A hazel trifecta of gold, green, and brown glitter in what pale slivers of sunlight manage to pierce the deep shadows of the arena’s diameter where the woman arrives, her chestnut form swathed in darkness before she emerges from the path that led her to the base of this stone stadium. Pregnancy had softened her brawny figure in all the necessary ways that motherhood does, but her babes were older now and more independent, and the Evengard woman decided it was time to reclaim some of her own independence and return her form to the fighting prime it had been before that fateful night she had spent with the silver Devorre.

Her gaze sweeps over the stone amphitheater with a gleam in their depths, enthusiasm betrayed in small hints across her expression, although there was a note of caution pulsing in her bloodstream as she surveyed the landscape. As out of the loop as she was, she was uncertain the political landscape of the world in this season, and could not anticipate how an Ecrosian might be received by an unknown rival. Still, as the lioness makes her way towards the center of the arena – a clear signal to any onlooker of her interest in a spar – she hopes that this neutral zone, and her own easy posture, might attract a likewise neutral opponent. So she hopes, and so she waits.

Tanaz vs. ??
For spar
0/3

code by dee, art by spu

A duitiful little shadow of sorts was not far behind @Tanaz as she left the Mire to stretch her legs. Through some effort and some of simply being Imrae the young daughter was not terribly loud on the trek. She had plenty to look at and plenty to occupy her own mind when she was not focused on tracking the scent of her mother to this strange place. When she arrived and ruby eyes peered deep into the pit they watched with steeled admiration at Tanaz there. But what was mother waiting for Imrae wondered? The young child had seen, and participated in, plenty of wrestling matches with her littermates and other siblings. But the idea of adults fighting and basically doing the same was still a little outside of her world sphere.

speech

He should be resting, not wandering the Pit. The warmonger was restless, however, even when sore and still healing. Wounds were packed with an herb paste still, hinting that his wounds were still quite fresh. The war-torn dark brown beast would wander with nothing in particular in mind until he came across the sight of a tiny cub in the dome, smelling distinctly of the Mire. Lips would curl in frustration, the very movement causing his facial wounds under his eye to sting. The large beast would approach, eyes shifting from cub to adult in the distance, a look of disapproval on his façade.

Eyes would shift to the cub, this is not a place for cubs, go home. He would rumble, ordering the girl to leave, gaze flicking back to the woman, was she the mother? He did not know, but he would find out. The warmonger would continue on, making his way down into the deeper throws of the Pit to meet the clay woman. She too would smell of the Mire and he would shake his head slightly. He should not fight her… and yet… part of Ronin wanted to teach her and the cub a lesson in bringing a child to a place like this. This was a place for violence, not for children to spectate at such a young age…here…anything could happen. Your child watches. They should not be here. Ronin would nod his head in the direction of the Pits rim where he had passed the cub. That was all the warning she would get from him, however. He would surge forward, the jarring motion causing muscles to protest with soreness across his body, but that soreness he would ignore. He was a warmonger and when restless, the beasts would fight.

Jaws would fall open so that as he neared it would appear that he was going for a bite, his head on approach hopefully helping to solidify that fact. Yet, at the last second he his head would shift, his shoulders rolling forward and his direction partially changing in an attempt to slam into her with his right shoulder trying to meet her chest. She was a large opponent- as large as him even- so he did not hold back or soften his charge. Jaws would finally be put to use in an attempt to bite into her flesh wherever he could. Ronin merely wanted to cause damage. He didn’t care how.



Ronin vs @Tanaz
For Spar
Round 1/3
Hits:

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

Dodges:

Rolling 3d20: 6 + 13 + 17

Luck:

Rolling 5d20: 3 + 6 + 10 + 15 + 12

Ice gave permission to edit the dice typo

Much like @Ronin, Sláine's nose followed the scent of the Mire, or specifically, one of it's younger members. The queen approached the lip of the fighting pit, unknowingly arriving after Ronin, several minutes later. She had caught the scent of a cub on the bitter winter air, coupled with the scent of Ecrosia, it was enough to concern her for its safety.
Sapphire gaze fell upon the small figure of @Imrae and nostrils widened to confirm the identification of the child as she stopped alongside the cub. "Where is yer ma, wee one?" The lioness asked, before allowing her gaze to travel down into the pit.

