sunt mala quae libas, ipse venena bibas the garden bites, Blood springs to his tongue, winding between teeth and gum, but a blunt eruption of pain follows soon after his right jawbone as the lioness bows her head and rams it into him. Teeth click together sickeningly, a chipped tooth or two surely waiting for him at the end of it. He swallows blood like a stiff drink. Corinthian shuffles backwards one step half from the shock of it and half as a natural attempt to create space with which to think, hind legs still bent into a squat. He lowers his right forearm at the same moment as he lifts his left, muscles churning as he pivots. Her own claws burn down his shoulder, leaving trails of pink flesh that would be leaking blood as if to snow. With a snarl roiled in his throat. Corinthian aims to swing his left forepaw and claws with full force into her face to slap it away from him, even as his elbow is still bent within inches of his body,. No sooner in his attempt did he then also attempt to bow his head and aim to ram it the side of her neck with the intention to knock the wind out of her. The idea being that while she was still recovering from the slap he could catch her off guard. All high hopes, of course, considering the young soldier knew when he was fighting a veteran. Using his hind legs to propel himself, he kept his left forepaw paced to catch him and recover balance. Tail whipping to the side as his weight shifts rapidly, his hips like gimbles to keep him solid. @Corinthian vs. @Valkravn Minor Maim (tbd) Round 2 / 5 Hits: Rolling 5d20: 10 + 20 + 8 + 17 + 14 Dodges: Rolling 5d20: 16 + 4 + 17 + 1 + 18 Luck: Rolling 5d20: 16 + 10 + 19 + 4 + 14

A sharp, jarring pain descends down from Leander's cheek to the top of his neck -- strands of his mane pulled as @Brynja lowers her paw to inflict as much damage as she could muster. And though tomorrow he will nurse the lacerations with great dismay, the Miroslav is driven forth by the adrenalin that course fiercely through his veins. There is little time for self-preservation and his father had always advocated for a battle style that left nothing in doubt.

His shoulder charge makes contact with the front of his opponent's chest, the impact jolting his large bones and felt down his spine. He delights in the slam, relishes the closeness and heat of battle. The Andal Heir would aim to take advantage of the woman's lifted right paw, and once again, aims to ram his body forward though this time, he hopes to ram his left shoulder into the left side of Brynja's chest, attempting to unbalance her with his brutish weight.

With blood on his tongue, Leander can hear a distinct ringing in his ear -- it is the wild call of violence that call his name. As he attempts to draw near once again, the Miroslav now attempts to seek purchase of the left side of the base of the lioness' neck with his jaws.

@Leander vs @Brynja
For @Freya
2 / 3

Hits:

Rolling 7d20: 9 + 14 + 2 + 17 + 18 + 8 + 20

Dodges:

Rolling 5d20: 10 + 19 + 6 + 11 + 2

Luck:

Rolling 5d20: 5 + 3 + 13 + 15 + 1

IMAGE COPYRIGHT NESLA

Brynja

She has done what work she can with her paw she feels and attempts to loosen her grip, let her right paw fall towards the ground freely. But it is not within time to give her full balance against his shove. The brute force hurt, the area already tender, but more so it causes her to rock to her left side. She might of stumbled fully over it his teeth did not then catch the left side of her neck, lower and near the scruff. The skin broke, his teeth puncturing and gripping the looser skin which was immediately pulled taught, painful yowl wretched from her lungs. She brought her right paw, barely able to use it to balance anyways, back up and reached forwards. She aimed to curve it behind his right forelimb and attempted to dig her claws into his right armpit.

@Leander vs. Brynja
For @Freya
Round 3 / 3
Hits:

Rolling 7d20: 14 + 11 + 1 + 15 + 3 + 19 + 9

Dodges:

Rolling 5d20: 13 + 15 + 19 + 1 + 3

Luck:

Rolling 5d20: 16 + 8 + 18 + 4 + 5

He can feel the battle drawing to a close and though he would never admit it, @Brynja had not been the pushover that Leander had been hoping for. He had aspirations of continuing to engage in battle -- continue to do what he could to be a thorn to the side of the Mire. Still, he had a bit more left in the tank and the Miroslav would not rest until he saw this through to the very end, impassioned as he was.

