+10 Cast a curse or blessing on a character/group
+5 Attend a spar or challenge to assess the wounds

Just mere days since the brothers' arrival and Alaric was already getting called out to some remote area away from his pride. Lothar was interested to witness his sibling fight, but the selfish thought of learning more about the inhabitants of this land led him out of the swampland. It came as no surprise that the Ecrosian High Sovereign had already made enemies here. After all, when a man carried a crown there were always other men who would want to tear him down. Such was the world. Such were the laws of nature.

The cleric lykoi arrived in the middle of a heated battle. Alaric was facing a piebald man, while a small group was observing on the sidelines. Judging by the two men's appearance, they were related to the young buck that was battling it out. Brothers? Cousins? He sat on the sidelines, keeping his gaze on the two Andal men and woman. He sensed the dark energy lifting off their glares, the evil that they cast upon his sibling. A smirk curled on his lip. May your greed return and bite you in the ass ten-fold. Darkness calls for darkness. And darkness will answer, for energy used irresponsibly was far dangerous.

His thinly slit eyes shifted back to the fight, studying the bodies that moved with vigor carefully. He couldn't deny that he found the muscles rippling beneath flesh beautiful, especially when they have torn asunder and exposed red flesh. So much opportunity to learn. Shoulder to shoulder was certainly going to leave an extensive bruising to both the wheat King and his foe. The kid was going straight for Alaric's face, leaving split flesh across the Ecrosian monarch's jaw. He could think of a number of herbs that would remedy that. Perhaps later, if Alaric didn't decide to act as if he's too tough for healing.

coded by flea + art by rabbit

Patchouli had endured through the early stages of pregnancy with difficulty. Already she looked worn down, aged, and a little ragged. Mostly she just lay in her den and let time progress, but she was never quite rested after such times of entombment. She feared how much worse it might be later, when the cubs really started to sap more of her strength. Right now it was not very obvious that she was, the small swell a bit difficult to make out on her fluffy frame.

Why would she come to this place? It had not been intentional in the beginning. Patchouli had found she felt better when she went on slow and leisure walks, something quite impossible to do within the mire. There was too much mud and standing water there in the spring for her to keep her feet dry.

Getting away from the cold damp would ensure she could get herself warm absent another body next to her. Seeing all the couples and their affections for each other made her long for such companionship. She would never have even known what she was missing until she came here, a place different and also frightening, but with a tenderness she might never know, only observe pitifully from afar.

She was drawn here by the commotion, by the smell of Alaric. She worried for the lion, as one who cared for him. She might not have come had she realized who was all here. While she had endured a lot on account of him, she had no ill will towards @Seneca. He had been kind to her, almost loving in the briefly offered affection, be it in her interest or only selfish reasons. He could have been cruel to her and still gotten what he wanted, but he had chosen not to be. Her fear of him now was not in how he might be towards her, but in what he might do if he knew she was carrying his cubs. In her home, it was very common for a king to take his children from their mistresses, who in turn would never see them again. Harsh perhaps, but a common practice. A king wouldn't want such a low-ranking woman raising his children.

She would decide to linger, held there by the battle @Alaric waged for a lioness of the Mire. He truly would defend the members of his home, even worn from war and having suffered from such grief. She would appreciate him a little more, cast in this light. She hated violence, but she was trying to better understand him and his need to fight.

Eyes would trail from him only briefly as she lay down at length, looking to Seneca's siblings. They could have been related to her in another life, similar in their markings, though their colors were less vibrant. One, @Leander, had a mane of glorious fire though, which she felt entranced by for a moment. It was impolite to stare though and she would turn her attention away from him when she realized she had been._{BG — ART — CODE}

Avaneira is currently hidden

For far too long had she been separated from the bloody inclinations of these lions, sequestered somewhere isolated and peaceful, left to stir in the angry recesses of her own mind and its fleeting, incomprehensible thoughts. But as a call rang out from the Pit, Avaneira was lured there, arriving just in time to see the growing crowd. But one familiar face stuck out between all of them—@Senecae still carried with him the scent of the Oasis, and based on the amount of patchy lions that fought and cheered alongside him, it wasn't too much to assume that he still lead the Oasis. At the very least, Ava couldn't have imagined him as anything but.

