we keep all the hurt you never know

his muzzle is frayed — nose no doubt going to be a bitch to deal with later. aki gets to leave a mark on him.

mórekr rewards him by slamming the broken dove in the snow. blizzard raging onwards around them; worsening with the brawl enough that if not for their close proximity it would have been oh-so-easy to simply disappear in the backdrop.

neither have fleeing on their mind.

aki for reasons that differ from mórekr.

the twist works, yet the cling of aki (and he, who does not let go, either), enables the both of them to go flying into a heap of snow. a cloud erupts around them — aggressively they roll, tangled in a fight to maintain control, until mórekr finally attempts the halt of their tango, too.

unlike aki’s wishes, mórekr keeps his position on top.

mórekr tries to lean his hindquarters over aki’s — attempting to pin and disable his legs. his forearms meanwhile braced on either side of the broken dove. mouth open, grasping heavy breaths with a bloodied face, yet the triumphant taunt remains.

mórekr vs. @fálki
for death
five of seven
attacks

Rolling 8d20: 7 + 1 + 19 + 16 + 8 + 20 + 10 + 14

dodges

Rolling 4d20: 5 + 10 + 7 + 17

luck

Rolling 5d20: 11 + 7 + 4 + 19 + 15

maybe we exist to bleed It’s a flurry and tangle of limbs, but momentum and perhaps bulk win out - Mórekr ends up on top, and as Fálki slams into the ground and the snow disperses underneath him, his skull kicks back into something hard and sharp. A rock, hidden by the ice. For a second the beast sees only white - purer than snow, more brilliant and brighter. When that second passes, and he blinks blearly up, all he sees is a dark, smirking face. This isn’t over yet. Fálki squirms, attempting to use his forelimbs to grapple and grip Mórekr’s shoulders, wanting to tear his flesh to shreds. His back legs buck and kick, pinned by the heavy lion but refusing to give in, unable to concede defeat even as it stares him in the face, laughing at him. He pushes upwards, trying to snap his fangs into Mórekr’s mane and throat, a desperate and foolish thing. But he cannot give up, or submit - if the Rike wants this done, he’ll have to kill him. Fálki might thank him for it. Fálki v @Mórekr Death Match VI / VII Hits: Rolling 6d20: 17 + 11 + 20 + 2 + 16 + 19 Dodges: Rolling 4d20: 8 + 11 + 5 + 7 Luck: Rolling 5d20: 14 + 15 + 5 + 12 + 7 maybe we exist to burn

code // art // do not use without permission

we keep all the hurt you never know

grabbling claws seek purchase around him again — entwining the two males in an embrace, and yet mórekr would try halting aki before he latched too tightly. whilst lacerations burn on both shoulders, the dark male tries to place his right paw overtop of aki’s throat — wanting to keep the man buried below and unable to snatch his throat as he so desperately tries to. fangs would instead find his inner leg. chin tucks towards his curly mane, tail lashing behind him.

he wants to keep the majority of his weight in his hindquarters still, all in his tries of pinning the broken dove in place. whatever thrashing kicks would leave bruising and scraps, but he would ride it out — for now. you can’t kill me.

mórekr vs. @fálki
for death
six of seven
attacks

Rolling 8d20: 6 + 13 + 20 + 3 + 10 + 14 + 8 + 2

dodges

Rolling 4d20: 20 + 11 + 5 + 1

luck

Rolling 5d20: 6 + 11 + 3 + 13 + 5

maybe we exist to bleed Mórekr’s paw slips under his chin while Falki snaps for the brute’s face. His claws dig into dark fur, into skin, and he tries to use that leverage to force himself up. The world spins around Mórekr’s snarling, smug face. He doesn’t stop struggling, though whether it’s stubbornness or instinct now, it’s impossible to tell. He accepts death has come to claim him, that no matter how much better a fighter he might be than Aki Sigrun, he still cannot beat Mórekr. It wasn’t a mistake, however. If anyone should kill him, perhaps it is fitting that it’s him. Perhaps, if there is an afterlife, he will be with his parents and brother, and they will not hate him. If forgiveness means dying too… so be it. Falki doesn’t notice his thrashing grow weaker, his claws grip rather than dig in. Unseen to the lion on the ground is the slowly growing pool of scarlet, stark and vibrant against the snow below. The storm and sky and snow go hazy, blurry. All of his focus is on hurting the Rike as much as he can while his life drains away, and glaring up at him for as long as he possibly can. Stubborn, furious to the end. Fálki v @Mórekr Death Match VII / VII Hits: Rolling 6d20: 10 + 3 + 4 + 7 + 16 + 19 Dodges: Rolling 4d20: 5 + 15 + 19 + 6 Luck: Rolling 5d20: 6 + 9 + 10 + 7 + 2 maybe we exist to burn

code // art // do not use without permission

we keep all the hurt you never know

it all comes to this climax — the curtains would violently close with a gust of wind, much like the raging blizzard around them, leaving the audience forever questioning the events that occurred after.

for mórekr, it is a familiar nightmare that he stares down upon. aki grows weak — he tries, oh does he ever try to fight back, but there is eventually little more than a desperate hold. it is happening all over again. perhaps that is why there is a give to his snarl, to the smugness that rounds his cheeks.

in its place is mórekr rike at a naive age — a boy that’d been deeply in love, who felt weak against the turbulence of his family, and knew that one aki sigrún would not turn against his own.

he tries pressing firm against the broken dove. a once angel with wings that have long ago been ripped, shredded, cracked and stolen by a monster. by him.

