Waking up with the bloodstains
My state of mind is a hurricane

There was a tenacious streak that ran through his very blood, and another vindictive thread, tracing back to ancestors he'd never known (outside of stories) and beyond. Once a target had been acquired, no true rest could come until satisfaction was found. He was, perhaps, the perfect distillation of both bloodlines' worst traits - dogged determination and vicious tendencies. A paradox of semi-predictable chaos. While no big moves had been made since the last attempt at seizing the oasis, he supposed the patchy bastard was unlikely to be surprised at this one. Ryker was, after all, fully prepared to just keep wearing an enemy down for as long as necessary.

This time, instead of the badlands, he made his way out to the pit. Perhaps it was mildly superstitious, though he wouldn't realize it. It was where he'd last won against the man, and maybe there was a subconscious hope that history might repeat in his favor. Last time had been a fluke, he was sure. One good, lucky, shot and he'd been down for the count, carted back home by...he thought Vermier based on scent clues that had lingered on his fur after he woke.

Down the path to the bottom, he'd position himself near the center of the arena. It was similar to the open sweep of the badlands in that it was very difficult to sneak up on an opponent, but still he paced, alert and eager, watching for the man's silhouette to appear above. His summons would echo up and out - so few had witnessed his defeat, he hoped more might witness his victory.

Ryker vs @Seneca
Andal Oasis take two
0/5

I'm a wild boy, ready to destroy

code by corvus

He expects little else than this. There are the ones who wear the crowns, and there are those who reach for them, greedy and hungry for a taste of that power. He knows, sooner or later, that he will be wrenched from his throne in one way or another, but Seneca is far from ready to give in easily — and when he inevitably crumbles, he intends to leave it all for Scorpius. He will grant his wealth to no one else; especially not the doggedly stubborn rat from the Bluffs. With a huff and slight shake of his skull, the scarred patriarch departs from the dunes, crosses the dry wasteland that borders his home, and heads right into the gates of hell. At the edge of the arena, he pauses, lingering for a moment and studying @Ryker with a scrutinizing gaze, his expression overwhelmingly neutral. He makes no efforts to hide his approach or to attempt some sly maneuver to catch the younger man off guard — such tactics have never been his way, even if the Wolfbron lion had left himself exposed. After a few moments of silence and stillness, he descends the steep wall opposing Ryker, his haunches folding beneath him to control his slide into the arena. Upon reaching the level ground, Seneca breaks into a trot, his stride lacking haste or anger. There is little point in trying to bull-rush the other from such a position, so he doesn't waste the energy with such momentum, and simply seeks to close the gap between them from a steady head-on angle. When a few yards remain between them, the sovereign surges forth with a powerful lunge, attempting to rapidly eat up the remaining space with a flurry of action; his toes curl into the dirt, and Seneca's left foreleg seeks to swing up rapidly and with force, attempting to slam his grit-laden paw into Ryker's right eye — ideally hoping to temporarily blind him with dust and rock. A few seconds later, hoping the attack from his leg is a worthy distraction, his jaws surge forward and slightly towards his left, attempting to sink his teeth mercilessly into the bony socket encasing his opponent's left eye. seneca vs ryker for andal oasis move one of five Hits: Rolling 8d20: 3 + 14 + 5 + 11 + 8 + 16 + 20 + 19 Dodges: Rolling 5d20: 15 + 13 + 10 + 12 + 14 Luck: Rolling 5d20: 6 + 9 + 3 + 19 + 1

molten eyes and a smile made for war

code // art // do not use without permission

The call for ones throne was something Pyracantha wasn't used to, atleast not yet, so when she hears the call, her light feet lead her away from the safety of the Aviary and into the pit, she's intrigued by the smells and the atmosphere, but what intrigued her more is the fight going on. Her lilac eyes settle on the lion she'd met days ago, and the male he was fighting, though she stayed out of the way, she wasn't here to cheer anyone on. Just simply observe.

Had no one else showed up yet, was she supposed to be here? A stranger to the people of the land and land itself. The gold and sapphire etched porcelain doll would simply shrug to her own question and settle back, watching with idle eyes, wanting to know who would be the victor, and who would fall.

code by corvus

Last time, she had been barely able to move after a fight for the Bluffs but this time she would come. She arrived on full guard. She wouldn't let herself be caught off guard by anyone. Amara watched from above as Seneca wasted no time jumping into the fight. She made her way down to the main area so she could get a better view. A strange lioness was there, Amara didn't know her so maybe she was with the Oasis. A hard look was tossed her way before the black lioness moved to her own space to watch things. She scanned the area carefully, on edge every single moment. It had been a while since the two prides clashed so she knew that everyone would be on edge. She hoped that Ryker would win this time, if nothing else, it would be nice to scatter the Oasis to the wind.

Table by Ice. Graphic by Lars.

At this point, Seraphiel had a feeling they would've been better off if he'd seriously maimed the man during their little spar in the pit. But, he wasn't that way, and so here the stranger from the Bluffs was again to cause trouble.

The last time the Bluffs and Oasis had gathered for a fight there had been chaos, and so Seraphiel was on his guard as he came to this place, and he had told Solanum to stay at home. Whether or not she listened was another story entirely, and if he happened to notice the cub following after him on his way there then, well, he'd just have to go back and carry her the rest of the way because her little legs would've been hard pressed to make the trip.

