She felt her claws dig into the Ulla's neck, succeeding in capturing the larger woman in a deadly grip. Using the hold as leverage, Myra would try to swivel her body to her left so that she could face her opponent fully head-on. She would attempt to shove her chest forward into Ulla's at the same time, hoping to stagger the other woman, much like Ulla had done to her at the start of all this.

The other's teeth remained embedded within her right cheek; fiery points of pain that grew more intense the longer they remained. It was becoming difficult to see, blood pooling into her right eye from the slashes atop her brow. Yet she pushed through the pain and discomfort, managing to clamp her jaws around Ulla's right eye. Myra couldn't tell if she'd managed to inflict damage that would impact the other woman's eyesight long-term, but she was well-pleased with the taste of blood running over her tongue regardless.

Distracted as she was, Myra couldn't even think to avoid the claws that broke the skin of her neck, sharp, hot pain erupting from the punctures as Ulla captured the huntress within her own grip, leaving Myra similarly immobilized. It was all becoming too much, and Myra would relinquish her hold upon the other's face with an enraged hiss, seeking to pull away from the fangs lodged in her own cheek. She would still try to keep her claws buried in Ulla's neck, however, stubbornly determined to keep them locked together.

Unwilling to give up on doing more damage, she would lift her left forelimb once more, attempting to hook her claws into Ulla's right armpit, hoping to tear through as much of the thin skin as she could in the process.

Myra vs. @Úlla
Minor Maim
Round 3 / 5
Hits:

Rolling 7d20: 4 + 7 + 12 + 17 + 6 + 2 + 13

Dodges:

Rolling 5d20: 10 + 11 + 15 + 14 + 3

Luck:

Rolling 5d20: 9 + 7 + 20 + 4 + 8

ART COPYRIGHT IRISH

There are very few things that could have broken the trance Emrik fell into, watching the lions trade deadly blows before him. One of those things is his brother, and Finn’s soft and worried voice reaches him through the fog and haze.

"Bróðir," the grey boy murmurs, forcing his gaze from the fights as if it physically hurts to look away. Looking at @Finnulf hurts as well. "I missed you." Emrik’s tail tucks up behind him, and mud and swamp water drops from his sides. He chooses not to hear that accusation, the hint that Finn might have needed him or wanted him.

"Is @Cirilla -" he glances around, over Finn’s shoulder as if their sister would be behind his massive form, only for him to find her fighting as valiantly as they were probably expected to. His lips twist back over his teeth. "She shouldn’t fight for them." He says softly, but heatedly, and his voice cracks almost in anger - but there’s a frailty to his voice, a sorrow he can’t even begin to understand. "They didn’t fight for us."

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

The calico yearling moves as quickly as she can manage towards the Mire. Initially she had had no interest in joining the fray, the youth was quite passive and wanted no parts in a fight. But by the sound of things everyone was fighting and with so many of her family members scents intertwined with the Mire she was drawn forward. The youth knew that she needed to be present, especially if any of her family needed her help medically. Grabbing her rabbit hide full of herbs she storms from the hollows, making her way towards the mire as if hell was on her heels. She arrives to mayhem, fights scattered across the mire and already she can spy numerous family members tangled in the fold. She moves to take her place alongside @Ragnar and @Jökull, "I'm here.. All these wounds are going to need tending to. You both need to be careful." She says quietly, mocha gaze ever watchful as her muscles tense. This was going to get messy.

[medic/nursemaid exp]
+5 - Attend a challenge to assess the wounds
+10 - Participate in a war

