

Rolling 5d20: 9 + 14 + 20 + 17 + 6

code by corvus

It was a curse; she was sure of it at this point. A fucking curse.

Every single pride she tried to join in the last few months eventually fell to a challenger; the last two (including this one) within the first few days of her joining. Shiva stalked angrily towards the border, hearing the commotion of fighting, but not knowing just who it was that had come to these borders.

She was irritated and willing to start a war with the enemy at their border, but when she came upon the lions that attacked - she was incredibly torn.

Fighting King Alaric was @Cassandra herself. A lioness she considered a friend, from Scilla Lagoon and Caladan Cove.

"Fuck," she murmured under her breath as she stalked around, being careful to avoid those who were already engaging in some sort of fight. A lot of the Sigrun were here, which gave her conflicting feelings. On one paw, she was glad to see them, on the other paw, she wasn't happy that she might once more become a rogue today when this fight was won. But at the same time... it benefitted her both ways because it didn't matter who won today, she'd have a home with Ecrosia no matter who was in the king seat.

Still, Shiva looked around with rage emanating from her form. Perhaps she wouldn't fight any of the Sigrun, but anyone else that wanted to step to her was fair game.

---

Not titled, but joining thread in progress, so assume she's EM // Shiva won't fight Sigrun, but anyone else that wants to stir the pot, I'm game all the way up to minor maims :)

code | image

Valkravn had become more than accustomed to hearing the bellowing calls of challengers wanting to take a pride for their own. It was just like the rise and fall of the tides here now, and nothing in Amaryllis seemed to be able to stay stable for more than a few months. It was the somewhat familiar sound of who had released their challenge that made her move a little quicker, and as she drew near the Mire's borders would a booming declaration of war that would cause for the Viking's pace to speed up, eyes narrowing onto what lay ahead. She were informed just enough about the Brook's relations with the Sigrun and what family they had hatred against, as well as knowing full well that Ecrosia was not their allies. Several fights would already be in progress as she arrives, tail lashing out behind her while she observed each one. First she noticed Cassandra and Alaric, watching them for a moment before eyes then swept over the others. It wouldn't be until she notices Aquila in his own battle that the Brynmawr releases a low growl, watching with narrowed as she makes her way toward where @Talisa and @Morrigan were at. "Are you ready, systrar?" Are you ready, sisters? Being related by blood meant nothing to Valkravn; it was the show of loyalty and trust that instilled familial bonds, and she saw these two as sisters as if they had been in her own litter. There she would stand, shoulders rolled forward and her defenses slipping into place, watching the chaos unfurl before her. She would watch and wait for now, not wanting to prematurely throw herself into the fray if she had any say about it. No, for now she would play it patiently. valkravn is open to minor maims only please!

table by spu

The challenge had immediately perked the Miroslav feline's interest - if only for the fact that it was another female who challenged and one who did not sound particularly old. Of course, Victoria could not cast such assumptions as she had not met the challenger, but the roar that rolled across the land sounded feminine to her ears and reasonably young. Like the viper she was, Victoria slithered forward with the intention of remaining an unknown watcher in these events. She wished to learn and had no intention of engaging in anything. It took time for her to move across the expanse of Amaryllis, which clearly was to her disadvantage. As she arrived, the sound of multiple battles breaking out, including a death match. A moue curved across her lips - she should have run faster because now she had no idea who was fighting whom. Even so, the girl slipped beneath a particularly dense bush, silver eyes darting this way and that as she attempted to observe the fights undetected. Victoria is attempting to remain hidden +10 Sneak into a pride or group without getting caught (1/2) +10 Remain undetected in a large thread (5+ characters) (1/2) +5 Infiltrate a group thread without getting caught (1/2)

table by koi

Oh, he was not going to miss this.

As soon as the call rang out in the air was Keir on the move, making his way toward Ecrosia in powerful strides. It wasn't exactly who he would think would challenge for a pride, but in this moment he did not care. No, all he wanted to see was that asshole get his head pushed into the mud like he deserved. And as another call went out, this one much more menacing, would Keir pick up his pace. As the lion came up onto the Mire's borders would he push right back them with ease with no care, blue eyes becoming more observant and watching his surroundings.

Slowing down once he were at the source of it all would he then observe the many fights that were also breaking out aside from the pride challenge, taking in who he knew and who he didn't. He would notice @Morrigan and @Talisa and would make his way toward them, standing near them as his shoulders rolled forward. He would be silent, instead watching and waiting to see if anyone that were an ally to him or his friends needed assistance. He would throw himself into the fray if he needed to, but mostly he just wished he were the one giving the Mire King the ass kicking he had been dying to give him.

