In the mud, there is only darkness. There is no light down here, no way to tell which way is up. He is held down in the dark, but as his body grows weaker and gives up the struggle without his consent, lights begin to dance behind his eyes.

Distantly, he’s aware of the weight holding him down vanishing; he’s less aware of his head floating to the top of the mud. His body twitches and tries again to purge itself of the water filling his lungs, and this time it works - water spills from his mouth as Finnulf cradles his head, at first in a weak stream and then Emrik heaves and splutters water and mud in thick, hacking coughs.

The boy’s eyes roll and open wide and wild as he pushes weakly, trying to get up, to get away from the monster and the mud it tried to drown him in. somehow, Emrik manages to push to half-sitting on trembling legs, and this forces even more gunk from his throat, and he takes a gasping, sobbing breath. It’s not enough. His shoulders shake.

"Finn - ?" He rasps, heavy head lifting and looking for him, looking for his brother and not the monster that had punished him. He can’t see either, but some amalgamation of both. His body refuses to let him speak; it feels as if mud is choking him, filling up his throat still, not letting him breathe. Vellen must be furious with him, and claiming him as unworthy to bear the name Sigrun.

Wide, terrified eyes look up at Finnulf, and he tries to say his name again, only for his lips to mouth the word. No sound comes out. Emrik’s body crumbles and he sags forward, heading for the mud again, as darkness clouds his mind.

Exit via unconsciousness

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

There is little time to breathe or to contemplate her next move -- every move is done so on a whim. It is based on what feels right in that very moment.

Jowls successfully seek purchase on @Hestia's lifted forelimb, though in the process, the Salem woman feels the painful pressure on her own shoulder increase. But adrenalin is on her side and though uncomfortable, her body spurs her on, diminishing the significance of her injuries -- they would pain her later.

Right forelimb lifts from the ground and with unsheathed claws, attempts to latch on to the meaty upper portion of her opponent's right forelimb and hopes to forcefully push downwards to the grounds. Simultaneously, Fallon attempts to insert more power into her bite, wishing for her teeth to sink in deeper still.

But it is not without her own injury, Fallon snarling as she feels Hestia's own jowls, initially aimed for her muzzle, clamp about the wrist of her own lifted right paw. Teeth slice through fresh and Fallon's nose is immediately filled with the metallic scent of fresh blood, crimson liquid pouring from her wounds.

@Fallon vs @Hestia
For Minor Main (TBD)
2 / 5

Hits:

Rolling 5d20: 18 + 3 + 11 + 7 + 13

Dodges:

Rolling 3d20: 17 + 20 + 7

Luck:

Rolling 5d20: 8 + 20 + 4 + 3 + 17

table by ferus, art by argenticide

This content might touch on topics that are sensitive or triggering for some readers.
Trigger warning for extreme eye gore

Hazel has never had to fight like this, so brutally. She is a medic, and trained her entire life to save others, not hurt them. She has never wanted to hurt anyone, never wanted to cause pain or injury. But she fights with all the ferocity of a warrior because despite her trade and her duty to heal, she will not let anyone push her around or bring her to her knees.

So when she sees the opportunity to end this, she takes it.

Hazel’s teeth bore into the lion’s eye socket, and she feels something pop against her tongue. With his skull held between her jaws, her paw swings up and her claw digs into the other socket, hooking up behind the remaining eye and ripping. Her stomach rolls, but the druid does not back down. He would do the same to her.

Does that make it right?

All at once Hazel jerks backwards, disengaging from the male and stepping back until she’s feet away from him. But her eyes are locked on his face, on the damage she inflicted, on his eyeless gaze. She did that.

She doesn’t notice the eye hanging from her teeth, the goo and blood and optic nerve hanging there. The blood on her paws, the wounds on her neck and shoulder steadily leaking her life away. Bad injuries, but none compared to her victory. The druid’s chest heaves and aches as she gulps in lungfuls of air, as if she’d forgotten to breathe the entire fight.

She’s never felt so alive.

OOC Note: Hazel has removed both of @Arishem's eyes.

