Slowly, slowly, she was able to regather her wits through the pounding left behind in her skull. If the stakes weren't so high – if it weren't war – Morrigan would have found herself both impressed and intrigued by the man who wore her old crown. He was younger, but already an impressive beast... yet he had marked himself as the enemy. Sought to rip away her ability to protect her own wife and children, all the rest of their kin. That could not be allowed. If she could have heard her eldest son's scream cut off by broken ribs over the pounding of her own pulse in her skull, it might have shaken her. But her children were on their own now. Too grown for her to protect them from the brutalities of war.

Her claws find their mark on his right arm before she moves to place the bloodied appendage back on the earth. They were nearly evenly matched in size, but Morrigan did not want to give him a chance to unbalance her so far into their fight. She might have been in her prime, but she was not in the best shape she could have been. The exhaustion was beginning to dull the pain in some ways, but the shredded flesh of her ear protested sharply as she moved to repin both ears to her skull. As their bodies crashed together she had only a breadth of a moment to slam shut her ears before his open jaws found their mark both above and below her left brow. A slightly different angle and she might have been repaid for taking the Rike harlot's eye.

She was not out of danger yet, though, and needed to dissuade him from his grip somehow. With her four limbs now squarely planted and he jaws freed after only managing to tear through some of the flesh on the side of his neck, Morrigan would attempt to lunge her own jaws beneath the lifted and grasping ones of her opponent, willing to twist her face deeper into his fangs if it meant gaining a hold on his throat. Morrigan had never known the meaning of holding back. Every new scar was a violently beautiful memory, the more blood spilled in protection of these godspun lands, the greater the legacy she would leave behind.

Bruised chest heaved with the effort of continuing, desperate for a break from the pair of warriors' bloodlust. But it wasn't over it until it was over. Her opponent paid her back in turn as she felt his claws slice through the thinner fur at the front of her right arm, but she kept her focus solely on her own jaws and the purchase he had on the left side of her face. Her tail did not stand as straight as it did at the beginning of the fight, but it still lashed behind her in her rage as she moved with her equally bloodied dance partner. No matter what happened, they were unlikely to forget each other.

@Morrigan vs. @Sahir
for Minor Maim
iv/v
Hits:

Rolling 8d20: 12 + 5 + 13 + 14 + 8 + 9 + 2 + 15

Dodges:

Rolling 4d20: 6 + 15 + 19 + 16

Luck:

Rolling 6d20: 2 + 18 + 3 + 7 + 10 + 20

table by ferus, art by grav3wolf

OOC NOTE: +1 luck for Parvati (Lead Scout of VB) being present.

Better late than never, right?

By the time Magnus pushed his way through the detritus of the Mire, it was clear that the fighting had been going on for a while. There were some bystanders - a fair amount, in fact - but most of them were in the midst of brawling, many of them being familiar faces. Most friendly, but some of them undeniably not. It was hard to tell which side was winning, but as he combed the horizon and saw his sister in yet another deadly tryst with a Rike - the bitch that Zulema had described to him; the one that seemed to be the clan's new It Girl now that Eulalia's speckled plaything was six feet under - he knew everything would hinge on that, truthfully, regardless of however many other battles were won.

He would be damned if he just sat by idly and waited for the result.

So it was convenient, really, when he would find his gaze - hungry - settling on the frame of a big, burly, brown-pelted man, almost wolfish in appearance. The hair along the back of his neck stood on end. This was a face he knew to be Rike. He did not know details, but he knew enough - he had his memories, and he'd definitely faced this man on the battlefield before - and as he moved closer to the resting place of the other man the anticipation grew to a boiling point. Without hesitation, Magnus would charge toward @Halvar's right side, a thundering snarl erupting from parted jaws that would subsequently seek to clash and snap against the skin of Halvar's right cheek. Simultaneously to this, Magnus would lift his left forelimb and - with claws unsheathed - attempt to slash diagonally across the width of the Rike's barrel chest.

