Was she deserving of his ire? Absolutely. A point that she recognized with ease. You mean to say that you do not enjoy hearing conversations that one might not say if they knew you were around? she asks as he turns to leave. Apparently not at all interested in her now that he has found her, located her and found her to be little to his liking. Perhaps if he weren't as old as Alaric she might have found insult to this but there would be no reason to panic. Their reasons for fighting for me are vastly different. Alaric desires the number and the loyalty, while the other values my company and if it be only for my looks? Then good for him. Even if his feigned interest wasn't fake, she might've grown to like @Branco even if he had uncovered her spot. Ain't nobody was going to make her change her ways. Besides, it wasn't as though she had anyone down in The Pit aside from Antares that would give a rats ass if she showed or not. — What did you expect? — Zelda has been LOCATED but refuses to move.

^{MANIP BY YUMPY !}

@Violarum departs in a hurry, leaving Fallon to wonder where he might be off to in such a rush.

In the end, she tracks the mass exodus of lions from the Mire to The Pit though her husband's scent remains strangely absent from the odours that she is able to pick up. Though there is a mass of bodies congregated here, none are remotely familiar. Or at least, there is no one here that Fallon could mach up to and ask what was going on.

Because there certainly were things happening and the lithe figurine knew that tensions were mounting but the cause would remain a mystery.

There is also no Violarum to be found, the Salem woman concerned since she would have suspected that such a challenge would draw her husband's attention. Still, she seats herself a little ways off, observing and curious to see how this may all pan out.

they made you into a weapon
and told you to find peace

THE BLOOD ON MY TEETH
BEGINS TO TASTE LIKE A POEM,
LIKE RELIGION -
LIKE THE WAY YOU LOOK AT ME

Amaroq stands as a sentinal, there, his crimson physique by the gloaming sidelines, quietly observing the scene unfolding before him. Another fight breaks out between @Sláine and one of the other Andal lions (another large piebald male), and Amaroq's ears will swivel forward almost aggressively, his jaws gritting together, the flashing of great, pale fangs buried in his dark half-sneer. He feels like he should join in on the fray, to make his own claim and steal someone, and yet Amaroq witholds for the time being, suddenly feeling the presence of another female @Freya shashay towards him.

Her blue-tinted flesh shimmers like a gilded lake, sultry and seductive navy against the rolling curves of silver, and for a moment Amaroq is captivated by the unique striking patterns on her silk fur. She asks to sit beside him, although the scent radiating off her is that of Andal. He almost didn't know how to compose himself, whether to claim her right then and there, or be a gentlemen and offer the beautiful woman a conversation. In truth, he was terrible at small talk. "Sure," Amaroq's voice is dark, husky, his expression that of seriousness. "But only if you give me your name." He figures he can sweep her off her feet, lure her first without even so lifting a paw. How charming was he.

Art © Aurora

The grey thing does not answer in words or moves more than the shake of her head; and Yrsa crinkles her little nose with a sparked ire, her tongue running across needle teeth. No? Certainly no one was here that did not cheer for at least one combatant. Perhaps she did not want Yrsa to speak? Pitiable. Yrsa spent enough time in the quiet alone, in the mud, in the reeds, listening to the toads croak and the birds bicker their mornings away.

She grunts at the clueless look on the girl's face. It really is quite pretty, but at the moment it looks dumbed up and mucked by a naivety that can't go ignored. The bear's cheeks dimple with the weight of a scowl, her ears flattened against her head.

Maybe she was... un-hearing? What had Vater said... selective hearing? Maybe she had that.

A sharp exhale, she pounces toward @Léonie sideways, her tuft-tail high and spine curled, hackles spiked. "Wem juh-" a cough, she clears her throat, glares at the dumbed little thing for making her use her words. Ah! Perhaps that was it! Selective hearing indeed, some did not respond well to that tongue, the coldness, the roughness of it.

