The Butcher

Unholy water - Sanguine Addiction, those silver bullets a last blood benediction

Each day is stagnance, the same as the last, as the next - watching snow fall over the forest, the mountains, the roaring oceans of the north. He has worn grooves around the borders of the Bluffs, sweat and ached over the many ledges of their rocky face. It was not enough. It was never enough.

The creeping memories of war and conquest seep into each day heavier than the last until he is left with only red-soaked dreams of what could be. His restless nights are flooded with his brother's words, his mother's eyes, his father's bloody carcass, and the great rolling fields of nothingness stretched between Amaryllis and the home he will never return to.

It is never enough. So he searches for more. For satiety, for quiet, for peace.

The only peace he knows is through blood, grit, and grime. So he comes to the place that is wrought with it. Ripe with it. Braced and too ready, too eager, too famished, Gauthier waits in a stretch of the Pit shadowed by crowning limestone ledges.

Gauthier vs ???
Dominance / Maim / whatever
Round 0 / 3

She cannot deny the quiet curiosity she holds for the stoic male; for the curl of his lips, and the familiar eloquence of mystifying words. Charax is aware his tracks intercept her own, scouting as usual, and she hesitates at the intersection tensely; pondering her will, if it were strong enough to leave him be and continue on her way.

Today however, it is not. Eventually, the lithe lioness finds the earthy-hued male sheltered within the shadows of rock-face, and she cautiously descends into his company in verbal silence. A pause, seeking to stand before his hulking frame, blood-orange gaze sweeping burly perimeters.

Then, an assault. She seeks to thrust her body into motion, feigning an attack upon the right side of his chest. Instead, she attempts to duck to his left, trying to use her smaller size to slip her left shoulder against his left ribcage, and aim an unrestrained bite to his left flank - where muscular leg meets defined belly.

Charax vs @Gauthier
Dominance - Round 1 of 3
Hits:

Rolling 5d20: 18 + 4 + 6 + 10 + 20

Dodges:

Rolling 6d20: 19 + 7 + 17 + 10 + 13 + 8

Luck:

Rolling 5d20: 2 + 9 + 8 + 11 + 20

_{art by aurora}

The Butcher

Unholy water - Sanguine Addiction, those silver bullets a last blood benediction

She is not who he expects to pull over the ridge of the pit. Then again, there is little left to expectation and much to chance. There is no face or physique that he comes to this place for, no particular hope garnered for each partner that carves their name in his flesh. But she is not the one he anticipates, watching warily as she slinks down the rocky face of the crater wall.

He remains still when she meets him - methodical and respectfully motionless but for the curious, tense curl of his tail. She is silent and he does not mourn for the loss of conversation; if anything he admires it, a comfortable silence. Gauthier does not fill the looming space with sounds or words. There is only the winter breeze pulling the fibers of his mane, pooling in the radiant heat of him, they eye to eye and cut from the ruined snow.

Charax moves first - he braces: his claws flexing the hard, cold earth beneath him, body lowered, ears flattened. She arcs for his chest at the point of his right shoulder and he obliges, jaws spread and ready, but she feints swiftly and he snaps only air when she swings for his left.

Her body skims across his, and he curls with the sudden motion in following. The click of her jaws so near tender spots renders him bewildered and instinctively desperate for the height of a moment - she may take with her an ounce or two of meat, some blood and furs, but he dips and swings his hips away as he turns.

A terrifying grope. He can't say that he couldn't be flattered, though he'll mind where she puts her teeth thereon.

In the movement of his turn he reaches for her willowy frame, intending to grapple a claw-ful whatever is open to him - ribcage, shoulder, spine - and attempts to seize his sprawled jaws on a taste of her marbled flesh. He was curious, after all.

Gauthier vs @Charax
Dominance - Round 1 of 3
Hits:

Rolling 8d20: 4 + 9 + 2 + 1 + 20 + 11 + 6 + 13

Dodges:

Rolling 4d20: 9 + 15 + 11 + 16

Luck:

Rolling 5d20: 14 + 17 + 4 + 11 + 3

She is agile enough to pull off her feigned assault, and it is a quiet sense of victory as the marbled woman succeeds in pressing her left side to his own - her teeth pulling free from his flank with the subtle taste of flesh.

Gauthier retaliates, his foreclaws gripping at the back half of her left ribcage, penetrating through warm leather and pooling blood. Simultaneously his jaws pinch at the hollow area in front of her left hip, and she can feel the tension of his fangs as they threatened to permeate; bruising, waiting to pierce.

