halimede.

It had been a good while since Halimede had stretched her legs and come to the Pit in search of an opponent. Not that anyone could scarcely blame her; she'd arrived back in Amaryllis half alive and barely a wisp of a woman. But now she had eaten, and slept, and lounged about the Oasis enough to drive any lion mad. As the days continued to drawl on, Halimede grew restless, and eased herself from being so incessantly attached to Leander's hip, trusting him enough to not go running off without her again.

She arrived at the Pit in the early morning, before the sun had quite peaked over the distant mountain range and the sky was still awash in a warming gray. The wind was bitter still, causing her to shiver, her coat far more suited for the heat of the desert than for the chill of the north. She slunk around the fringe of the arena, before coming to settle on one of its far sides, waiting to see if there were any other early risers wanting some action.

Halimede vs ???
for spar
o of iii

He shouldn't, and he knows that. But - what fun was there ever in listening to the conscious and acute side of one's brain? Exactly. None. It had only been weeks since his run in with the maned beast of red clay - a month or so even with the boy in the ruins and yet, his body hungers for more. Demands that the penance of flesh be paid every day, and then some. If not paid, then it will fester and infect. Kill from the inside like a disease. Incurable and damning, he is a sick creature that finds nothing more exciting, invigorative and even satisfying than that of the taste of another's blood upon his tongue and teeth upon his flesh. Even within his wounds, the wolf prowls wildly. Vehemently, and hungry upon the hills that clothe her frame in mock security. He is bested by the chilling winds that sauté his flesh in woven, and neat cuts. Breaking apart at the festering wounds and scabs that coil amongst his worldly flesh - and yet, it is still not enough to deter one's sick mind from the thrall of battle. From the promise of flesh.

Vághan wastes little time within his stalking. Prowling amongst the cages of her security and banging upon the walls to rattle the bones within, until suddenly. The thread that keeps him together snaps. With little hesitation the best moves, springing into action as one had done so many times before. Vághan attempts to take the snowy women by surprise, attempting to launch himself upon her unsuspecting hindquarters with unhinged jowls and a reverent desire for blood, blood, blood. Even if he is unsuccessful within his attempts to take her flesh unto his own, he hopes to take her by enough surprise so that she topples to the grounds or at least bends, breaks beneath his weight. The chase has always ben so invigorating, and yet - the kill always awaits at the end.

@Halimede vs Vághan
for spar
i of iii
Hits:

Rolling 7d20: 18 + 16 + 3 + 17 + 11 + 10 + 20

Dodges:

Rolling 4d20: 19 + 9 + 8 + 20

Luck:

Rolling 5d20: 17 + 1 + 6 + 13 + 19

coded by flea + art by dusk

halimede.

@Vághan is upon her before she quite has the chance to react. She feels the blinding white-hot pain of his teeth against the top of her hips, just above the base of her tail. His ambush manages to topple her slightly, but she remains standing, if not a bit dazed and disoriented, lending to deeper puncture wounds where his teeth bore down. “Oh!” she exhales, before turning her upper half around to her own right, extending her right paw outward in an attempt to swipe at his right ear, hoping it would be enough to disengage for just a moment. Just enough for her to turn around. “You can't touch there without offering dinner first.” Despite the rudeness of his sudden attack, Halimede's face is alight with a sprawling grin.

Halimede vs Vághan
for spar
i of iii

Hits:

Rolling 4d20: 9 + 17 + 10 + 5

Dodges:

Rolling 4d20: 3 + 20 + 8 + 1

Luck:

Rolling 5d20: 17 + 18 + 10 + 12 + 3

The world turns. A sickening feature that presents itself as nothing more than opportunity. White hot crimson blisters from beneath his eyelids, an eruption of fireworks as the taste of blood, glorious blood! Tinges the buds upon the tip of his tongue, he nearly weeps from the satisfaction of tasting the flesh of another after having gone so long without dining. He sinks in, like a shark taking the final kill as her soft cry reaches his ears. Ebbing, flowing, reaching depths unto his hellion mind than any could ever breach. It is madness. A palace of darkness he should not dwell within, and yet does so graciously as she allows him.