ART COPYRIGHT IRISH

@Charax was quick to answer her and it seemed that things had finally gotten to a boiling point. The talk before about bloodshed between the families was once again happening and this time, it didn't seem like it would just be between them. She saw many members from other prides taking part in things. The High Sovereign would have been content enough to let them weed themselves out before doing anything, no need to waste the energy of her pride in this. Her daughter's voice caught her attention and she swung her head up to find her, the movement allowing her to catch the cowardly attack from behind only a moment before it landed. @Revna's hug gripped her and her claws sliced into her tender skin. Teeth grazed along her spine, the moment of heads up allowed her front end to turn back toward her attacker and offset the incoming teeth a bit. Amara's limber body turned and her outstretched claws attempted to grip into the lower bit of Revna's closest leg and attempted to pull it toward her. Her balance was iffy but she had gained two extra legs for the moment to help her. Amara vs. @Revna Minor Maim (TBD) 1/5 Hits: Rolling 7d20: 3 + 19 + 9 + 5 + 12 + 15 + 16 Dodges: Rolling 6d20: 6 + 13 + 2 + 1 + 14 + 3 Luck: Rolling 6d20: 2 + 10 + 19 + 4 + 12 + 16 +1 luck due to lead scout in thread

Table by Ice. Graphic by Lars.

There was nothing like the sound of a challenge to draw Hestia forward from lounging in her den. Ordinarily she couldn't give a rat's ass about what happened to any of the other prides, but this particular challenge seemed to garner a good deal of attention. Naturally the Tollaire would make her way towards the mire but the inky yearling had no intentions of necessarily being found. Instead she was on the hunt for someone else. She could smell @Victoria she just couldn't necessarily pick out where she had gotten off to with the amount of bodies that were present. Shaking it off she decided she would have to locate her later, for now though the Tollaire would move to take her place amongst the other bystanders. And if someone was brazen enough to want a fight she would gladly give them one. [barbarian/paladin exp] +5 - Observe a fight

code // art

change your heart or die ▽ I missed you A thread of warmth, of hope, worms into his chest at his brother’s welcome...and yet, it is quickly pursued by more confusion. Then where was he? If he missed him, why did he leave and never find them after the challenge? Anger begins to finally saunter into awareness with gentle grace. "Where have you been? Did something happen to you?" A heart quickening in his chest, he looks for anyone to blame. For a villain, a monster, a god. His own lips begin to twitch. Anger straining at the edge of his voice. Give me someone to blame, Emrik. Tell me you were kidnapped, tell me you’ve been held prisoner. Tell me you didn’t fucking choose to run away from us. Finnulf looks over his shoulder, confusion entwining itself into his face as the anger through clenched teeth sinks into his understanding. They didn’t fight for us. Finn looks back at Emrik slowly, something in his eyes pleading, straining forward as if trying to press into a thick fog. To find some way to touch his brother, to get through to him. Instinct seemed to burn with the knowledge that he needed to, more than anything. "No, they didn’t." He admits. He cannot deny that. "But we fight for eachother. Always." Not them. Us. A growl swells in his throat, not aimed at his brother, but rather to carry the strength of what he said home. His shoulders square, he leans toward Emrik, moving to stand directly in front of him so that their eyes might bare into each other. If he had had hands, he would have placed them on Emrik’s shoulders. Firm, sober. Even if only for a moment. If at any point in his life he had been able to marshal the nature of an older brother, he was trying to summon it now. To muscle the world back together, as if his strength alone could keep the pieces from flying apart. "What happened to you?" He says, its almost a whisper, a warmth and an empathy reserved for his mother and siblings almost exclusively - so gentle and yet so afraid. @Emrik

Now what was all of this commotion? Certainly it was enough to bring the golden woman forward from her mingling with the plants in the jungle to instead make her way towards the Mire. She had never been here before and it smelled interesting enough. Perhaps what was most alluring was the multitude of different scents gathered within the Mire. Whoever had called for this place had certainly caused a ruckus now hadn't they? She moves through the murky water, being certain to slosh the mud up onto her coat to hopefully mask her scent as she continues to make her way deeper into the territory. None of the individuals gathered were familiar to her, though perhaps if she had met them previously she wouldn't have remembered it. Her memory was a fickle thing and it wouldn't be uncommon for her to forget an acquaintance. However the woman moves to take her place among a particularly thick area of brush, settling there to observe the ongoings. Maybe she might even be lucky enough to snag some food on her way back out but for now, she was more interested in watching the gore of the fights.