It seemed that @Tanaz was in search of an opponent and had indeed, found one. Just as the Scot's vision had landed upon them, Ronin launched his attack. She was too far away to hear any words spoken between the pair but the sight of the Svend male attacking yet another Ecrosian member rankled the queen. Sláine opened out a paw to the cub, an offering of comfort should she need it. "Watch together?" She asked the child, though she was barely able to take her eyes off the spar.

It was just a practise bout. A game. A strengthening of skill. She tells herself. Not an attack against the Mire itself. Surely not, she thinks, as the anxiety grows.

ART BY IRISH / CODING BY SENTINEL

A faint prickle at the nape of her neck alerted Tanaz to a watchful gaze; she expected such, standing centerfold in the arena as she was and yet as she tilted her head and allowed her gaze to move over the empty stadium for her would-be adversary or audience, she did not note the shape of her daughter until after she caught the silhouette of a lion moving away from her. They had been close – too close – and although he was descending into the pit, the new mother was left with her heart thumping uncomfortably in her throat. Hazel eyes glittered illegibly as he approached, his posture brimming with an intention that Tanaz cared little for; she had come to train, but her daughter was here now and that shifted the dynamic. She had to keep Imrae safe, and suddenly she felt the responsibility of motherhood laid across her shoulders in an impossibly heavy way.

There was some silver lining in the way the battered warrior did not mince his words, but the latent authority in them rankled the chestnut cat in an inexplicable way. Perhaps because in a practical sense, he was right, but Tanaz felt a surge of protective pride for the initiative her daughter had taken, for the bravery and cleverness Imrae had utilized in order to make her way all the way from the Mire to this submerged arena without being detected. For the intelligence she had behind those quiet, serious eyes and for how the girl had enough sense to stay out of the pit itself, and instead remained on the sidelines in benign observation. Out of any logical harms way. Why shouldn’t she observe her mother spar? The Evengard woman decided that she would not accept this off-hand remark from the stranger so easily; her daughter could be here if she pleased. This was a simple spar, after all.

Perhaps it is you who should not be here. She pointed out, nodding with a piqued brow to his recently-tended injuries, her glinting gaze never leaving his deep-earthen form. But the battered stranger allowed no time for chit chat, and the words had barely left her tongue before he surged forward and their dance began.

Her muscular haunches braced as her weight shifted backwards – she entirely expected his head-on attack, and the lioness would straighten her forelimbs and lift her chest in preparation for her idea of what was to come, jaws starting to part as she did so. She reared onto her hind legs just as his tactic shifted and he slammed into her with his right shoulder, the collision landing against her chest just beneath her two outstretched forelimbs. It knocked the wind from her chest, a horrible feeling that made her head spin and her vision blur. The fangs of his gaping jaws had raked into her forearm the moment of collision as well, the accompanying burst of pain clouded by her adrenaline. Instinct guided her forelimbs into the next logical step which was an attempt to “hug” the lion, claws deliberately outstretched in preparation to sink into whatever mane or fur or flesh they might possibly find on either side of his body. Simultaneously, her parted jaws would attempt to bite downwards, attempting to latch onto an ear or the scruff of his heavy mane, or whatever it may be, she wasn’t picky.