She attempts a hind-step to her right, trying to remove her tenderest parts from his reach - no doubt risking pulling flesh beneath his hold. Her right forepaw raises, seeking to use her claws against his left hip for leverage, her jaws attempting to snap hold somewhere near the muscular layer of his left-side spine.

Charax vs @Gauthier
Dominance - Round 2 of 3
Hits:

Rolling 5d20: 7 + 8 + 17 + 16 + 9

Dodges:

Rolling 6d20: 18 + 20 + 13 + 14 + 1 + 15

Luck:

Rolling 5d20: 12 + 15 + 4 + 5 + 2

_{art by aurora}

The Butcher

Unholy water - Sanguine Addiction, those silver bullets a last blood benediction

In their barbaric tempo there is ebb and flow; she pulls, he pushes, one wading the gaping expanse made by another. There is thrill and pleasure in it, the beast is a l i v e if by teeth and flesh roused and split, hers is a delight - he a connoisseur. The sprawling scent of her is a delight, earthly leather and the exotic savor of the casual wanderer. Reeled in heat, a savage eden of pooling shadows and vicious tempt.

The ruddy shape of her folds in his eclipse, the stretch of his burly arm anchored and dredged. Almost ruthless, almost careless. But for her, perhaps he is not volatile, only hungry, only curious. He has carved others much more callously. For Charax, there is idyllic restraint. His teeth bite to cut but only bruise. Gauthier wants more (he always wants more) but the grab shifts.

Cruel, the new hollow opened between them, and she closes it only with claw and fang - but is there no better way? Pressed by the force of her right paw and digging talons, he relinquishes arm and jaws if only to curl his body - not without first the pinching nag of her teeth against the taut stretch of latissimus muscle - whipping his tail for balance in the flourish.

Gauthier would rise with the intention of wrapping the lithe mount of her shoulders in a pythonian embrace; his jaws, intent on just a taste, a tinge, to trace their feral line over the back of her neck or skull. Greedy. He would not burden her with the entirety of his weight if successful, balancing most of it on powerful haunches kept still to her left and the tiller of a tail mooring that footing. But he would relish in the closeness.

Gauthier vs @Charax
Dominance - Round 2 of 3
Hits:

Rolling 8d20: 1 + 17 + 7 + 3 + 8 + 9 + 4 + 14

Dodges:

Rolling 4d20: 2 + 5 + 3 + 6

Luck:

Rolling 5d20: 18 + 1 + 13 + 11 + 15

If only she had known the familiarity of this dance went deeper than body language and skin-prickles - but as far as brotherhood. Gauthier is not the first male she found hauntingly stimulating, her first meeting with Amaroq had been one of tension and eventual battle. Her time with Gauthier had been less impetuous however, but they were 'pride mates' after all.

It was easy to become lost in the thrill of bloodshed, and yet Charax was not as trigger-happy as some - she fought with enough calculation to avoid any real, lasting damage upon the tawny male, and yet her restraint was flaky. She enjoyed the brief few minutes of ease that came with violence; for once, able to direct her inherent tension into something other than hawk-like watchfulness and unending expectation.

He detaches, leaving bruises beneath his fangs and pooling blood where his claws once sat. Though as Charax meets her own mark, he curls around her like a serpent. She can feel his weight pressing across her nape as his teeth pushed at loose scruff-skin - eventually, punching into fatty layers beneath. Blood sure to gush.

With the seething pain she redirects her right foreclaws from their prior seat, a last hurrah beneath the sudden sensation of vulnerability - her muscles quaking with the strain of his weighted flesh. She attempted to snake exposed talons in behind his left thigh with a feline snarl (teeth departing from any maintained hold); hoping to claw into the softer, tender parts of the male's otherwise rocklike physique. Perhaps, the impudent grope would be enough to force his withdrawal. Men usually liked to safeguard their jewels.

Charax vs @Gauthier
Dominance - Round 3 of 3
Hits:

Rolling 5d20: 13 + 9 + 16 + 11 + 20

Dodges:

Rolling 6d20: 19 + 1 + 9 + 15 + 4 + 7

Luck:

Rolling 5d20: 11 + 13 + 3 + 18 + 2

_{art by aurora}

The Butcher

Unholy water - Sanguine Addiction, those silver bullets a last blood benediction

He is rewarded not in glory but flavor, the trickling fount of ichor that stains his teeth and wraps the tongue. By nectarous possession, his kiss is not without its softness - he revels, discreetly, lapping tongue risen with the earthiness of her flesh and the metal of her blood.

