Well, at least there were some things that always stayed the same. Even while the world was literally tearing itself apart, lions would still fight with each other over the right to wear a crown. There's likely some deep meaning about their nature in there somewhere, but Myra is content to accept it simply as it is.

Might as well enjoy the show.

She's an early riser anyway, and so it isn't a terribly long journey for her to reach the pit this time around, even at a casual pace. Her gaze passed over the gathered faces with interest, but her lip curled once she realized precisely who today's challenger was. Him again.

Myra still felt a bit bitter about the defeat she'd suffered at Leander's paws, here in this very same arena. (She'd started it, yes, but knowing that hardly eased her feelings of humiliation.)

With a huff, she moved to sit near @Alaric, her lips already twisted into a frown. "I hope he eats sand." She muttered under her breath, mature as ever. But then, she'd never claimed that she wasn't a sore loser. If the piebald man got his tail handed to him by whoever he was challenging, Myra's mood would be brightened immeasurably.

+5 Observe a fight

code | image | image

hail to the king
kneel to the crown

royal flames will carve a path to chaos
bringing daylight to the night
let the water flow with shades of red
arrows black out the light

The call of war, to arms, to death, to simmering dreams within violent whim – his blood sings for it, and their blood sings to him. He knows it when a throng of blackbirds are thrust from the underbrush; they move in their cackling query, south, south on. He knows the pit will be crowned in bone and flesh. It moves him. It moves the day as it cradles the cry unto Wolfbron - a dirge unto an end, the winter breathes it like a song, a friendly cadence.

Is it not beautiful when blood spills on the thickened snows, dark and steaming and luscious? The backset of white and delicious sanguinary delight, if only wasted for artful derision. Gauthier licks his lips with anticipation when it dawns - his fangs knit, his claws drawn, and south he follows those pitch black birds.

The space between the bluffs and the pit swelled with a hymn of hatred, virile need, an orchestrated frenzy of teeth, lust, feral silence rocked on its heels. He felt nothing for the contender or his brother at the sidelines, only thirst. Only impatience. Only – only –

A grin rolled steadily across his lips. His eyes, too, gleamed with a hunger.

They had not brought their din to the door of the cannibals, no, only to the field slaked in sweat, tears, meat. A pity lost, they taste just as well in the pan of the pit as they would the pot of the red mountain.

Along the sidelines he roved, drawing chest to chest alongside his brother, though his cold eyes fix their icy depths on the piebald challenger. "@Amaroq," he droned, the sound of his voice woven through teeth and curling tongue. Wolfish, wild, yearning furor. "This terrible winter brings its gifts, it seems." The prey had been few, but now, as the edges of the crater filled with Andals, bounty favored them yet again.

Alas – his gaze broke only as @Aidoneus shifts through their ranks, following the tender forms of cubs. His heart moves once, twice, a small terror garnered, for he knows what comes. peace, she once dreamed. But she drew to a place of hell only, and with her, her precious children. "She shouldn’t stay," whispered gruffly, inhaling the chill of caution. "It isn’t safe." Troy trembled for the face of Helene.

Another look moved to @Alaric, curious and seeking, but there is little there but discontent.

And then he waits, biding, steeled, and so very famished.

Art © Ryuu

g

od is singing in my head again / in the howling voice of a she-wolf / that’s just eaten her young.

---

She is his shadow, now. Ever-present, unending. @Amaroq may spend his nights in the Mire and she in the Brook, but she was always watching, arms-length except in those fleeting moments where they were left entirely alone, untouched, secret. But there was a hesitation, a pause in their affections when it came to matters of pride and family. Amaroq—the knight of a King allied to the Rike, and Avaneira—the wolf of the Greyflood, one of the Sigrun's most staunch supporters. They were delicate in their politicking, careful of where their eyes landed, for even the most perceptive of lions could perceive it as a threat.

Thus, even though she knew Amaroq was there, she spared him no glance.

Her heart wrenched. Oh, how she wanted to sit by him, to revel in his chaotic energy.

Instead, she made her way toward @Ophelia, @Tullia, and @Gareth, far more familiar faces among a crowd of otherwise near-strangers. @Seneca was present, too, a once-ally of the Cove that, though held at arm's length, had never been anything but a friendly acquaintance on the other side of the peninsula. She had no reason to not wish for his brother's victory, especially against what had historically been an enemy of Magnus. Like Gareth she, too, guarded the Valour sisters. Silent, watching.

made with gunmetal bones and wolf's teeth
a warrior, a soldier

Take their women and cubs.

Kieran had not gone to the Oasis; he'd be there to see Amara through her challenge, couldn't bare the thought of letting her face it alone. Grief burned everything it touched, and in its scars left a flood of ire. Of hate. What once had been sacred was now desecrated, fucked over and over again by lions who'd held years-long vendettas against them for what? For surviving, for persisting? Kieran spared no words nor thoughts to any others who lingered along the perimeter. He ignored the safety of observing and politicking in favor of chaos and ruination. He would destroy and take the first thing he touched—and it would have been that cub, had @Aidoneus not been in the way.

Thus, he set his sights on her. She who was the most revered, the most delectable prize.

Kieran spared no thought for honor in battle. Thus, he attempted to approach the striped woman from behind, hoping to take her by surprise; as he neared and closed the distance between them, his right paw came upward, and attempted to slam down onto her right shoulder. Though his claws were unsheathed, his focus was on the brute force of his paw lurching downward, hoping to put pressure on the bone rather than slice through her flesh with his claws.

He'd no rank to steal her. So he'd simply ruin her, instead.