Tanaz vs. @Ronin
Spar
Round 1 / 3
Hits:

Rolling 6d20: 1 + 8 + 15 + 14 + 5 + 17

Dodges:

Rolling 4d20: 5 + 7 + 17 + 10

Luck:

Rolling 5d20: 4 + 10 + 15 + 9 + 8

ooc – so sorry for the length, tanaz had some character development in there that needed to be addressed.

code by dee, art by spu

Imrae's gaze shifted away from her mother in response to Ronin's voice. A rare sight overcame the calm child's face, a frown. Emotion. She did not like being told what to do by this stranger, being told she could not so cryptically and without reason. For as much as Imrae may look it she was not a robot built to obey. His statement begged the question that remained silent in Imrae's mind why?

There. She answers @Sláine with a simple, curt response. A lift of her little paw, curly fur slightly dulled with the dirt and mud of her journey, was lifted and jut in the direction of @Tanaz down in the pit across from @Ronin. An older lioness nearly the same colors of the child herself, adorned in the same veil of curly fur. A younger and older woman both cut of practically the same cloth. Most definitely mother.

It was then that the battle started, bodies clashed together in mocked fierceness. It did not appear to frighten or even impact the hard to read Imrae. Her red eyes were studiously locked downwards analytically upon the situation and for better or worse the young girl found it incredibly easy to simply pack the emotions she felt to the side. She did not find joy in her mother hurting, she hated this man for doing it, but there was nothing in her that felt the need to be acted upon. Nothing overwhelming. As if in her heart and soul Imrae already knew this thing she watched now was a fact of life. Okay. Much like her feelings on the fight itself Imrae did not oppose, nor find comfort in, the company of this other Mire member. She was content to have her sitting beside her, both fixated and focused.

speech

Her words would hit him and as she nodded to his wounded flesh with a piqued brow he would chuckle.
I’ve fought with worse. Low tones were spoken calmly though amusement still could be found- if one listed hard enough. If he had been paying more attention, he might have noted the blue figure that had appeared next to the cub, an onlooker he was not too keen to see anyway- not after their last meeting.

As expected, she would anticipate his head on attack, but that didn’t bother him. His shoulder would still collide with her chest, knocking the wind from her. She’d had the intelligence to slightly raise up so while he’d knocked the breath from her she would recover quickly. It also gave his teeth an opportunity to sink into her forearm. His shoulder was sore from the impact, leaving his right shoulder a bit stiffer than he would have liked. Unfortunately for him, his teeth did not set into a hold as she wrapped her limbs around him in a hug like fashion. Her claws would cut into his mane, reaching his skin- but only just. Needle-like pricks of pain would be felt later but with adrenaline coursing through the warmonger, he felt none of it in that moment. They would scab and heal just like the last ones had. Her jaws would puncture around his ear, with the ear actually inside her mouth. Ronin would snarl, feeling the heat of her breath and hearing it so loudly.

Ronin would flex his aching muscles, attempting to push his weight into her, hoping that the movement would be too awkward for her to keep the hold on his mouth, while also giving him the opportunity to attempt to strike out with his right paw, moving it straight forward to try and cut into the bottom of her chest/top of her belly. It seemed neither were too picky with how they damaged the other, only that they did some kind of damage. He was fine with that, this was just a simple spar and it showed in his movements and attacks, he did not outright try to viciously assault the lioness. He only sought to cause minor damage.


Ronin vs @Tanaz
For Spar
Round 2/3
Hits:

Rolling 5d20: 18 + 5 + 13 + 8 + 20

Dodges:

Rolling 3d20: 11 + 7 + 1

Luck:

Rolling 5d20: 10 + 4 + 20 + 17 + 18

I’ve fought with worse. And Tanaz believed him.

While the Evengard woman was certain she could not do the same level of damage to him as his opponent, the lioness was distantly pleased to have managed a grip on him. His ear inside her mouth, her claws clutched in the thickness of his mane. The sentiment was distant; the chestnut cat was preoccupied with the throbbing pain in her forearm from his teeth and her efforts to catch her breath from the wind that did not seem to want to return to her lungs.