“i told you before,” he starts, leaning from his perch on aki’s hindlegs and instead trying to place his face close to aki’s. “‘next time, it will be your life’.” mórekr rike left that night, aki barely clinging to life. he had no idea if he’d even survived, up until this point.

and that night, he’d let him free.

let him hate.

let him be one with his family and their vitriol targeting of the rike.

they fit into their boxes.

it’d been mórekr’s parting gift.

two boys were shattered.

two boys put back together again.

mórekr has had missing pieces ever since.

“you are mine.”

mórekr vs. @fálki
for death
seven of seven
attacks

Rolling 8d20: 5 + 13 + 16 + 2 + 14 + 20 + 17 + 3

dodges

Rolling 4d20: 6 + 1 + 18 + 3

luck

Rolling 5d20: 19 + 16 + 3 + 13 + 7

@fálki VS. @mórekr FOR death
— RESULTS —

Falki Hits: 3 + 1 + 3 + 3 + 2 + 5 + 2 = 19
Falki Dodges: 3 + 1 + 2 + 2 + 1 + 1 + 2 = 12

Morekr Hits: 5 + 4 + 6 + 5 + 4 + 3 + 5 + 1 luck = 33
Morekr Dodges: 3 + 2 + 2 + 2 + 1 + 2 + 1 = 13

Falki Successful Hits: 6
Morekr Successful Hits: 21

MOREKR HAS WON THE CHALLENGE FOR DEATH!

Please allow the challengers to respond to the fight results first. As per the site rules, if 3 days go by without a post from the challenger(s), they can be skipped. Whichever comes first! Any posts made before this will be removed, unless you are posting to another fight.

---

WOUNDED ROLL

performed on discord by @Squid

If they live, Falki is automatically WOUNDED for losing!

Morekr Wounded Roll: 1d5 = 1

Morekr is NOT WOUNDED!

Profiles will be adjusted to reflect the wounded rolls, which, if received, reduce the character’s hits and dodges by -1 for an standardized amount of time. Any wounded rolls received from this fight are considered healed as of 08/19, and are logged in the wounded log. Once healed, post in Trade & Dice Updates to have your dice returned to normal.

maybe we exist to bleed The pressure begins to force his throat closed. Between gasping for every breath and the thudding, endless pain blooming in the back of his skull, Falki is useless. And still he glares, determined to hold the Rike’s gaze to the very end. But there is no panic, no desperate scrambling or final, thrashing attempts to free himself. Despite knowing there is nothing but hatred and anger glaring back at him, and it will do nothing to the cold, rotten heart in Mórekr’s chest, he cannot help but throw one final barb as the darkness begins to creep in from the corners of his vision. "Hrafn." A name once used in love, whispered in the middle of the night, both endearment and a secret, safe name that none but the two of them knew. Raven. His raven. Now it sounds like a curse, bitter and gasped out between weak lips. If there’s a reply, Falki is deaf to it. The last of his strength fades and without air to breathe, his body quickly surrenders to the dark. He doesn't fight it. He welcomes it. Exit. maybe we exist to burn

code // art // do not use without permission

we keep all the hurt you never know

hrafn.

mórekr remembers that name sung in a sweet tone — tender affection raw with private, forbidden laughter and moonlit lake dips. with vitriol it is spit into this world, where it would sit on his snow-flaked skin like gasoline.

the bitter truth of the rotten heart that beats — slow at first, and now fast — is that he halts in none of his actions. he still presses, grinding against a bloodied blonde mane. aki’s head injury seeps into the white backdrop. mórekr imagines him on a bed of red roses.

it is only when the light fades from blue, ocean eyes that it welds into his throat. such panic alight as his hand flings away from his throat — burnt.

“aki?” re-winding into place, it brings them back when he’d seen them, when he’d blamed the rage of everything on his once angel.

wake. wake. wake.

a blood-sodden nose nudges his cheek.

there is no reaction.

mórekr neglects checking for his breath, or for his heart. he acts swift, shifting off the battered and zombie of a man with haste. sore body screaming it’s aches against the blizzard whipping curly hair and freezing him to the bone.

aki would die. frozen in place.

he looks almost peaceful like this.

mórekr would not have it.

with lasting strength, he heaves the broken dove upwards, maneuvering him painfully until at last he has him on his shoulders and drags the boy towards the cave.

/ exit with fálki to I BURNED YOUR WORLD AWAY