The man was smart to back off, and a mischievous smirk formed on the woman's lips. Knowing she kicked his ass. "Hah, buen intento." If they only had more time she kight would had given him access to what he had suggested within their fight but well, maybe later if they even had a chance to see eachother again. "Better luck next time," But again she wasn't going to let him win without a fight, she never did. Shaking her clay coat clean of dust it was time to go home, not before stoping to listen to the man's threats which instead of scaring her, intrigued her and sparked interest, curiosity to see if he would keep his word. *"Estare esperando por ti entonces." And like that she was gone. //T: Ill be waiting for you then. @Ryker @Corvus ★ **Barb exp +10 Win a fight (spars not included, defaulted or judged) +10 Participate in a raid or war (actively fighting, healing, or helping others) +5 Complete a spar or fight

ART By Cloudy ,CODE BY Cloudy

his claws glance off her limb, leaving superficial wounds, but his teeth find their mark. her hind paw slams into his toes, tearing the skin there and eliciting a yelp of pain from his jaws. before he can fully retaliate, her claws shift as she partially climbs further up his body to get a grip and begins to thrash her head. pain explodes, not as badly as violarum's obvious intent to maim but enough that fury unloads in the boy's chest. with his awkward positioning, his grip on her ankle, there's only one ( boneheaded ) plan that unfurls. his left forepaw lifts off the ground and sweeps out, aiming to try to slam across her hip and dig in there. simultaneously, he rears up like a horse, his head turning to the right in an attempt to twist her ankle, and as his shoulder dips lower to the ground he does his best to try to throw them both onto the ground with the left part of her body pinned on her side under his heavier bulk. antares v @Ghyslaine for zelda 2/3 Hits: Rolling 3d20: 15 + 9 + 17 Dodges: Rolling 1d20: 3 Luck: Rolling 6d20: 6 + 17 + 16 + 10 + 1 + 4 *dice display fatigue + 1 luck from hazel

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Ghyslaine

His yelp almost makes her back off. She's usually the first to apologize- isn't normally a vicious creature but he is stealing the lioness's wills. She has to keep going. Even if fatigue and pain drag her down. When he suddenly rears up, her body thuds with the impact of his paw smacking into her hip. She staggers, feeling her right paw twist in the grip if his jaws, and she lets out a screech of rage and pain as she blindly attempts to scratch at the ground with her front left leg- trying to keep them upright- trying to keep herself balanced.

She doesn't have toes of his to grind into, just the mud beneath her paw as she staggers and sways, blindingly attempting to be biting at his back and shoulders hoping to tear into whatever flesh she can manage. She attempts to slap her right paw into his shoulder again, as she feels like her balance grows more precarious- hoping to and aiming to slice down his side should she connect.

Every move now is a hail Mary, but she already fears the worst, as she struggles and tries to stand against his larger size.

Ghyslaine vs @Antares
for claim of @Zelda
Round 3/3
Hits:

Rolling 2d20: 6 + 14

Dodges:

Rolling 5d20: 17 + 16 + 3 + 9 + 2

Luck:

Rolling 5d20: 14 + 13 + 20 + 15 + 3

*Dice reflect fatigue dice.

_{art by yumpy}

fatigue drags at him and for a moment he regrets not just slinking off quiet-like with zelda. this shit sucks; fighting isn't very fun. instead of falling, she does some fancy footwork in the mud and remains standing. frustration gnaws at him and he thinks the little gnat on his back needs dealt with - and fully. his patience is waning with his energy and with his first attempt to throw her to the ground thwarted, annie decides to go with something she can't evade - or so he hopes. as her paw tighten its grips on his shoulder and tear the flesh further, making skin dance and twitch under them. his lips twitch and antares moves to try to tighten his grip on the woman's ankle, hoping to stress the idea that he could break it is he were particularly cruel. but today, he won't. not unless she makes him. instead, the man tucks a right forepaw under him and while his opponent slams teeth and claw to his back he rolls forward, doing his best to keep the hold on her ankle. his intention is to fully roll and slam her onto the ground on her back, pinned beneath his own back and the ground, and end the fight fully before they both fall of exhaustion. antares v @Ghyslaine for zelda 3/3 Hits: Rolling 3d20: 7 + 4 + 10 Dodges: Rolling 1d20: 18 Luck: Rolling 6d20: 7 + 15 + 14 + 5 + 20 + 4 *dice display fatigue + 1 luck from hazel

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He has seen enough.

This land will be as ridden with violence as the one he lived in prior, he thinks.

His eyes hardly leave Charax as she fights, and once she is free from her fight, he still waits to ensure she isn't challenged further.

He hears the breaking of bones, the yowls of pain and the smell of blood is over-whelming.

This is war at it's finest.