MAGNUS vs HALVAR
FOR MAJOR MAIM
ROUND 1/5
HIT:

Rolling 9d20: 11 + 17 + 5 + 12 + 2 + 3 + 8 + 4 + 10

DODGE:

Rolling 4d20: 3 + 17 + 15 + 18

LUCK:

Rolling 6d20: 15 + 9 + 10 + 14 + 13 + 1

irish

Myra's left forepaw found mark on Aquila's right shoulder where her claws dug securely into the back half of the shoulder blade. Settling into the skin, tearing open fresh wounds there in a place that long term would be painful and stifle his movements. Her jaws pierced into his right cheek, haphazardly tearing the thin flesh there. She was successful in wrapping her lower teeth around his lower mandible, her lower fangs scraping and tearing the skin of his lip and jaw.

Aquila's chest rumbled with a growl, his eyes narrowing as the beating of his heart grew heavy in his ears. His left forepaw then lifted upwards and he turned it so the claws were angled upwards. He aimed to slam them into the right side of her belly, behind her planted forelimb.

@Myra vs. Aquila
Minor Maim - TBD
Round 5/5
Hits:

Rolling 6d20: 17 + 2 + 9 + 10 + 4 + 15

Dodges:

Rolling 5d20: 17 + 10 + 18 + 15 + 6

Luck:

Rolling 5d20: 11 + 20 + 9 + 3 + 4

( -1 to Hit/Dodge due to Fatigue)

ART BY NICOLEXV , CODE BY LARS

voluspa’s shoulder managed to connect with beelzebub’s body again, despite the grunt of her own discomfort that comes from the bullying of their frames against one another. bruises would continue to bloom where flesh met flesh, but, thankfully, the scent of crimson was near intoxicating by the time that she felt the edges of fatigue begin to spill through her veins.

albeit being unsurprised by the fact that beelzebub kept her limb held hostage during their ordeal, voluspa could not ignore the building strain of her tendons, nor the pain that seemed to mount with each passing moment and the deepening of the lacerations. it was abundantly clear that their game of tug-of-war would not end easily in their current positioning — which meant that, maybe, she would have to take the risk and give into what the bezra wanted to have happen. it was now, or never, after all.

wincing as the other’s claws pressed deeper into her forepaw, beelzebub continuing to yank, and yank, and yank, pivoting to the sigrun’s right as their weights continued to teeter. voluspa would not yield, however, and instead sought to shift with the momentum of her opponent’s pull, hind limbs coiling tightly before they unwound, attempting to lurch her after and into beelzebub with jaws that aimed, again, for the left side of her face, where blood already oozed and where her target had been set. mine, her mind screamed, consumed by a bloodlust and anger that spurred from years of confliction and torment, and to which beelzebub had become a target for. as she fell forward, voluspa would aim to keep her right shoulder rolled and pressed into beelzebub the best that she could, hoping to use it as a deterrent as she attempted to yank her right paw away from the other’s grip in the midsts of their movements.

if she would fall, she would fall hard — and hopefully beelzebub would too.

Voluspa vs. @Beelzebub
major maim, single-eye blinding
round five out of five
Hits:

Rolling 6d20: 6 + 13 + 7 + 12 + 5 + 15

Dodges:

Rolling 4d20: 13 + 1 + 14 + 6

Luck:

Rolling 5d20: 20 + 14 + 3 + 19 + 17

table code by ferus

Her attacks strike true, her claws raking across his shoulder while her fangs pierced through delicate skin, effectively securing his lower jaw between her teeth. Once more, the taste of coppery liquid drips upon her tongue, a small victory that feeds her determination to hold on for just a little bit longer. She doesn’t have much left to give to this conflict, but she will give all she has to defend herself and to defend this place, this new home she’d found for herself here in the Mire.

For it truly was her home, now. Her blood was churned into the mud below, connecting her to the land with a tie that would not be easily broken.