It is, however, too short lived and too long lost. Her cunning cannot go unadmired, and her viciousness not unsavored; she is quick and calculative, and though he does not anticipate her truest devices he minds the movement beneath. She twists in his embrace, his jowls wrapped still, strained beneath his burly bulk but smooth, agile still. She reminds him of her earlier assault - closeness for closeness' sake, merciless, a thief of confidence.

Indeed, though he shifts to attempt maintaining his hold as she writes beneath him, the searing jab of her claws ripping for the softness of his loins is certainly a cause for concern. He released his hold on the nape of her neck (satisfied for that momentary rapture) but sought to shift the burden of his embrace. Gauthier weaves to pull his punctured leg from her grasp by a pivot on his heel - the heat of her grasp still potent in the rivulets of carmine staining down the length of his leg. In the motion, her talons graze and slice the soft flesh, but he intends to hinder any further reaches.

Trying to keep himself perpendicular to her, Gauthier attempts to replace a hold on the soft spot where jawhinge meets the arterial warmth of curving neck, and relies on balancing his weight with his hind legs and swinging tail.

But the ground is made soft beneath them, and chances are owed to the possibility of slipping through the slush...

Gauthier vs @Charax
Dominance - Round 3 of 3
Hits:

Rolling 8d20: 2 + 11 + 17 + 13 + 8 + 5 + 10 + 3

Dodges:

Rolling 4d20: 11 + 16 + 20 + 1

Luck:

Rolling 5d20: 1 + 18 + 8 + 7 + 3

@Charax VS. @Gauthier FOR dominance
— RESULTS —

Charax Hits: 2 + 2 + 4 + 1 luck = 9
Charax Dodges: 3 + 5 + 2 = 10

Gauthier Hits: 3 + 2 + 3 = 8
Gauthier Dodges: 3 + 0 + 3 = 6

Charax Successful Hits: 3
Gauthier Successful Hits: -2

CHARAX HAS WON THE CHALLENGE FOR DOMINANCE!

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.

Charax

He does not readily relinquish his hold upon her, and Charax's movements are restrained beneath the burden of his weight. Yet, her scratch to inner thighs is enough to remind him of his priorities; and for a fleeting moment the woman is sure the fight is over. Yet, he re-grasps, piercing into the unprotected folds of her neck, where vitals pump oxygen and blood.

She cannot know if he releases her or loses his footing, but what does seem clear is the woman's writhe beneath him and rapid momentum grants an escape - her lithe form darting a stride away from the earthy behemoth. She would swivel to gave him, wounds seeping, sides panting. Yet she feels alive - in some way, vaguely satisfied of her curiosity. Sated of her condemned want to be closer.

It feels like a good few moments of silence, her amber gaze alight upon him; expression still hunting for something within his broody existence. "Watch the skies," she offers eventually, whiskers fanning as a breeze brought with it that same suggestion of something peculiar. "The mist may have been only the beginning," mother-nature was displeased, for that she must assume.

Something was coming.

@Gauthier

_{table by yumpy}

The Butcher

Unholy water - Sanguine Addiction, those silver bullets a last blood benediction

Sure enough, the soft ground relents under his weight and Charax runs out from underneath - a flash of whorling caramel murk, the cautious tread of her vermillion eyes cast back. Gauthier chuckles, only slight of a sore loser, all the while enjoying what company he has lost to in the end. She is stoic herself; she searches him, and he searches her, unsure of what lay behind the flash of an ember gaze.

What stoked it? Something quivered there now, fueled by the violence whose evidence sprayed the ground, sprawled across their flesh. He had never seen her brutality before - though some part of him laments that this is not the extent of it, her careful bruising and calculative cuts. Her curiosity momentarily sated, his swelters.

@Charax is beautiful after all, but he grieves that he does not see her in the fullness of savagery and yearns for it - for anything - a feeling, a confession, a lie, a touch. Gauthier moves toward her, but -- watch the skies cuts his approach mid-stride. Something in him dares not tremble. The mist did not and does not now, scare him. But the skies, where he had seen his ancestors' god full and true just as they had said, just at the point of unbelieving closure...

His cold eyes scanned the finality of the dusk dark, the clouds cast over them, low and cumbrous. There was no cosmic snake with a belly full of starlight, only dark beyond those clouds - a moonless, starless scape. Never had it seemed so ominous before, but now.

Gauthier's teeth clench and he swallows the augment of want, if only momentarily. A small nod, the scrap of civility that he has, and he folds into the eve.

exit.