_{BG — ART — CODE}

For the third time in his life, a death toll rang out for his Aunt Saga. It was almost too much to think - that his Aunt had already fought and killed two of the Rike who threatened Sigrun lives and here she was, summoned to another. It set the males heart racing, a tightening of his stomach that meant he couldn't stay away. Ultimately he knew that this was Saga's fight (again), but he could at least bear witness to Vellen's final judgement. And when Saga wore another Rike as her trophy, Baltasar would be there to celebrate with her.

He slipped like a shadow through the trees, as always assessing the terrain and the lands he moved through. As he entered the shrouded trees of the swamplands, he quickly noted a distinctive tree drooping in vines that helped to mark the section of Mire borders that he moved through. It was a useful landmark that he would remember in future. From there, it was hardly an effort to follow the sounds of snarling and scrapping - deliberately using the prey trails through the jungle to keep from getting caught up.

As ever, the melee that surrounded the fighting made it difficult for the male to determine what was happening. Almost instantly however, his inky gaze fell on the fighting form of his elder brother @Myrkvi and then within seconds he clocked @Cassandra in the midst of her own challenge. It hadn't even registered on his mind that his brothers girlfriend was the issuer of the challenge. Silent, his gaze flickered over to his Aunt and true fear rumbled in his gut. She was fully blind now - did she even stand a chance? He sincerely hoped so. Dark gaze swept once more around those spectating, until the fierce cry from @Zahra caught his attention and his dark ears lay slick against his head. Thankfully, she had used a language that most outside his family did not know, but he slipped swiftly over to her - using the cover of the trees to skirt around the edges. "Zahra - vertu rólegur" Zahra - be calm.. "Við erum enn berskjölduð gagnvart Rike." We are still vulnerable against the Rike. And their allies, whomever they may be. He aimed his quiet words at his sister and sat beside her, gaze now flitting between his brother, future sister in law and aunt as they battled.

+10 Explore a territory and find something useful in it (1/2)
+10 Find a notable landmark in a territory (1/2) [tree to mark the border]
+5 Use the terrain to your advantage (1/2) [prey trails through the forest]

Table code and table image by: NAVARRE

Haven't I given enough?
Always the fool with the slowest heart

The hollow had become a sort of veil against the rest of the world. Its literal shelter paired with the reserved nature of its inhabitants created a haven away from the outside world – a haven in which there was just Hrefna, Lysander, and their infant sons with a smattering of cousins in distant chambers.

She could feel that haven washed away violently with the sound of Saga's cry. She knew it – oh, it was all too familiar, and yet this time was different. It carried with it instruction. Hrefna moved to her paws swiftly, tucking the boys away in the coziest corner of their nest and instructing them sternly to stay, even with their lack of mobility at such a young age. She then called for Lysander to follow her, not bothering to wait and see if he would heed her command, or possibility argue with her to hold back. Magnus's words weighed heavily upon her from their last meeting about the Rike stronghold within Amaryllis, and she could not sit idly by when members of her family could be in danger.

Her journey was hasty. She did not stop to rest or take a drink, just kept pounding her paws against the rough terrain below until she was eventually carried to the mire: a place she had once frolicked as a cub with allied royals. It hardly seemed like a place fitting for children anymore. Several lions were already locked in battle, a symphony of snarling and roaring grating upon her nerves as she used her half-seeing gaze to try and make out what was going on. A rich-hued pelt locked against the Sovereign Alaric seemed eerily familiar to that of her – what was Cassandra, if not a sister-in-law? Hrefna's face furrowed into a somber glower as she looked upon them, eventually making out both Úlla and Saga amongst those fighting. Saga, of course, was caught in murderous throes against another Rike. Her tongue began to bleed from where she had not realized she was biting it.

Without another moment of hesitation, she began looking for a target. Úlla was brawling with a golden lioness who was flanked by one with a more ashen pelt, snarling, and this was all she needed to see. It's us versus them.

Attempting to hurdle herself at the mire lioness head-on, Hrefna tilted her head slightly so that she could see effectively out of her right eye. She attempted to knock her left shoulder into the center of the small woman's chest, lifting her right arm with claws extended to try and rip them down the flesh of her left shoulder mercilessly. Hrefna's jaws snapped forward in an attempt to clamp them down on the lioness' left ear, attempting to rip the thing off right there.

---

|| december y7 | two years | OH gentry | at ecrosia mire | @Lysander ||

Hrefna vs. @Ghyslaine
Minor Maim (Half ear)
Round 1 / 5
Hits:

Rolling 5d20: 18 + 14 + 11 + 16 + 8

Dodges:

Rolling 4d20: 5 + 6 + 1 + 9

Luck:

Rolling 5d20: 14 + 8 + 3 + 9 + 1