Aquila’s claws tear through the pale flesh on her right side, marking the boundary between her ribs and her soft underbelly with long red streaks. She would be feeling those for a while. Though still wobbly, she tries to move away from the assault, attempting to drape her left arm over his back to support herself while she pivoted on her planted right forepaw, spinning her body away from his sharp talons and adopting a position that was halfway perpendicular to the bronze male. She tries to ram the point of her left shoulder into his right shoulder as she does so, resigning herself already to the pain that would surely lance through the already bruised flesh.

Throughout all of this, she stubbornly does her best to maintain the hold she has on his face, though her strength is waning steadily. Still, she tries to press her teeth in deeper, practically chewing on Aquila’s lower jaw in an attempt to cause as much damage as possible. One last ditch effort to inflict as much pain as she could upon him before her lightheadedness inevitably won out.

Myra vs. @Aquila
Minor Maim
Round 5 / 5
Hits:

Rolling 6d20: 1 + 10 + 18 + 19 + 4 + 12

Dodges:

Rolling 4d20: 20 + 1 + 3 + 8

Luck:

Rolling 5d20: 7 + 5 + 1 + 14 + 17

Dice Reduced -1 due to fatigue

ART COPYRIGHT IRISH

The fight was over. They had reached an impasse and, though Amara was wounded from their battle, the break in her foot meant that she had to give in and concede the fight. She would not be able to continue with a broken paw. As she tried to pull away, @Amara's claws dragged downward along her leg, scratching deep furrows in the flesh there. Her final swipe at Amara's side landed, but that was all she had left in her. The pain was beginning to wash over her and she knew that her body was finished, even if she did not want to be.

She pulled harder, the pressure on her paw causing the break to worsen. The bones did not fully shatter, but the tiny fractures could easy turn into a full break if she continued. As it was, the muscles in her paw and leg screamed in agony and she could feel bones grating on each other as she suffered under the bite of Amara. She gave one more pull, putting what strength she could into it, and felt flesh tear as she finally pulled away from the lioness.

She stepped away, favoring her back leg - unable to put much, if any, pressure on the back right paw - and turned to face Amara, her head lowered and ears pinned back. Her mouth parted as she panted, baring her fangs at Amara in an angry hiss as she backed away. One day she would beat Amara. One day she would have revenge against the woman. But today she would settle for the damage she had done.

She turned away, and her eyes immediately landed on the situation that had unfolded behind her. Her wife, bright fur standing out against the murky darkness of the Mire, had found her way here, where she did not belong. A pang of worry shot through her heart as she saw that @Dhaveira's face had a small scratch on it, and beyond that she saw @Elías embroiled in a fight with another male (@Caelum) that she did not recognize. Eli could take care of himself. Eira, however, needed to be protected. She was not a fighter like the Sigrun, and Revna did want her to have to be. She limped away, turning her back on her former opponent, and approached her wife. "What are you doing here?" she asked, concern coloring her voice. "It's not safe, Eira." Her exhaustion and pain were made obvious by the strain in her voice, if her limp and multiple bleeding wounds were not enough of a hint already.

She came to Eira, putting them face to face, her eyes clouded with worry. "Who cut you?" she demanded, but she had a feeling she already knew the answer. Eli was most likely fighting the male that had done the damage, with the two of them close enough to Eira that it was the most obvious answer to the question. She would have tried to care for her wife, but she didn't want to smear her own blood - or Amara's - on Eira. Her wounds ached and stung. She had bruising on her chin and chest. Blood soaked her fur. She needed to go home and find someone who could help her - it would not be Nebula this time - before she collapsed here and now from exhaustion.