Then, as her gaze shifted across the battlefield, she spotted another familiarity among the fold. @Amaroq. She swiftly lowers herself to the ground, hiding among the grasses surrounding the arena, hoping her smaller stature would keep her better-hidden, and that focused onlookers would not stray from the battle at hand.

She wondered, briefly, who Amaroq would be cheering for here. Need it come down to it, Avaneira knew which side she was inclining toward; but, given the distinct smells of the Oasis and the Mire, she had to assume that they would be on opposing sides.

How unfortunate.

a battle in the pit attracted the curious eyes of many, among them elke who had ventured here in hopes of finding a good spar. but sitting down and watching others fight was a good experience too. she looked around the crowd, scanning for a familiar face before noticing both @Leander and @Halimede. oddly, one of the combatants look similar to the patchwork male, as he too wore the same markings. elke quietly made her way through the throng of lions, until she was able to slide beside leander with a smirk on her face. fancy yourself in there? she asked. i heard that makes ladies swoon. her words were loud enough that both can hear what she said. as elke watched on, she realized she had no idea what the two was fighting about, but she didn't care either way.

look like the innocent flower

Despite her uncertain standings, how can Freya not entertain the idea of attending such a challenge? Her current home and her former have come to a head, and she is a curious creature at heart — even when she should leave well enough alone. She waits, long enough that she knows @Leander will be there ahead of her, that she will be protected if it comes to that.

Her approach to the pit is slow and measured, assessing the growing crowd with an appraising gaze and a flick of her ears. Leander stands sentinel between Andal's king on one side and his lover on the other, but it is the third nearby face of @Elke that captures her attention the most. At first, her intrigue is just in knowing whoever lingers with such familiarity, but recognition slowly dawns the longer she looks. A woman grown now, but distinctly identifiable as the cub she had once known.

Freya stiffens and sniffs, her ears leaning back for a moment before she bypasses the group, acting as if she'd never seen them. She singles out the unknown face of @Amaroq, primed and ready and reeking of the Mire, and makes her way casually to his side as if they are old friends. Potentially unwise, considering her current affiliation, but Freya has never been particularly known for her caution. "Mind if I join you?" she asks flippantly, a slight simper flashing across her lips as she offers him a sidelong glance and leans easily onto her haunches — whether he likes it or not.

but be the serpent under't

code by corvus

He who drinks from the deep water
May he know the depths of the well

Corinthian had developed a habit of frequenting the pit like an alcoholic to a tavern. As he catches wind of the commotion involving Caladan’s closest allied pride, he chooses a covert approach. He crouches behind some rubble to block his body, using the crack of light between two large structures near each other to view the challenge. Alaric answers it with a fury, and Corinthian takes note of everyone present. It seems like many of the same faces from the mud-strewn chaos of the war, but it is hard to tell. At present, he doesn’t see any of the ones he fought. As he observes, he begins to wonder just why Andal keeps dogging Ecrosia for their members. Alaric’s enemies must be far and wide, going beyond even just the alleged cub-drowners. Corinthian keeps glancing around him with his good eye, pointed ears swiveling, keeping his wits about him with all the tension in the air and what not.

Corinthian is hiding.

+5 Witness drama between prides The young yet brave cub had come to watch his very first fight, and instead of being afraid of such thing, he was actually very interested. Like if combat was on his blood he never escaped from them, like if chaos and drama between prides was attractive enough for the little monster. He took a seat like if he though himself as an adult even though he was far away even turning one year of age. But it didnt matter, besides his mothers could be nearby. He watched, he learned, taking all he could from his emerald green eyes, eyes cold yet curious. He looked at the other lions, many already around the fight. But he made no efforts to interact, he didnt want to. But a part of him wanted to fight, to dominate, to make someone afraid of him. But he only needed to wait, to wait for someone to looke at him the wrong way, so he had the chance to beat them.