**Tanya is attempting to stay hidden!**

[assassin/sleuth exp]
+10 Sneak into another pride's territory without getting caught (pending)
+10 Successfully stay hidden for the duration of a thread (pending)
+10 Sneak into a pride without getting caught (pending)

code | image | image

Brynja

His body again shifts around the grip he has and collides with her body again. Burning pain that felt like heat radiated out from her body where blood vessels below the skin burst and her muscles strained. Her planted forepaw shifted a little in the mud of the Mire under his push, she began to topple unceremoniously down. She tried and failed to catch herself with her right paw, following through with the attack, but it landed awkward and twisted below itself. Her wrist awkwardly cracking and painfully staining. Somewhere between the pressure of his grip, tugging her skin and neck, and inevitably hitting the ground she found blackness. Vision blurring at the edges, seeing last before she faded the edges of his toes...

( Brynja has passed out/can be considered as exited the thread and Leander has PP permission over her )

+10 Participate in a raid or war
+5 Attend a spar or challenge to assess the wounds

War breaks out, and some of the Andal lions begin to trail toward it. Hazel is one of them - unable to stop herself from going where her skills could be used. The Mire is not a place she’d wanted to go, and yet she arrives without appearing disturbed at all. Battle rages around the druid, and she is attentive as her gaze flicks over each one (and stifles a small sigh when she sees a familiar figure in a death match once again).

Hazel pauses, looking around for someone coming from a battle that might need help - and for the first time, she is picky about who she goes to. Andal has enemies, and Hazel refuses to aid them. A stark contrast to the last war she’d been in, where she cared little about who needed help - only that they needed it.

Hazel is looking for someone to help/heal so please let me know if you would like her to (don't listen to her she will help the enemy she's weak)

THE FAMINE—
My Lord, why is goodness so hard for me?

Judgement day has come, and not a moment too soon. For when the inky darkness of their sins begin to pool over unto their land, so does the son of man take their greed with him. It is an outpouring of violence, a penance of church hymnals turned grim as blood spills in every direction. It is...delightful. A scene so damning that even the hellion beast that drank in their cries for mercy, had departed from his devout ways to indulge in the baths of wickedness. Repentance was a song that had far yet to be sung, one that had been tucked deep and far between the pages of their roman bibles and foraged within the pages of dead sea scrolls. It is a song that he demands, one that is required in order for their forgiveness to be given. No one is forgiven until they are baptized within the blood, surely this is so. Their ounce of flesh had yet to be paid by the woman who had inflicted judgement upon him that was not so rightfully hers. Thus - the law commands. An eye for an eye, and a soul for a soul.

It is not the truly that they quarrel with, but rather those who have wronged him. Even if not directly, their inequities were shared in twos, damning fizzers that would carry onwards as generational curses. She just happens to be the one to find the intrigue of the gardens snake, sentenced to repent for a crime that was not committed by delicate hands or brazens brows. Yet - it is what law demands. He tells himself this more times over than he has read the gospels. Was it truly what the law had demanded, or was it what his flesh desired? Either way, the violence was prude and inviting, and how could one deny such a beckoning call from the sweet nectar of life from the tree?

Arishem moves swiftly. Wafting amongst the grounds like a poltergeist, haunting and damned all at once as his body soars throughout the wind with innate and intent focus. He intends to close the gap upon the two before she has time to think, let alone react to his advances. With the force of a thousand resurrections, the creature would attempt to launch himself from the pillars of the kingdom unto Hazels back. Hoping to weigh the woman down with his body weight long enough to attempt to grasp ahold of the folding within her neck to make her bow underneath his frame if successful. It is risky, and raw, unaltered anger that fuels his passions. He wonders for a moment if Mordecai would show to reprimand the Baptist for such an action, or would he encourage it with having known what their people had done to him? It does not matter, all that matters now, within these moments is that debt is to be paid in the likes of another's flesh.

Sparring Stats
The Priest vs. The Devil
(@Arishem) vs (@Hazel)
Major Maim - Blinding - one eye
Round I of V
Hits:

Rolling 7d20: 17 + 4 + 20 + 9 + 16 + 8 + 19

Dodges:

Rolling 4d20: 11 + 19 + 8 + 6

Luck:

Rolling 5d20: 19 + 11 + 14 + 13 + 4