code | image

Kismet has always been drawn to crowds — call it a burning curiosity, and one that is certain to come back to bite her sooner or later. For once, however, she'd had every intention of staying home with Basira and the cubs. But then, Sahir didn't come home. It's been too long — much longer than it takes to determine a winner, and worry seeps into her bones; she cannot sit by and wait any longer. Her concern only grows as she gets closer to the swamp, her herb satchel slung around her neck and her ears perking towards the sound of fighting — a lot of fighting. And then the smell of blood is cloying in her nostrils, and in the darkness, she can make out the mass of bodies. She hunkers down in the bushes, scanning them fervently; @Corinthian is the easiest one to notice at first, his pale coat marking him like a sore thumb, fighting against a man who is even more stark in color than him. Her stomach lurching, she keeps looking until her gaze pinpoints on @Sahir, who is engaged in a bloody battle with a woman she doesn't recognize. A battle medic Kismet is not, but she is a medic, and she is immediately certain that she has to do something. She can't help her pridemate or her husband — not yet, but she can help their allies. Spotting the pale figure of a bleeding Ecrosian limping away from the bulk of the fighting, Kismet scurries around the fringes of the battle in her direction, low to the ground and hoping to go without notice. She shimmies along in the bushes until she's close to @Icefang ♔, slinking out from the underbrush and glancing somewhat nervously at the chaos, her teeth chittering slightly. "Hey, I'm Kismet," she breathes, turning her attention back towards the Mire lioness. "I can help, I'm a medic," the seer tells her, clearly off-put and uncertain about this entire situation, but determined to make use of herself here all the same. How had it all turned to this? How had she not seen it coming? With a somewhat trembling paw, she rifles through her bag and tries to steady the erratic thrum of her heart before offering a collection of red and golden seeds to Icefang on an outstretched palm, "for pain, and to prevent infection." Focus. You know what you're doing. Sahir will be fine. He has to be fine. +10 - Participate in a raid or war [1/2] +5 - Attend a spar or challenge to assess the wounds [1/2] not all who wander are lost

code // art // do not use without permission

This content might touch on topics that are sensitive or triggering for some readers. Trigger Warning for mentions of gore, violence

she does worsen the damage - the socket bends under erna's force, the bone parting with a savage crack that saga swears she can see happen. it's all in her mind, doubtlessly, but the white hot flash of light in her mind's eye is enough of a memory that she can almost picture the two of them in perfect clarity. her skin lay ragged against her face and she can't tell how much peels away from the crushed bone. there is only the feeling of too much air on her insides and it haunts her in a way that other wounds wouldn't.

their savagery ups, she notes, with every passing moment.

her searching jaws don't hit soft, yielding flesh. instead, the rike slams the front of her shoulder forward and even as the jarl can feel the displacement of air coming her direction, she can't stop it. the bone crashes into her face, breaking a bone in her nose with a softer crunch than her eye socket and smashing her lips against her fangs, tearing the flesh and leaving her momentarily winded. she jerks back a heartbeat later, pushing with her right hind paw to help offset the impact even as the pain makes her wheeze. her right forepaw manages to tear furrows in erna's side and as it hits the ground, she's shoving with it, too, in a fancy footwork move that tries to enable her to step around the protruding shoulder allow her to surge down once more. her ( sore, screaming ) open jaws are sweeping wildly for the area where she assumes erna's stomach is, that tender flesh just behind the curve of a rib. she's attempting to find it and sink her bleeding, tired fangs in deep.

before she lands any blow, however, erna's retaliation lands. with her motion to try to sweep alongside erna and go for her lower right side, the rike bitch's claws tear along the outside of her neck, puncturing deepest into the flesh of her upper shoulder. with saga's intention to keep going, flesh and fur and bits of muscle rip away with the motion, if her opponent seeks to send her claws deep enough, but it's not enough to deter her.

she's single minded; desperate. determined.

the bloodbringer, she reminds herself. bloodbringer.

saga vs. @Erna
to the death
Round 4/7
Hits:

Rolling 7d20: 8 + 13 + 4 + 2 + 14 + 9 + 16

Dodges:

Rolling 4d20: 15 + 16 + 2 + 3

Luck:

Rolling 5d20: 7 + 18 + 19 + 6 + 2

table by ferus & lineart by eerien00dle

A dark shadow, a snake, slithers out of the crowd and puts himself between Hazel and the fallen lion and the man carrying him. Hazel’s skin crawls with how close @Oblivion gets, his words frightening and his smile twisted. He tries to press her away with his mere presence, probably used to having his way by sheer force of will and his brute strength. Didn’t she just prove that she will not bend down to anyone?