DO NO HARM
TAKE NO SHIT

coded by flea

Myrkvi had to cease the jerking of his head to prevent getting dizzy. He had felt the flesh of the forelimb tear under the savage treatment, taking delight in likely leaving Ronin something he wouldn't forget. His obsidian eyes blinked against the blood dripping down his face, doing the little he could to keep his sight. The paw he had used to slash his opponent's chest slipped lower as it made it's way toward the muddy ground where he could better hold his stance against the similar weight of his opponent and the pull Ronin had tried to use to get him to stop shaking his head. Those teeth of his aggressor would find purchase in the fleshy part of his face. Blood seeped freely from deep punctures in his cheek and forehead. Although as the weight left his neck, Myrkvi had what was likely a low level Saga reckless idea. Myrkvi attempted to clench his jaws together firmly to try to worsen and deepen his hold on the forelimb. As Ronin tried to jerk the prince backwards, Myrkvi would attempt to use his grip on the Mire lion's limb to also try to yank his opponent in the opposite direction like playing violent tug-of-war with Ronin's leg and Myrkvi's face. The move would mean damaging his face further one way or another, but Myrkvi was a shark with the resolve not to let go.


Myrkvi v. @Ronin
Round 3/5
Minor Maim - TBD
Hits:

Rolling 7d20: 15 + 18 + 10 + 16 + 14 + 13 + 7

Dodges:

Rolling 3d20: 11 + 1 + 20

Luck:

Rolling 5d20: 3 + 18 + 2 + 14 + 7

code and art by aurora | BG to unsplash

The assassin began to tire. Her heart beat too quickly, sending too little energy surging with each pulse. She couldn't distinguish between the Mire muck and her own clammy, bloody sweat between her toes. Her ears pressed back so much that her head hurt. She could feel the furl of her own angry brow. Sweat-tears stung the corners of her eyes. Her face was a frozen battle mask. Righteousness, blind, fear? The yearling kept going for her ear - undoubtedly because Sarsa must have let that fear slip, because she had shown weakness, and now her vanity would be punished. But this was not her mate, not a high ranking male, but a pathetic female who was spawn of the enemy. She didn't have to accept punishment.

The enemy's paw didn't retreat but sought higher. A ring of punctures sunk into her right cheek, claws taking their threatening hold within the pretty flesh. She hated that paw. She hated the daring of this young one. More wounds scissored around the side of her right ear, adding to the messy swirls of blood, but Sarsa had gotten the yearling's chin and hot damn did she need to get something better. She chanced releasing her grip only to quickly try to bite sideways into the middle of the left forelimb. Simultaneously she tried to use her right paw to bash in the elbow. It might leave her face vulnerable for a moment but if only she could leave the yearling crippled in return, she could slink back into the safety of the shadows to plot her next target.

Sarsaparilla vs @Zahra
Minor maim (limb breaking)
5/5

Hits:

Rolling 5d20: 19 + 6 + 16 + 9 + 8

Dodges:

Rolling 3d20: 1 + 5 + 3

Luck:

Rolling 5d20: 12 + 17 + 19 + 18 + 15

Zahra was also finding her energy drop, feeling exhausted from the adrenaline pulse and the blood loss, even if it was mild but for her young body it was new and thus feeling weaker. But she had to keep going, stay strong. Her nostrils worked harder to collect air back to her lungs, sighing loud as her jaws were around the enemy's ear. Growls came, hating her enemy aswell, how she dint pick someone her own age or size, shame on them.

Her frontal claws fought to keep the grip, feeling them rake through the cheek of the older woman, of this weak woman. Then she felt for a quick instant her jaws leaving her chin, but not to go for her arm, with her own jaws busy she wasnt able to do anything. That allowing Sara to bite on the intended place, also feeling another paw around her elbow, but giving Zahra a bigger opening. If she would lose here, she wasn't going to go down without at least taking something from the woman. And like that she would now attempt to pull her head backwards, aiming to catch the tip or half of it with her.