Teeth slices through fresh and hot crimson blood seeps onto his waiting tongue, Leander relishing in the warm metallic taste. He takes hold and with a dogged determination, the Andal Heir aims to push his weight forward and over, hoping to forcefully take Brynja down to the ground with him on top.

His opponent does not take rest either, the undeniable sting of her claws digging and slicing into the tender flesh of his elbow drawing a pained snarl from the Miroslav. He instinctively pulls his right forelimb away, her claws leaving deep and sizeable lacerations on the back of his limb. With gritted teeth and doing his best to ignore the fierce pain coursing through his leg, Leander aims to swing his right forelimb over the back of the Mire woman, hoping to use this move to assist in his attempted takedown.

Blood seeps from the fresh wounds on his cheek and his limbs, painting his white coat a bright red -- not unlike his fiery mane.

@Leander vs @Brynja
For @Freya
3 / 3

Hits:

Rolling 7d20: 20 + 14 + 15 + 13 + 12 + 11 + 1

Dodges:

Rolling 5d20: 11 + 7 + 16 + 5 + 10

Luck:

Rolling 5d20: 17 + 12 + 19 + 13 + 18

IMAGE COPYRIGHT NESLA

He had spent time away from the family to really grow into himself, initially it had been what he needed at the time, but the young Sigrun would always belong to Amaryllis and to them. His family. And so it seemed only fitting that the call for a challenge would resound in the air the very moment his paws touched familiar soil once more. Immediately he was drawn like a moth to the flame and as he crossed over mire borders and moved further into the murky landscape it was only then that the youth realized the absolute mayhem that had broken out across the territory. It was clear that the Sigrun were here to fight and he didn't have any intentions of being left out! Pushing past the bodies that weren't busy fighting Ragnar made his way over to @Jökull, standing alongside his brother he would glance outward at the fray once more. "Keep your eyes peeled, as soon as more bodies show up we jump in." He murmurs, trying to ignore the elephant in the room which was the fact that he was back as if he had never been gone to begin with.

ART COPYRIGHT IRISH

a sharp tug on the left side of ulla's neck caused her to growl in pain. myra's claws had dug in, creating puncture wounds that would've been fatal if she had been any bigger. but it was only painful and distracting. by now, ulla was stuck in this posiiton until myra lets go of her neck. the snarl from her opponent ricocheted off of her own ears. ulla didn't know if she, too, snarled back, for she had not been able to successfully pierce myra's eyes but instead bit into her right cheek. the sigrun woman was hoping she could take one out like last time. however, ulla's claws did do some damage, and that was an effort that caused ulla's mind to hurl with adrenaline again. but with ulla attempting to keep her grip onto myra with her own fangs, she had no way of dodging her next attack. she felt pain and red upon her right eye. for a moment, her vision was blank, saturated in the color of blood. and yet, despite the pain and copious amount of blood, ulla decided to attack once more. with her free paw, she attempted to swing at myra's neck, hoping to do a similar attack like the other woman did to her. she still hoped to keep her fangs in myra's neck and prayed to vellen that more blood could be drawn.

úlla vs. @Myra
minor maim
Rounds: 3/5
Hits:

Rolling 8d20: 1 + 5 + 15 + 19 + 17 + 13 + 11 + 9

Dodges:

Rolling 4d20: 10 + 8 + 11 + 12

Luck:

Rolling 5d20: 11 + 17 + 1 + 14 + 13

table by ferus

@SHIVA VS. @Charax FOR MINOR MAIM
— RESULTS —

Shiva Hits: 3+2+5+5+4+1 Luck = 20
Shiva Dodges: 3+1+1+1+1 = 7

Charax Hits: 3+3+5+4+3+1 Luck = 19
Charax Dodges: 4+3+3+1+3 = 14

Shiva Successful Hits: 6
Charax Successful Hits: 12

@Charax HAS WON THE CHALLENGE FOR MINOR MAIM!

---

WOUNDED ROLL

performed on discord by @irish ★

@Shiva is automatically WOUNDED for losing!

@Charax Wounded Roll: 4

@Charax is 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 5/31/22, and are logged in the wounded log. Once healed, post in Trade & Dice Updates to have your dice returned to normal.