But repercussion comes quickly within his wake, in a way that is rather... different. Inviting, intoxicating to his mind. He is lustfully entranced within the way her words taunt, tinge upon the corners of too suggestive for a nature as these. It buffers the beast for a moment, just long enough to feel the sharp talons come inwards like a reprimanding mother to her child. Perhaps, harsher than the tone of a tongue though as her claws smack heavily against his upper temple. Vághan disarms, eyes narrowing as a sickly smile presses upon the corners of his lips. You would make a fine dinner. He's lost, entranced within her movements. Disengaged and taken down like a siren to a sailor, it is unfair, unruly as they come to meet one another in a fashion that isnt quite eye to eye but close enough for his comfort.

Vághan hisses, snake like and serpentine as his body moves against the clay coloration of the horizons. The beast surges forward with out-stretched arms attempting to envelope what he can of her frame in a death-like hug. Hoping, wishing, waiting - wanting perhaps even to allow his talons to seek purchase on some form of flesh that precedents him as lucky enough to get some sort of delight from this. If not a meal, perhaps a snack?

@Halimede vs Vághan
for spar
ii of iii
Hits:

Rolling 7d20: 20 + 3 + 10 + 6 + 2 + 5 + 11

Dodges:

Rolling 4d20: 9 + 6 + 8 + 3

Luck:

Rolling 5d20: 13 + 14 + 17 + 10 + 3

coded by flea + art by dusk

halimede.

Halimede had seen the evils of the world. She'd watched babes culled from their mother's bellies, fresh-faced recruits sacrificed for the sake of some sort of dark magic that did not exist. She had watched as ambition and desire wear down upon the one she loved, and then eventually wrench him away from her, rendered battered and razed, nameless in the wake of all he sought to accomplish. Everything he'd done, wasted. By comparison, @Vághan's sneak attack seemed like child's play.

That did not discount his strength, however, and Halimede was sorely reminded just how out of practice she was.

You would make a fine dinner, he rumbles, and Halimede is unsure if he was flirting with her or threatening her. One was far more desirable than the other, but surprisingly, it wasn't the first time Halimede had been the potential victim of cannibalism. She realizes not that her turn was perhaps not ideal compared to simply running away, as he reaches forward and pulls her into a fierce hug of sorts. His claws find purchase on her right shoulder, pulling forward, painfully and awkwardly. Her teeth grit, and rendered in such an unstable and stretched position, she can only attempt to twist her head, and latch her jaws on his extended forelimb.

Halimede vs Vághan
for spar
ii of iii

Hits:

Rolling 4d20: 14 + 9 + 4 + 5

Dodges:

Rolling 4d20: 4 + 5 + 10 + 11

Luck:

Rolling 5d20: 6 + 2 + 20 + 12 + 15

Since when had the cool and condescend creation come to the reckoning of royal divinity. She makes him feel alive. Erupt and heavy within the bellowing caverns of growling tectonic plates, he is molten lava as she acts as the opposing force to trigger his destruction. It is a different feeling, one not quite familiar to his stature. Yet - not quite the same as that he shared with Olive within the caverns only mere weeks before. Confusion, perhaps even sickening intrigue? He decides easily, quickly within his mind as she struggles, fights against his will - he does not want to eat her. Well, a little nibble wouldn't hurt would it? It is what she had called for after all, though, he is probably not what she expects. Wants even as their battle purges the corners of sentient thoughts and a dark imagination.

As talons purge the plushness of skin, he comes to realize quickly that this - is the most intimate he has ever been with anyone. Within the throes of battle is where he felt alive, beneath the feel of teeth, bone, and blood - he ignited like a fire that could not be quenched. It is reckless. Sure to bend him unto his downfall in the coming days - or perhaps now.

It is the feeling of teeth upon flesh that wrench the beast from his reckless thoughts. Painful, and exhausting. The weight of his own body comes to be more than he can harbor with purpose without exhausting himself. Even within the winter months - rapid movements in short intervals proved to be detrimental to his rather fluffy frame. His breath seems to eradicate near her ears in hot bursts, ruff grunts and sweating pants as the beast squeezes his eyes tight and...falls. Hind quarters collecting upon the dust as the beast holds tight, too tight almost - as if she were to dissipate between his very eyes if he were to let go. As if this would all turn into some sick imaginative scene to mull over and reprimand later within the depths of his lair.

In a final ditch attempt, Vághan would attempt to yank her frame forwards in his fall. Perhaps trying to flip her, or even startle her in enough of a way that he can scramble away to declare penance - the ending of the quarrel. Whatever comes first he will take, it no longer matters anymore. He had gotten his pound of flesh, now - he wants her name.


