Hell Hath No Fury Like A Woman Scorned
As the others before him, so too does the grey lion venture toward the Mire, intent on satisfying curiosity. Will Erna's consort retain his reign, or will the challenger dethrone him? Hearing the call doesn't surprise Odhgrimm, it had always seemed a matter of time, but it does nestle a morsel of disgust in the pit of his stomach. Cassandra's voice is undeniably feminine, and the Rike again wonders at the worth of a pride in this realm. Sanctuary, sure, he can acknowledge as he surveys the dense thicket of the jungle as it comes into view. Security? Amaryllis has taught him quickly that nein, there is none of that here.
Caution does not leave him, an ingrained habit after years of practice, stride patient even as a powerful summons reaches across the landscape. Swinging an ear forward with renewed interest, a brow slowly working its' way to perch loftily across the plane of his forehead, the man even takes a moment to pause, then. On the edge of the fields, he casts a sluggish glance around, wondering if he'll spy sleek shapes sneaking toward Ecrosia. Is this not just a squabble for leadership? Is this a raid? Wind drags through his beard, and Odhgrimm breathes deep the fresh air, tasting flowers and herbs.
Not for the first time he thinks of home, limbs beginning to take him forward again, and before long his bulk is engulfed in trees. There's calm about him, a steadiness to his breaths and a looseness in his muscles, but his eyes are vigilant, his senses alert for others. War is not unfamiliar to him. Death no longer bothers him as it did when he was a boy. Pain is not a prospect that unsettles him, nor scars or loss or suffering. The dwindle of their number is the only concern he can acknowledge. His sister inevitably will be in the middle of it, too willful and volatile a creature to ignore the disrespect at her doorstep. Would her children (if they're even alive) follow her?
Commotion becomes louder than the squelch of his many-toed paws, and he's glad for something to drown the dreadful sound. Why anyone would fight for this place, he cannot guess. Weighted, mud caked inside his thighs, on his forearms, the beast pauses again when the bare glimpses of flesh become apparent between the fronds and boughs. Enacting a slight stalk, he moves haltingly, distinctly cat-like with intent to drink greedily whatever details his eyes might provide before he dives in deep. Plentiful are the fights, and though he spies adolescents ripping at each other, the Jarl does not see any young enough to be his nieces and/or nephews. Vaguely, he thinks he'll need to meet them soon, at least to know what they look like.
Focusing more on the cluster near his blood, Odhgrimm hums quietly in seeing the chimera at the losing end of Erna's ferocity. Archetypal. It's easy to guess that one of those lionesses will be killed today, here, soon. Mildly surprising though is the other assortments of battle, most unknown to him but some recognizable, enemies. Lips quivering, he thinks it's a shame he wasn't close enough (never quick enough, his pace is perfect thanks v much) to go after the likes of quite a few that are already engaged. All along he's been compiling his shit list, and still it continues to grow- the likes of @Parvati making the cut.
Screeching as she is (it's Morrigan, then, that big bitch's name?), it's hard not to notice her there, squirreling about in the center of things with close proximity to quite a few of the fights. It's difficult to discern her affiliation, truly, what with her being hysterical and the stench of this land coiling nauseatingly in his nostrils. But the name drop and her general being-in-the-way entices Odhgrimm to get her to move the fuck on if she wasn't going to bleed alongside her comrades. Besides, he kind of wants to be where she's at, in the thick of things yet able to observe easily for advantageous angles.
Intent on bullying her out of his way, the Rike stalks toward her with his neck slung low, ears back. Hoping to come at her quite suddenly, he attempts to shove a shoulder roughly into her, aiming for nothing other than center mass. Jaws loosing a snarl of warning, lips flashing yellowed teeth, and his narrowed eyes spare her a brief amount of attention to witness how she'll react. Need he use more force? Perhaps flash a blade in the girl's direction to get her to run? Odhgrimm is not above it, especially not in a setting like this. If she knows what's good for her, she'll get fucking lost, pronto. This is her only warning.