A lioness dies, and then her opponent. Another seems to mourn. Another tries to heal... perhaps they succeed and perhaps they do not. He cannot really figure out who seems to be fighting who. It's as if everyone comes here to fight for the sake of fighting.

As far as information gathering goes... this wasn't exactly overly fruitful- but he did learn something about this places tendency for violence, and he had remained hidden. So perhaps this wasn't a waste of his time.

He rises from the brush and slowly moves toward the way he came- leaving this swampy Mire behind.

-exit Eskel

OOC NOTE: This is Eskel's third post of attempting to remain hidden, and he hasn't been found so I'm exiting him out to claim the xp c:

_{BG — CODE}

there's a moment where she floats.

in that in-between place, not quite death, not quite life; it is not warm, not cold, not painful but also not peaceful. saga sigrún would, months ago, claim she wouldn't know peace; but she does, now. peace is laying on the sand in the sun with her children and her mate tucked at her side. peace is the absence of needing anything, of being needed in any way other than to touch and be touched. to rest her head on paws that could be so violent but, for her, could turn so soft.

and this? this, she knows, is not peace.

so she hesitates, her brows furrowing and her eyes surveying the pallid grey nothingness. but; her eyes? eyes? she blinks, struck by the strange sensation of eyelashes fluttering once more.

"dóttur. kappi skjöld." it's less spoken word and more rumble in her chest, a notion of words, a vague understanding that this is what the sounds mean - sounds that can't be words, can't be her native tongue, because they are guttural, like stones grinding together, and louder than thunder itself.

and before she can even begin to guess, the world beneath her feet dissolves and the jarl looses a ragged cry of surprise, lurching back down, down, down into the warmer, brighter darkness.

and then, pain.

it slams into her with the force of a semi and as @Calypso demands she breath, a ragged sound tears through her chest and she wheezes out a gasp.

she has no eyes to blink open but the sensation of opening her gaze on the world is there nonetheless.

the memory of that strange in-between, that not-quite-black-nothingness, presses close and for a moment she shies towards it. but there is a wall, endlessly tall and unpleasant, and a deep growling "nei" that demands she stay.

so she does, but she's so, so very tired. and so she settles her chin on the muck beneath her paws and lets the fatigue drag her back under to a softer darkness, one that she is so much more familiar with.

exit via unconsciousness this time

table by ferus & lineart by eerien00dle

His forward shove is met by a similar response from @Apollinaire, causing the font sides of their shoulders to ram audibly together again, bone on bone with the promise of substantial bruising to follow. His skull mostly meets its mark against his adversary's lower jaw, and though it will result in lingering bruising for the Andal sovereign, he knows that the blow he's landed to his opponent is a more tender one. Seeking to take advantage of the positioning of his head below the Dieudonne's, Seneca's skull shifts to the right and twists, his left cheek tilting towards the ground as his jaws seek to seize the tender flesh of Apollinaire's throat. In the process, his adversary's teeth manage to snag upon the already torn outer portion of his left ear, the flesh ripping free in his grasp and leaving the Oasis king with a sizeable chunk missing from his ear, blood streaming heavily down the side of his head. seneca vs apollinaire for major maim move four of five Hits: Rolling 7d20: 6 + 20 + 19 + 12 + 2 + 11 + 5 Dodges: Rolling 4d20: 4 + 16 + 11 + 5 Luck: Rolling 6d20: 20 + 16 + 5 + 7 + 17 + 8 *Seneca has +1 luck due to Hazel (AO Lead Scout) being present in the thread.

molten eyes and a smile made for war

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i'm ready to suffer the sea He shifts his frame to pur it in between them and the rest of the warring crowd -- a mistake he doesn't realize he's made until it's too late. Grit is nothing if not a loose canon and he manages to miss the signs of her fury until it's being launched at him. She waits until his back is turned; though he'd been keenly watching for any threats, he wasn't expecting it to come from them. Her weight crashes upon his spine, jaws and claws equally finding purchase in his thick fur. A pained snarl etches into. With a shrug he Hope's to dislodge her, clearly not interested in sparring with a child. Not when there are bigger things at stake. Later, he snarls -- ignoring the fresh wounds she leaves in her wake. It is an easy enough thing to shoulder them, ears flicking as the healer snaps at them both. He offers grit a pointed glare as calypso seeks to send her elsewhere, off to heal some of the rest of her crew ( her real crew ), while his steps follow calypso. They are slower, heavier, as his heart sits in his throat. There is only one fight he has eyes for. Saga is alive, but only just. It's only thanks to calypso's tireless work that she still breathes -- though she goes limp soon after he arrives at her side. Not soon enough, he can imagine. She is less lioness and more pulverized meat at the moment, and the shocking sight of her blindness makes his stomach heave. But her eyeless face, at least, seems the worst of her worries st the moment. There is a strange comfort to the aftermath. He's suffered through it before. Each time though seems harder to slog through and hakon once again finds himself at a healers side, hovering over the woman he loves. Wordlessly, he seeks to help calypso however he can -- pressing a hand to the familiar grey fur to stem the bleeding. Panic comes, almost too late; she has won this fight but recovery will be... challenging. But she's done this before. He's done this before. And he doubts it'll be the last time. Fear is a familiar bedfellow and he swallows it down, ignoring the stench of blood in his nose, ignoring everything else but calypso's instructions. The sea roils, and the storm persists. Exit via assisting