In official wars and raids, fight result timers and posting restrictions are negated. Posting may continue, but the results of this fight cannot be acknowledged ICly until either both challengers have responded, or if 3 days have gone by. Whichever comes first!

Do they come to find him?

No.

They come for war. To kill, to slay. They invade, like vermin.

Erna was right. They don’t care for him, they don’t want him. They are an infestation, and after losing a home they come for another and bring war with them.

He wants them to pay. He wants to see it happen. He wants to be part of it.

But as soon as his resolve settles on defending the Mire, bright orange eyes land on a fight. His mother, Ulla, battles one of the swamp lions. And then there is Erna, fighting for her life against the Sigrun Matriarch. Emrik stares, unable to move, wide eyes flicking anxiously between the two fights.

He does not want Erna to lose, he does not want his mother to lose. He has seen her fall once already. There is nothing he can do but stand and stare, his attention (and his heart) divided, so focused on the battles before him that he hardly notices anything else.

Emrik is attempting to hide - his siblings (Finn and Silla) may find him

I'm just a thief in the moonlight

I wanna see what you're made of I need to know you for real I'll strive with you 'til the day breaks I need to know how it feels I'm just a thief in the moonlight I take the healing deceit But you change when they remade me Was blind, but now I see I wanna see what you're made of I need to know you for real I'll strive with you 'til the day breaks I need to know how it feels I'm just a thief in the moonlight I take the healing deceit But you change when they remade me Was blind, but now I see

code by corvus

@Brynja VS. @Leander FOR @Freya
— RESULTS —

Brynja Hits: 5+4+4+1 Luck = 14
Brynja Dodges: 1+2+3 = 6

Leander Hits: 6+4+6+1 Luck = 17
Leander Dodges: 3+2+2 = 7

Brynja Successful Hits: 7
Leander Successful Hits: 11

@Leander HAS WON THE CHALLENGE FOR @Freya!

In official wars and raids, fight result timers and posting restrictions are negated. Posting may continue, but the results of this fight cannot be acknowledged ICly until either both challengers have responded, or if 3 days have gone by. Whichever comes first!

change your heart or die ▽ Perhaps there was every reason in the world to go to war, but Finnulf couldn’t for the life of him find a drop of fuck to give. Well, perhaps that wasn’t entirely true. Fighting was fun. There was glory to be had. His family needed to be protected, as well. Less and less, though, the young Sigrun could relate to the goals of the wider clan when they had all but tsked their lips and shrugged it off when his mother lost the cove. His understanding of Sigrun exaltation had shifted that day. It had been well within their power to retaliate, yet they didn’t. They let Sahir throw his mother down, and then who had been there to help her up? To feed her? To care for her while she healed? Only him, and his sister. Children. He struggled to see through the bitterness and wasted fury as his mother called him, but he obliged as he always did. For her, for them. If only to find a canvas on which to unleash his adolescent woes. He follows behind his sister, setting his eyes on another yearling next to the one that Cirilla targets. But as he braces himself to lung into the fray, something catches the corner of his eye. All around him bodies blur, a crowd of mouths and blood. But in the midst, there is a still figure, crouched and almost out of fight. His heart lurches and he stops. Emrik. His brother. He doesn’t have to think, he forgets the war. Tosses it aside like a toy he’d grown bored of. "Em." He breathes, eyes wide, glazed as if he has seen a ghost. Shoving through the increasingly chaotic skirmishes, and narrowly missing a stray kick to the jaw from a hind leg, Finnulf finds himself unconsciously matching Emrik’s stance as he approaches. Cautious, as if touching it might scatter the vision. Asking permission to the secret space where Emrik perched, rigid. He is glad to see his brother in one piece, but he is confused. Something...smells..wrong. "Emrik, hey... bróðir, er allt í lagi með þig?" brother, are you okay? He pauses, blinking, glancing at the chaos around them in case any of it might chip off toward them. "I...I’ve been looking for you." He says, he offers it, like a desperate plea. A soft, gentle, broken accusation. We needed you. I needed you. -Finnulf is attempting to hide, talking to Emrik- @Emrik