Odhgrimm vs. @Parvati
Get the Fuck Outta the Way/Minor Maim
Round One of Five
Hits:
Dodges:
Luck:
Caution does not leave him, an ingrained habit after years of practice, stride patient even as a powerful summons reaches across the landscape. Swinging an ear forward with renewed interest, a brow slowly working its' way to perch loftily across the plane of his forehead, the man even takes a moment to pause, then. On the edge of the fields, he casts a sluggish glance around, wondering if he'll spy sleek shapes sneaking toward Ecrosia. Is this not just a squabble for leadership? Is this a raid? Wind drags through his beard, and Odhgrimm breathes deep the fresh air, tasting flowers and herbs.
Not for the first time he thinks of home, limbs beginning to take him forward again, and before long his bulk is engulfed in trees. There's calm about him, a steadiness to his breaths and a looseness in his muscles, but his eyes are vigilant, his senses alert for others. War is not unfamiliar to him. Death no longer bothers him as it did when he was a boy. Pain is not a prospect that unsettles him, nor scars or loss or suffering. The dwindle of their number is the only concern he can acknowledge. His sister inevitably will be in the middle of it, too willful and volatile a creature to ignore the disrespect at her doorstep. Would her children (if they're even alive) follow her?
Commotion becomes louder than the squelch of his many-toed paws, and he's glad for something to drown the dreadful sound. Why anyone would fight for this place, he cannot guess. Weighted, mud caked inside his thighs, on his forearms, the beast pauses again when the bare glimpses of flesh become apparent between the fronds and boughs. Enacting a slight stalk, he moves haltingly, distinctly cat-like with intent to drink greedily whatever details his eyes might provide before he dives in deep. Plentiful are the fights, and though he spies adolescents ripping at each other, the Jarl does not see any young enough to be his nieces and/or nephews. Vaguely, he thinks he'll need to meet them soon, at least to know what they look like.
Focusing more on the cluster near his blood, Odhgrimm hums quietly in seeing the chimera at the losing end of Erna's ferocity. Archetypal. It's easy to guess that one of those lionesses will be killed today, here, soon. Mildly surprising though is the other assortments of battle, most unknown to him but some recognizable, enemies. Lips quivering, he thinks it's a shame he wasn't close enough (never quick enough, his pace is perfect thanks v much) to go after the likes of quite a few that are already engaged. All along he's been compiling his shit list, and still it continues to grow- the likes of @Parvati making the cut.
Screeching as she is (it's Morrigan, then, that big bitch's name?), it's hard not to notice her there, squirreling about in the center of things with close proximity to quite a few of the fights. It's difficult to discern her affiliation, truly, what with her being hysterical and the stench of this land coiling nauseatingly in his nostrils. But the name drop and her general being-in-the-way entices Odhgrimm to get her to move the fuck on if she wasn't going to bleed alongside her comrades. Besides, he kind of wants to be where she's at, in the thick of things yet able to observe easily for advantageous angles.
Intent on bullying her out of his way, the Rike stalks toward her with his neck slung low, ears back. Hoping to come at her quite suddenly, he attempts to shove a shoulder roughly into her, aiming for nothing other than center mass. Jaws loosing a snarl of warning, lips flashing yellowed teeth, and his narrowed eyes spare her a brief amount of attention to witness how she'll react. Need he use more force? Perhaps flash a blade in the girl's direction to get her to run? Odhgrimm is not above it, especially not in a setting like this. If she knows what's good for her, she'll get fucking lost, pronto. This is her only warning.
Get the Fuck Outta the Way/Minor Maim
Round One of Five
Hits:
Rolling 8d20: 5 + 15 + 8 + 3 + 7 + 4 + 17 + 19
Dodges:
Rolling 4d20: 18 + 1 + 16 + 6
Luck:
Rolling 5d20: 5 + 15 + 18 + 7 + 10
NO VICTIM, NO CRIME |  |
table by sentinel / art