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silver moon sparkling — Her bead gives a small jerk in response to revnas question. It was caelum, of course, but he had not meant to. A slip of the paw, that's all it was. A misunderstanding -- and now look. Elias had come out of nowhere and launched himself at the stranger, and it was all too much. Her paw raises, intent on wiping away the blood from her cheek ( as it's caused such a fuss ), but instead she only manages to smear it across her cheekbone. She does not notice, nor does she notice revna getting closer until her nose brushes against her face. Jerking back, she cries harder -- tensing under the touch Familiar as it was. Mismatched eyes widen as she looks to her wife as if seeing her for the first time, but there doesn't seem to be much more time to unpack this moment. Something catches revnas attention and she yells, and then, and then -- Snap! The sigruns's leg shatters, leaving it to dangle in a way that makes her stomach roil. Even in the aftermath of such a brutual injury it is not to her he looks, or even to revna, but instead towards one of the other fights. Ears lace back as cruel emotions surge in her chest as he races off unsteadily on three legs. Leaving them behind. Leaving her. Eira wears these emotions and more upon her sleeve --- it is not a good look for the lilac woman. She looks crushed and terribly small, standing amongst the muck and carnage. Alone, alone. Feeling, for the first time in a long time, like she does not belong. Panic races through her, her form shivering with it. Her teeth almost clatter together as tears streak down her features, and it's too much. Paying no more attention to revna at her side ( if she had stayed behind and not followed elias ), dhaveira turns on her heels and races away from here. From the mire, from the war, from all of this. Her paws are unsteady but she runs regardless -- it seems that is what she is good at. It seems that is the only thing she is good at. Exit

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As she brushes her noise against her wife's cheek, Eira flinches away from her, her tears flowing even more freely. It startles Revna, and a flash of hurt crosses her face, unwelcome when she already knows that this is not a situation Eira should have ever been involved in.

As she turns to see what has gone on elsewhere and yells for Elias to stop his fight and tend to Saga, she realizes belatedly her mistake in distracting her husband. As he turns, the other male manages to break his leg, leaving it dangling in a position that is entirely unnatural. She doesn't miss the flash of fury in her husbands eyes, directed at her, before it fades. Guilt washes over her, a cold bath that rushes down her spine to dig its way through her body, settling into her gut where it could eat away at her uncomfortably.

His gaze turns to see their fallen Jarl, and he rushes to her side, calling her name. Worry dances at the edge of her guilt. Will Saga survive? From here it looks as though she is just as dead as the lioness being carried away by Cassandra's opponent, the king of the Mire. From the injuries that Revna can see from here, there isn't much hope that Saga will survive. It wouldn't surprise her if the Jarl was already dead.

As Eli makes his way to Saga, Revna's gaze turns back to their wife. It seems that it would fall to her to protect their treasure. But the emotions that she sees on Eira's face as she turns back to her are not the ones she expected to see. There is pain there, and not the kind that comes from an injury. Elias' wound and his attention being pulled elsewhere has upset the woman further. Eira can't see what Revna had seen. She can't understand why Elias would run away from them so, when he is so badly wounded and there is so much tumult around them.

If Saga dies today, their husband will have to take on more responsibility than he already has.

Its the look on @Dhaveira's face that keeps Revna where she is, rather than running to @Elías and the jarl. But it doesn't do a lot of good. Panic has overtaken Eira, and without another look at either of her spouses, she turns and she runs from the scene.

Revna is tired. She is still bleeding from her wounds. Her eyes follow Eira's escape with a forlorn sadness in them. She doesn't know if she can keep up with the upset lioness. She doesn't know if she should try. Eli is still here, and his wounds are serious, but there isn't much she can do about that, either. She's no healer; she knows nothing of caring for wounds save for some basic wound care. The last thing she knows how to do is bind a broken leg.

With a roar of sorrow, her heart torn in two, Revna tries to race after her wife, hoping Eli has heard her cry over the chaos around her. Her movements are slow and she stumbles through the muck and the mud of the mire around them, but she follows Eira as best as she can.

/Exit

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