Kieran vs Aidoneus
for minor maim
i of iv

Hits:

Rolling 8d20: 1 + 4 + 3 + 16 + 10 + 6 + 18 + 11

Dodges:

Rolling 4d20: 3 + 10 + 2 + 1

Luck:

Rolling 5d20: 20 + 11 + 14 + 18 + 1

The young ambassador trailed behind @Roan, as he usually did during such events. He followed with a mild frown on his muzzle, his expression troubled while he seated himself next to his leader. “They certainly picked a good day to try to kick someone out of their home,” he mumbled quietly, his voice too low to carry beyond the bubble they shared. Hiccup had no opinion on the Bluffs, not really. He knew they were … rowdy, but he’d never really paid attention to them. He was usually too busy looking elsewhere to notice their doings.

A look around found no Amara, though the scent of the Bluffs was in the air. It made him anxious, wondering where she was, if she would answer the challenge by bringing her war party. But it seemed one soldier had moved ahead of the pack — a molted lion launched an assault on an Andal lioness, causing Hiccup’s ears to twist back on his skull. He noted her close proximity to a pair of children and sighed out. “That didn’t take long,” he said as he looked to Roan.

+5 Observe a challenge and learn the results

coded by flea | artwork by ale-tie

Where @Hiccup was she was never far behind. The dark girl followed closely as they moved towards the gathered crowd. Tensions were high already, with a secondary fight launching in to action as they arrived. It brought a frown to her lips, flexing her muscles and preparing her defended just in case.

“So much anger,” she mumbled as she slid alongside her friend. Asteria narrowed her own gaze on the wheat king; she would never forgive him for what he had done to Saga.

Pressing up alongside her best friend she watched the happenings with a wary eye, curious what the outcome would be.

image to acrylic ❧ code to kay!

// BARBARIAN EXP: +5 Watch a fight // SLEUTH EXP: +5 Gather useful information on a enemy lion or pride Still affected by her mother's death, Ragna have had struggling with finding ambition in anything anymore. Finding it painful to be here without her mother brough her into a deep sadness and hurt. But knowing cubs depended on her she needed to stay strong, for them for the rest of the Sigrun. She comes to the pit, taking a seat by @Asteria and @Hiccup. Just to watch over them, feeling the need to, the wish to. But if she had to fight she will, she wasnt in the mood, in the mood to let any idiots to mess with her and those she loved, not again... She turns to Asteria with a question in mind. "It's what happened to my mother caused by them?, please tell me." If it was the case no more questions needed.

Art and Code by Cloudy

fire — the heathen saw fire everywhere she looked, burning in the corners of her eyes as another sought to try and rip their home from beneath them. had they not all learned that wolfbron would not bend to their whims, and that they would not break beneath the weight of their opposition? if so, cassine supposed that today would serve as a stark and vivid reminder that the bluffs belonged to them, and no one else.

and so, snaking her way towards the pit, she is an image of fury incarnate with her seething gaze, barred ivory fangs, and hackles that were already raised in predatory fashion. it did not take her long to spot the mass of bodies that had begun to accumulate around the arena, nor the fact that it was andal - again - that was trying to usurp them. so be it.

unfettered by the rest, and encouraged by the fact that @Kieran was moving in to take the first bite, cassine would waste no time on setting her sights upon one of the other women in the crowd — one that seemed to forget how to mind her tongue, as she roared and raved for the would-be challenger. frankly, that was more than enough for cassine to lunge in her direction, a guttural sound ripping from her chest as she chose @Alma as her target.

attempting to approach from behind the andal lioness (similar to her cousin’s tactic), it was at the last moment that cassine’s hind legs would tense, muscles winding before she sought to leap at the other woman and, hopefully, catch her somewhat off guard. as cassine leapt, both forelimbs aimed to outstretch, attempting to sink her claws into the flesh of alma’s hindquarters, on both sides, in an effort to obtain a secure grip — just like she would a gazelle.


@Cassine vs. @Alma
for minor maim
round one out of four
Hits:

Rolling 4d20: 18 + 8 + 4 + 19

Dodges:

Rolling 6d20: 11 + 12 + 19 + 16 + 8 + 20

Luck:

Rolling 5d20: 3 + 18 + 11 + 2 + 9

_{BG — ART — CODE}

Morrigan heard the call for Amara's throne over the sounds of the ever constant storms, but it did not come from the mountain peaks like she might have expected. Instead it came from the rain-sodden pit and the man who called for her crown hailed from the Oasis. She scowled at the faces of several enemies present already in the rapidly growing crowd, two fights having already broken out before she could even reach the challenge. @Avaneira was the first figure she would approach, brushing her side and she took a seat next to her, waiting to see if the violence would spread to include the Vermedans.

table by ferus, art by mono

Whoever held the Bluffs wasnt coming, and she was growing bored. "Start already damn it!" She said as frustration filled her voice, tonge rolling free without fear of what others could think. She never minded that, she said whatever the fuck she wanted to.

But as she waited it seemed the Bluff's lions couldnt fight head on, as like the last fight the enemy when to attack from behind like the losses that attacked her. Cowards! She would sit down, aiming to make it harder for the woman to have a firm hold. She still felt her claws on both sides of her hips, feeling the sharp end of her claws leaving bloody lines. She turns to her left lifting her left front paw with claws out, then she attempts to slam it into Cassine's face, wherever she could reach, aiming to claw her as painfully as she could.

Alma vs @Cassine
For minor maim
1 - 5
Hits:

Rolling 7d20: 7 + 16 + 2 + 18 + 8 + 5 + 20

Dodges:

Rolling 3d20: 12 + 13 + 2

Luck:

Rolling 5d20: 3 + 18 + 10 + 16 + 20

CODE • ART • BG