She does not move.

Her attention flicks between the black lion and the brown (@Mordecai) as he drops her victim to speak - he is just like the snake. Fucking goddamn insane. More so if they think she’d willingly walk into their lair, after what she did to their pridemate - in self defence or not. They won’t see it like that.

"I have peace already," she lies.

Hazel has no choice but to let them go, to watch the eyeless man be dragged away and out of her reach. Regret does not form, but sadness does. She did not want to harm anyone, ever. She can still taste his blood. But that does not reach her now. She stays still, impassive, as the Firnen lions leave, refusing to budge or turn her back on the one that remains - and gets her attention in full force once again.

Unwavering coral eyes flick up to meet the cold, red gaze of the snake. They're still pressed close together if he has not moved since Mordecai’s departure, but she won’t be the one to move first. "Back off, creep."

DO NO HARM
TAKE NO SHIT

coded by flea

Erna’s protruding shoulder slams harshly into Saga’s face with an audible, satisfactory crunch that manages to dampen the pain spreading against the Rike’s thin flesh from the collision. The sounds, the sensations… they were ugly, nasty, but to the bloodthirsty Rike, they were music to the ears. Finally, her moment to shine. Finally, she will kill Saga Sigrun. What better place than this? Where the whole valley has gathered to observe the chimera’s defeat and to watch Erna’s victory. There was a spotlight upon them and the long-toothed German will make sure she was the main protagonist that slays the fanatical demon.

If only her mother was here to witness this.

There is sick satisfaction in knowing that she was putting her life on the line for the Rike. Was there a grander gesture than that? There was absolutely no chance ( in her mind ) for her kin to think she was selfish and disobedient. Oh, quite the contrary! She was doing them the biggest favor right now. Even Odhgrimm dare not reach for the snake’s throat, but Erna was doing it. I am doing it. I will bring victory to myself the Rike. They will celebrate. They will celebrate her.

And the valley… oh, the valley will fear them. She will kill the Sigrun Jarl and then she will pluck every single one of them one by one, until there are none left breathing. Until their cult is no more and Erna’s dead kin are avenged. She will be the Rike’s wrath returned ten fold.

Blood. Soreness. Fatigue. Her whole body is on fire, but her ambition drove her onward. She will not fall today.

As the opponent steps back to go around Erna’s shoulder, so does she. The long-haired wench seeks to pivot and maintain their head-on position, unwilling to give advantage to the blind woman. Saga’s teeth land across Erna’s shoulder in the midst of the motion, leaving deep cuts and perhaps even tearing a giant chunk should Saga attempt to do so. The fight grows brutal, and now they are once again like two mad dogs tearing each other apart. Her claws land, tearing the outside of Saga’s neck, and return to the ground immediately.

Howling, Erna’s teeth seek to use Saga’s lowered position to their advantage and aim straight for Saga’s neck, specifically the right side where there are already bleeding wounds. Her lower teeth attempt to sink straight into the important arteries, close to the jugular. Meanwhile, her right foot lifts, claws extending in an attempt to pierce through the left side of the chimera’s face, attempting to both cause damage and keep her head unmoving so she can try and carry out the death blow with her jaws.

Erna vs. @Saga
to the death
Round 5 / 7
Hits:

Rolling 7d20: 5 + 20 + 14 + 8 + 13 + 6 + 9

Dodges:

Rolling 6d20: 19 + 17 + 15 + 5 + 6 + 12

Luck:

Rolling 5d20: 1 + 20 + 11 + 12 + 4

coded by flea + art by rabbit