Either way, he was here now, and he watched the battle below as he remained up at the top of the arena. Amara had already made her way down closer to the combatants, so far the only member of the Bluffs to arrive and observe, as he was the only one from the Oasis. It was too soon to hope they could get through this without other fights breaking out, but for the moment all was well.

It was about damn time.

Louve had not forgotten (and never would) the Andal brats. A chance to see them potentially lose their home was not one she was going to miss, and she was hot on the heels of her mother.

Without hesitation she took a seat at Amara's side, yellowed gaze sliding over the gathered few. There were none there that she knew and so she did not bother to pay much attention, turning her focus entirely to the fight. There was the faintest flicker of surprise that no other's had come, yet, though she stayed on guard all the same.

They would appear, inevitably, and if they turned their thirsty gaze her way she would be ready.

A VOICE MADE OF TEETH

table by sentinel / art

how curious.

to helah, it seemed calls for another's thrones happened in this land a lot. which, she found quite the pity, as when she called for a land... she wanted that call to shake the land to it's core.

it was annoying to her, that someone could be stealing her thunder- and yet she is beckoned by the call.

as she approaches the pit, her mouth is parted as she tastes the air- and it is as if she can taste the battle itself. she approaches silently, lowering down into the pit with each stride, and finally comes to sit there- where she can watch and wait to see what happens.

lazily, she begins grooming her paw- her eyes on the battle, but... giving the illusion that she wasn't much paying attention.

ART BY MOOGLE, CODE BY LARS

she is curious, when she hears the challenge. curiosity drives her forward, from her own ventures down to the pit- from an easy stroll into an easy lope. as she arrives, she sees the fight has begun, and that @Seneca is locked into battle with a male who smelled of the bluffs.

ghyslaine would venture down, aiming to come near @Amara with a friendly nod, as she would take a seat, watching the fight with interest. it would do her well, to know if the oasis would be taken from the miroslav male- such a change in leadership would be important to her and violarum, and she didn't know if her friend would feel like coming to watch, so she could take her own information to him- if he didn't.

she notes, @Seraphiel , and if the male were to look her way, she would offer him a small smile, wondering how his adoptee was doing. yet she would not approach him, merely wishing to spectate.

_{ART BY YUMPY}

Waking up with the bloodstains
My state of mind is a hurricane

There was no fanfare, no posturing or declarations of impending victory. His opponent arrived before the rest of the crowd, and Ryker's attention locked onto the man as soon as his figure became visible above. His pacing came to a halt as he shifted to face the reigning sovereign and watch his approach. He would find no cocky declarations from Ryker today - there was pride on the line, and a desire for revenge from their last clash, but this was primarily business. Andal remained an enemy to the bluffs, and enemies could not be allowed to survive any longer than possible.

It was an easy shift into a defensive and ready stance as Seneca reached the bottom, yellow gaze narrowing as the man approached. So when his opponent surged forward, he was ready. A quick, short, jump an inch or two backward and to his own left came as soon as the patchy man's left forelimb started upward. He'd take the gritty slap to left side of his muzzle and nose instead of directly in the eye, huffing the dust out of his nostrils and ignoring the flare of discomfort that signaled an imminent bruise.

His motion back and to his left was also an attempt to put him more toward Seneca's right side, which had proven to be a slightly more advantageous position in the past.

As fangs came toward his face, he would tuck his chin and present the boney flat of his skull, rocking forward and attempting to headbutt his opponent directly in the nose with the hopes of causing enough bleeding and bruising that it would be harder for the man to breathe later should he ever get a mouthful of flesh. On Ryker's end, it would result in, at the very least, a deep bruise across the top of his head should the counter connect - depending on exact position he may also suffer lacerations from the other's teeth.

Ryker vs @Seneca
Andal Oasis
1/5
Hits:

Rolling 7d20: 3 + 6 + 7 + 14 + 20 + 12 + 19

Dodges:

Rolling 3d20: 3 + 16 + 8

Luck:

Rolling 5d20: 15 + 7 + 3 + 19 + 2

I'm a wild boy, ready to destroy

code by corvus

it is a vie for attention, and the sai dutifully adheres. curiosity a vice for a youthful mind not yet familiar with political climate, not yet introduced to the ever-changing hands of power. but as she approaches the colosseum with careful step, it becomes more and more apparent that the summons were intended to preface violence – not to address a crowd, as slaine had. the metallic tang of blood a quickly-growing cloak about the arena as she slips into the stands’ nosebleeds, soundlessly joining the crowd. and while the threat of danger lingers here, setting her nerves aflame, mars’ exterior is a deceitful portrait of the cool and collected. reclining upon her haunches with a fervent gaze trained upon the champions at the center of the ring, expression unreadable.

he, who ensnares the majority of her attention, is the older of the opponents: painted with clouds and littered with scars. there exists a familiarity about him that the child cannot quite pinpoint, but she finds herself partial to his victory despite not knowing what they grapple for. critical of his each and every offensive maneuver from her vantage point, intending only to learn by observation in the hopes of sharpening her lacking battle prowess.

image by moogle/code by saph