Preoccupied as she was, the weight that he pressed into her was enough to offset her balance. She felt her hind legs slipping back, the writhing of her tail doing far too little to keep the woman upright, accompanied quickly by the sharp pain of claws striking across her chest. What little breath she could spare hissed past her teeth as they parted from her grip on his ear, gravity not allowing her to keep a hold. Instead, as she tumbled backward – now she was practically seated, but with her balance pivoting on her tailbone, rather than her hips – her claws would flex in an attempt to emphasize her grip on his mane, and her jaws would attempt to snap around the lion’s snout or general face area. It was a strange position to be in with someone so unknown, but such was the way of battle sometimes. For all the pain and discomfort, the endorphins inspired by a good fight, by the chance to flex her muscles beyond what was required of motherhood, was worth it. Hopefully.

Tanaz vs. @Ronin
Spar
Round 2 / 3
Hits:

Rolling 6d20: 2 + 19 + 5 + 9 + 1 + 16

Dodges:

Rolling 4d20: 15 + 20 + 2 + 10

Luck:

Rolling 5d20: 3 + 16 + 15 + 4 + 20

code by dee, art by spu

speech

He’d expected some resistance, some form of fight back but there had been none. Her weight shifted back, her tail lashing out to assist in balance but to no avail. His claws would rake down her chest causing her to hiss with pain and he would respond with a rumbling chuckle. The warmonger was thrilled that he was causing pain, but he did so at a measured rate, controlling how much he put into his attacks. Had he known Slaine was in the background, he may not have- just out of anger, but perhaps even she would note how he kept from doing too much to her precious soldiers. His intent was to hone his own skills, not compromise the defenders of his daughters.

His opponent would end up rocked back into an awkward sitting position, her claws digging in more firmly into his neck, causing more blood to flow as they made their way deeper into his neck. He would assume this was to give her some semblance of balance by using him as an anchor. Jaws would come for his face, but his jaws were waiting- freed from the arm that he had torn into previously. Her teeth would wrap around his upper jaw and muzzle, blood would flow freely as teeth cut into the roof of his mouth and atop his muzzle. Ronin would snarl from the pain, now he had to smell her rotten breath. Great. His lower jaw would attempt to snap shut on her lower jaw. The warmonger would also attempt to shove her back further, so that her balance would completely topple and he would be on top of her.


Ronin vs @Tanaz
For Spar
Round 3/3
Hits:

Rolling 5d20: 5 + 6 + 12 + 10 + 3

Dodges:

Rolling 3d20: 15 + 20 + 14

Luck:

Rolling 5d20: 6 + 1 + 10 + 18 + 19

Her balance continues to shift, her position hanging on by a thread, or more appropriately, by the claws tangled in his mane that have bloodied the skin beneath the earthen hair. Tanaz feels her jaws land in his muzzle, the top of his mouth in hers. She knows instantly it was not the most secure position to be in - naturally the lion has a jaw hinged to his mouth, and sure enough, she feels it close around her own. Pain erupts from her lower jaw, and the tongue inside her mouth that he bites into. Blood pools and drips from the corners of her lips, and despite the pain she makes an effort to maintain her hold, her head tilting to do so as she feels his weight continue to push against her. She does not protest this effort - there is some method to her madness as her front paws release their grip from his mane and she falls backward. She would then attempt, with her hind legs, to kick with clawed mitts at the underbelly of the lion. They were arguably the strongest part of her body, and she hoped sacrificing her balance to achieve this position might not have been in vain. There is an ache in her arm and chest and back, and thick crimson blurs into the chestnut of her coat before falling to the gray earth beneath them. Tanaz had wanted to get back in the game, and this was surely a way to do it.

Tanaz vs. @Ronin
Spar
Round 3 / 3
Hits:

Rolling 6d20: 15 + 1 + 8 + 6 + 2 + 4

Dodges:

Rolling 4d20: 2 + 20 + 8 + 6

Luck:

Rolling 5d20: 20 + 9 + 1 + 14 + 7

code by dee, art by spu