art by Shazaki and code by Shazaki

The grey child followed her father like a shadow, keeping close to his heels as he made his way to the arena. Apparently her uncle wanted a lioness from the Mire, which Léonie thought was dumb. The embers of the previous war were still burning — why go and rekindle them so soon? She kept her opinion to herself though as she took a seat next to @Seneca, not taking his bad eye into consideration. She simply didn’t have enough attention to spare it, not when her focus was immediately grabbed by the battle below. Naturally, she hoped her uncle would wipe the floor with the Mire king, but she’d seen the male defend his throne during the war. He was an absolute bruiser, and she didn’t think he’d go down easily …

coded by flea | artwork by ale-tie

The clanswoman arrived to find @Alaric already in battle with a male who would take one of their members from them. The challenge had met the slate woman's ear with irritation, ire. There seemed to be no end of lions who would seek to stir up relations between prides. Normally, the scots woman would live for such activity, finding purpose in the chaos. But she is weary these days, thinking that she could do with some rest.

But duty called and so she had sped to the pit. A brief glance given to the two Ecrosia members in attendance @Patchouli and @Amaroq. Though the latter seemed almost ready for a fight. Perhaps the better course of action, really. Sharp gaze roved across their former member @Freya, Sláine's brows lifted for a quarter of second, fear gripping her in a flash before she was able to compose herself to stoic disinterest once more. The terrible thought that had flashed through the warrior's mind? Has she come to take my children away? For the four bairns were no longer Freya's, not to the Scottish woman's mind at least.

She moved on, tail swinging behind her as she observed the Andal crowd from a short distance. Sláine wasn't interested in starting a war, but with her chieftain drawn out into a fight not of his own making, she could hardly just sit on the sidelines. Keen, roving stare landed upon a grey striped lioness (@Halimede). The speckled warrior paused before the woman, tilting her skull slightly with an apologetic shrug. "Ye must ken(know) I dae nae like to do this. Bit ye ken(you know) that I must." Sláine would never challenge for a child and sorely disliked the idea of trying to take a woman, but she could not take a man, if only she could!

The battle maiden settled into her defences, making plain her intention to steal the unknown woman.

@Sláine vs. ??
For Halimede / Theft Challenge
Round 0 / 3

code by corvus

As @Halimede comes to join him at her side, Leander feels a comfort wash over him, the Heir allowing his tail to curl around his wife's haunches -- protective and guarded. @Seneca is not too far behind, joining him on his other side and bestowing a rank on Halimede should things turn south. But it is only Alaric and Antares engaged in battle and thus Leander merely observes. @Elke joins them soon after, Leander curious as to what might draw her to a challenge that did not involve the Rainforest.

"I do," he admits, gaze shifting from the fight to the Firnen woman, "but not to woo the ladies," he clarifies with a crooked boyish grin. Not that the thought hadnt' crossed his mind. He notices @Freya enter the scene and brows furrow ever so slightly as he wonders if that might be the wisest of choices. Regardless, the damage is done and the Miroslav would protect her at all cost.

Except it is not Freya that the Mire comes for.

It is Halimede.

Mismatched gaze zeroes in on the challenger, a woman from Ecrosia who stood, readied for battle. With a snarl on his lips, patched male turns on his heels and makes a beeline for @Slaine, picking up speed as he does so. He approaches from her left side, though Leander hardly makes attempts to disguise his approach. As he draws closer, the Heir attempts to snake his large jowls forward and aims to clamp down on the left side of the woman's neck. Simultaneously, Leander attempts to slam his right shoulder into her left.

He is angry -- perhaps as @Alaric had been when he had challenged for Freya during the war. But the difference being, Freya had been a willing participant.

There is much to lose and Leander would be damned if he left The Pit with anything remotely left in his proverbial tank.

@Leander vs. @Sláine
For @Halimede
Round 1 / 2
Hits:

Rolling 7d20: 1 + 12 + 4 + 15 + 6 + 16 + 20

Dodges:

Rolling 5d20: 1 + 12 + 18 + 13 + 5

Luck:

Rolling 5d20: 9 + 16 + 3 + 20 + 11