"You!" she piped, and jutted her chin to the piebald male rounding the clawful dance with Vater. "Like him? Vater wins, ja. That spotty one gets... schnitt." Cut. Sliced. Torn to pieces. Yrsa grins wide and sharp, the royal depths of her eyes swarming with unsettled choler.

+5 attend a Challenge +5 Sing a song or serenade someone Kinki was slowly feeling better and better, but still taking her time. Time to accept and remember that as the world wasn't only a dark, cruel place. It was bit it Alps had its pretty things to count. Coming herself from a cruel start in life she should have revenge and hate on her heart. Bit she didn't. She had no reasons to be, she had a new and much better family , lions who did love her and lions she did love, beside those who also called the Mire their pride. Like an extended family on the girls eyes. The fleshly named Barony arrived to already see some fights taking place. Bit one in particular made her...feel uneasy. Her own mother was into a fight against a male for reasons she didn't know. But whatever they were she felt extremely anxious. But she needed to reuse in her, she was a tough warrior. Faith. Even if her faith wasn't in a high level right now. Go go!!! Mother! You are the best and nothing will stop you!!" She sang happy and throwing any doubt away.

Stock by

Hm. Léonie’s response seemed to annoy the other child, if her deepening scowl was any indication of her mood. She wondered why she had even attempted to engage her at all. Surely she could pick out the scent she wore — a dry, arid smell of the Oasis stuck to her grey coat, identifying her as an enemy of the Mire. Perhaps, Léonie considered then, what she had said had actually been a taunt.

The glare that followed a cough did nothing to turn her mind away from her blooming doubts regarding the girl with the amethyst eyes. Rude. That curious gleam in Léonie’s hazel gaze flickered like a dimming flame as her own interest in the Mire cub visibly wilted …

Before it could sputter out completely, a pointed “You!” caused her spotted ears to cup on her head. Léonie regarded her with less care, her expression more guarded as she glanced her way. But the girl directed her attention to the battle below and spoke rather clumsily of it and her Vater, the “spotty one”.

Léonie didn’t need much more than that to figure it out.

“My uncle,” she informed the pale cub, who she now assumed was a princess of the Mire, seeing as how her dad was the king and all. “My Vater,” she added, nodding over her shoulder at the spotted beast beside her. She was a princess too — not that she normally bragged about it. Mostly, she distrusted the other cub’s now maddening grin, but maybe the presence of the Oasis king would temper whatever insanity was making her smile like that …

And too think, she’d looked so normal and cool.

@Yrsa

coded by flea | artwork by ale-tie

this wasn't exactly his idea of fun.

the teeth in his mouth did damage, but still he did not relinquish his grip. still he held fast, attempting to lock his jaw, to apply as much force as he could. antares' teeth tore through the tip of his tongue and blood floods his mouth, leading to both of them all but coughing in to eachother. how sexy.

with muffled, wet snarls he attempted to give his head a bit of a shake, to sink his teeth deeper in to the tender nose of his opponent.

and then there is a shift, a shove, and alaric is forced back. he all but scrambles to keep his back legs under him, giving in to the application of pressure. rather than falling back he allows his weight to drop down, attempting to draw his claws back towards the ground and once again spread his weight over all four legs. it is a last ditch effort to force the young pup to back the fuck off, because he doesn't know how much longer he can tolerate the teeth in his mouth.

dropping back to the ground to stop himself from falling had, if anything, worsened the cuts in his mouth and on the bottom of his jaw, and he was beginning to think that this was a whole lot of hassle for one pretty little lioness.