Zahra vs @Sarsaparilla
for minor maim(face scarring or ear tip removal)
5 - 5
Hits:

Rolling 5d20: 19 + 6 + 7 + 5 + 10

Dodges:

Rolling 2d20: 7 + 20

Luck:

Rolling 5d20: 6 + 4 + 20 + 13 + 9

code by Cloudy

He continued to watch with horror, having no idea what to do as more and more battles unfurled around him. Then, with a gust of familiar scent, @Ragnar was beside him. "Brother," he breathed in surprise, Ragnar's words taking a moment to sink in because of it. "Okay," he said, visibly readying himself. Inwardly, he wasn't prepared at all, and he didn't want to fight in the slightest, but he wouldn't let these people hurt his family while he sat back and watched.

Even as he answered, more fights broke out among the watchers, sheer chaos unfolding around them. He didn't know who the majority of these lions were at this point, nor why they were fighting. "What's going on?" he muttered, not understanding their violence anymore.

Chaos. And War. Two lovers forever joining into beautiful dance. Their steps in rhythm to the music they made themselves. Roars and snarls. Screams and tears. The crying out of both victor and vanquished. The choir of the damned was what brought the dark beast forth. For so long he had been away. Far off into the sands of time. Buried deep and dreaming. Seeing. Witnessing just how this retched world would fall. It seemed that that fall had already begun. Oblivion stepped out into the open, basking in the gore and violence that greeted him. Yes! He roared into the fray, pacing the western border of it all. Sinners! Fight! Kill! Die! For only death can save you now! Worn paws stomping down with heavy steps, claws leaving gashes in their wake. Only the scorch of the blood you spill can save your filthy souls! The beast laughed out, crazed eyes set wide and blazing. (Oblivion is open for minor or major maim)

code // art // do not use without permission

Caelum had never guessed that his opponent would be so low to sneak in a nut-check... but he did, and as Caelum twisted, attempting to get at the man's neck, a heavy paw came down upon his testicles and a pain like no other surged into his stomach. He jerked and twitched, crying out, feeling an uncomfortable nausea set in the pit of his stomach. Would his next move be to projectile vomit on his enemy?

Unfortunately, no, but the pain was quite uncomfortable. And as Caelum went for the man's neck, simultaneously trying to sink a second paw of claws into the man's hide, his paw is caught between the seeking jaws of his opponent. The bite wasn't hard enough to break anything, but it wasn't gentle either. Caelum felt the male's teeth uncomfortably sink into his paw pad, pressing against tender flesh and delicate bones.

Caelum's bite for the man's neck turned into a bite to the man's brow as his quick movement to grab Caelum's paw also saved his throat... but nearly, not his eye. When the brute would straighten, Caelum would be disappointed to see that his teeth came irreversably close to his blinded eye. Boo.

--- Current Action ---
Caelum slumped the bottom half of his body to the side, closing his legs (to protect himself from any other dirty tricks), but keeping his upper half twisted towards his opponent. Caelum attempted to wrap his jaws around the leg of his opponent that was still on the ground, hoping to chomp hard enough that the man would step away, or stumble... so he could get up.

---

OOC: This is a really shitty post; I'm sorry :| I hope it makes sense, though!

Caelum vs. @Elías
Major Maim (TBD)
Round 1 2 3 4 5
Hits:

Rolling 6d20: 13 + 3 + 17 + 2 + 6 + 12

Dodges:

Rolling 3d20: 9 + 19 + 16

Luck:

Rolling 5d20: 14 + 10 + 19 + 6 + 4

ART

Scipio's face began to grow a rosy pink, blood surging into his otherwise pigmentless skin and growing bright. His body running through all means to try and survive this situation, to survive this tight grasp upon his neck. His forehalf was unceremonious shook back and forth in Harrow's deadly grasp. Fluctuations went from stilted breaths, short and hard, to fierce pain while skin tore open wider and wider around the lion's teeth. One meager forepaw twisted around, reaching up and over Scipio's head towards Harrow's face, a feeble attempt to scratch at his eyes and try to stagger the lion out of his grip. Just a few seconds. He just needed a few seconds to get away.

@Harrow vs. Scipio
Major Maim (TBD)
Round 4 / 5
Hits:

Rolling 6d20: 17 + 1 + 7 + 8 + 9 + 12

Dodges:

Rolling 3d20: 14 + 2 + 6

Luck:

Rolling 5d20: 11 + 15 + 20 + 10 + 17