{@Halimede} vs {Vághan}
for {spar}
{iii} of iii
Hits:

Rolling 7d20: 15 + 2 + 11 + 18 + 8 + 6 + 16

Dodges:

Rolling 4d20: 15 + 6 + 4 + 10

Luck:

Rolling 5d20: 16 + 6 + 19 + 9 + 3

halimede.

There is something rumbling deep within him that is different than the rest. Her other spars in the days prior had been with lions keen on keeping themselves and her safe, withholding their strength, withdrawing the brunt of their attacks at the last second as not to rend and maim. But @Vághan was different. There was a purpose in each of his rough movements, a glint in his eyes that hinted to something far more dangerous, machinating. Halimede grit her teeth, biting back the excitement that lulled in her chest, even as she felt his weight nearly crushing. Even she was not so bold as to assume she could win against every opponent.

This was one of the harder fights she'd had in a long time.

And then, he falls.

Whether it is purposeful or due to exhaustion, it is enough of a surprise to Halimede that she is easily wrenched along with him. Her eyes fling wide and wild with surprise, the feeling of her paws slipping out from underneath her almost weightless. And she can do nothing now except to attempt to bite down on his leg harder, hoping to hold on for dear life, and perhaps grabbing it harder than she might have intended to in what was supposed to be a harmless spar.

Halimede vs Vághan
for spar
iii of iii

Hits:

Rolling 4d20: 5 + 2 + 18 + 12

Dodges:

Rolling 4d20: 1 + 6 + 10 + 8

Luck:

Rolling 5d20: 16 + 17 + 19 + 4 + 14

@Vághan VS. @Halimede FOR Spar
— RESULTS —

Vághan Hits: 5+2+4=11
Vághan Dodges: 2+0+1=3

Halimede Hits: 1+2+2=5
Halimede Dodges: 1+1+0=2

Vághan Successful Hits: 9
Halimede Successful Hits: 2

Vághan HAS WON THE CHALLENGE FOR Spar!

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.

He is a raging war machine. Cemented in the clasp of divine violence, and bore from the depths of hell itself. Moving in tandem with her, they find themself in their own violent tango. Step, slide, dip - it is rehearsed. Poorly, and yet it is their own synchronized dancing match as she mirrors his features. The dirt gathers beneath his frame, grinding his frame unto the clay red as he stumbles back with a pained yowl as vagrant and hungry teeth nurse his wound. Vehement and angry, the creature yanks back. Willing the woman to release his fore-arm with a menacing rip as flesh exposes itself unto the wild world. He settles - heaving within heavy breaths as crimson dribbles from the corners of his frame Vághan peers up unto the eyes of the fallen angel. Narrowed and taut brows scorn in mischievous interest.

You would make a fine dinner. It is a broken record on repeat as soiled elbows press unto the clay grounds to pull him up. It is here he can truly appreciate the difference within their size, their beings. I take you to dinner sometime. Even if she had failed in besting the beast, she had been worthy. An opponent that he would gladly court in any other day from here. What is a neved? English is still a strange language upon his tongue, he finds himself slipping unto his mother tongue far too easily in quaint conversations. He will wait before presenting himself as one of her kind.

@Halimede

coded by flea + art by dusk

halimede.

It never wounded Halimede's pride to lose a battle. She'd been born runty and weak, an unkempt fire bowling over the other orphans simply to feel the weightlessness of being on top. Her ambitions had been culled early, slashed to shit by those orphan-collectors who sought nothing but that same raw power, fleeting ignorance. It was easier to fight monsters than it was to fight lions. Halimede was very good at one. The other, she was still learning. She did not share one common enemy with everyone now. Here, there were monsters that hid among them like lions.

She pulled away from the battle the loser, breathless and bating. But @Vághan had not escaped completely scathed, and she hoped with some girlish whimsy that he'd have some wounds to lick and think of her. You would make a fine dinner, he announces, and it raises a single brow on Halimede's expression. “I'm flattered you think so,” she crooned, her surprised face turning into something more amused, “though, I must warn you, I'm a picky date.” In fact, she would expect nothing less but the finest, most tender buffalo. Or antelope. Both, perhaps, if she were feeling particularly choosy.

She wasn't sure what neved meant, but decided to settle on answering what all it could mean. After all, he'd given her no reason not to introduce herself. It was in good nature to exchange names between spitting each other's fur out of their mouths. “I'm Halimede, of the Oasis.”