Alaric vs. @Antares
for Zelda
Round 3 / 3
Hits:

Rolling 9d20: 14 + 2 + 1 + 19 + 10 + 20 + 17 + 3 + 6

Dodges:

Rolling 4d20: 17 + 12 + 13 + 6

Luck:

Rolling 5d20: 5 + 9 + 6 + 4 + 3

code by corvus

they half-choke on their own blood, passing it between them, and annie has a wild moment where he grins and wants to laugh. if his jaw was free he might have made a joke: hot. but his opponent twitches his head, wiggling it slightly, and fangs sink deeper into his tender nose. frustrated, annie shifts his own grip, intending to jerk back abruptly with his hold on alaric's lower jaw, hoping to jar the muscles and irritate him further, too. before they go very far, the mire king puts an end to it all. rather than buckling under antares' attempts, he suddenly drops his weight down, his forepaws sliding down the miroslav's shoulders and across the fronts of them, claws shredding the skin into ribbons. antares uses alaric's momentum of going down to relinquish the hold on his jaw, presuming his opponent to do the same, and as they both fall towards the earth with alaric's last move, antares aims to get one last hit in. his left forepaw flexes, arcing towards his opponent's face in an attempt to claw the man's cheek with a parting blow. the youth isn't a fool - he knows the fight is over. and it's not feeling like he stands on top. antares v @Alaric for zelda 3/3 Hits: Rolling 6d20: 7 + 19 + 16 + 2 + 18 + 8 Dodges: Rolling 4d20: 15 + 20 + 3 + 9 Luck: Rolling 5d20: 20 + 17 + 13 + 16 + 10

code // art // do not use without permission

Trouble, once it started, seemed to have a peculiar habit of not wanting to end. It seemed that there were still those who wanted to take yet more from the Mire. She'd been returning from a hunt when she heard the challenge ring out, a frustrated snarl falling from her lips as she promptly rushed to deposit the antelope haunch in her jaws within their cache before she went racing towards the pit. Sure, it sounded like a simple enough dispute, but hadn't that also been the case last time, right before utter chaos had erupted? She needed to see what was happening.

By the time she arrives, she can already tell that the battle is just about wrapping up, Alaric furiously entangled with a member of the piebald trio from the Oasis. It is not the only conflict within the Pit, however, as another piebald was currently trading blows with her blue pridemate, Slaine, for who knew what reason. Things didn't seem out of control yet, but for how long would that last?

@Fallon was a fairly unfamiliar face to the huntress, but the scent of the Mire clung to her pelt, so Myra stalked over to stand alongside her, slitted pupils maintaining a careful watch over the scene before them. "How are things looking?" Her voice was low and calm, but her muscles were noticeably tensed, prepared to leap in for a fight of her own at the first indication that she should do so.

+5 Observe a fight

ART COPYRIGHT IRISH

halimede.

How soon would allies of both sides and those seeking entertainment join them from the spectators' stands. Halimede's eyes quickly find @Elke as she approaches, swift to shack up beside @Leander's only remaining free space. Perhaps if she hadn't already met and engaged in battle with Elke before, she might have been more offended of a stranger hanging around her mate in such a tense time; but there were far more important things than to fret about such silly antics. In fact, Halimede had far more pressing things to worry about. Just as she opened her mouth to respond to @Seneca's promotion (no doubt some sort of jab or quip about his scarred eye), @Sláine called out for her. And not in a sort of oh this girl's hot I want her as mine way, and more of a eye for an eye way. That was far less fun, and something Halimede wouldn't quite stand for.

Neither would Leander, it seemed, and Halimede had never seen a more glorious sight than watching him fling himself into battle for her sake.

And though she stood there dumbfounded for a moment, the realization that Seneca had given her the power to defend herself quickly took hold, and Halimede was quick to race after her husband. Leander approaches her from the left with full force, and Hali thinks better than to go to her right, just in case she were to fall or slip from the impact. Rather, she approaches Sláine head-on, rushing toward the woman after her mate and, upon approach, throws her front paws into the air and attempts to hook them just behind either side of the other lioness' ears and rake downward.

Halimede & Leander vs Sláine
for Halimede
i of iii

Hits:

Rolling 4d20: 18 + 13 + 16 + 17

Dodges:

Rolling 4d20: 6 + 19 + 1 + 18

Luck:

Rolling 5d20: 16 + 8 + 12 + 11 + 19