The child was not to be confined to the humid confines of the swamp, not when larger and more exciting events were occurring in the world beyond. But Varujan was surreptitious in his effort to follow in the wake of his mother, fearing she might tell him to stay put, so he trailed behind her at a distance, mindful to keep his steps quiet and to duck out of sight should she look his way. The child noted with curiosity the way she had rolled around on the earth, obscuring her scent which made her that much more difficult to track, so the boy was forced to reduce the space between them just as they arrived at their destination – the Pit. The stone stadium hummed with noise and energy, and he closed the distance between him and his mother out of reflex, becoming a silver shadow tagged at her ankles.

A roving gaze was pulled in all directions before finally settling on his father, who stood at the forefront of the chaos, and his ruby eyes had grown wide with an arrogant sort of enthusiasm. His mother had a different objective, it seemed, and Varujan felt a surge of jealousy rush through him when he noticed that her attention was gifted not to him, but to a strange looking cub, one so tiny it might accidentally be stepped on by the adults. He frowned, his eyes narrowing as he padded forward to investigate, attempting to sniff the top of Tokyo's head. “What is it, mama?” His question was reluctantly curious as he stepped back; he wasn’t sure he wanted to know the creature who stole his mothers attention from him.

@Gabrielle @Tokyo

code by corvus

DRAGOS

A dark red ear pulls around, ruffling his mane, to follow the direction of the voice coming his way. His gaze follows, watching as a banded girl waltzes his way, her eyes bright and full of something he knows immediately: mischief. "By all means," the Savante replies a beat later, as if she isn’t comfortably beside him already.

"Know much about ‘em?" Dragos’s head cranes toward the pit, where the challenger stands. "I saw ‘em at the Lagoon, a drunk woman and the other one." He speaks softly, as if to gossip simply between themselves, and to make it easier to speak and definitely not as an excuse to get closer, Dragos leans his bulk into the lioness’s side.

@Léonie

coded by flea

Gabrielle had her full attention on the small child before her, hoping to help in any kind of way, that was until she felt the familiar brush from underneath her, and watched as jealousy filled her child's eyes. The mother would chuckle and nuzzle her little shadow, slipping into Romanian as she spoke to her son, "Taci, umbra mea mică, e un copil...." She groomed the top of his head and allowed hiim to investigate the baby leopard, her eyes moved to Adeo, and she caught sight of Tanaz, causing her to look away quickly.

Jealousy stabbed at her own heart and she had half a mind to leave, but she didn't, not with her son present. She bent her head low again to address her child, "Stay close to mama." She spoke in voice mor3e stern than she usually used

code by anyu

He hardly saw a point in leaving the pit in those days, for how frequently the calls came. Bruno made quick work of scouring Amaryllis, his breathing steady as he raced through the plains to reach that familiar arena. He opted to veer once he approached the scene, attempting to hide himself away in the rocky crags of the outer pit. There, he would press himself low to the earth in an effort to stay out of sight – let the beasts be distracted, drooling at the spectacle instead of him.

Bruno locked his eyes on the poised challenger in the center, his brows lifting with naïve surprise. There was Ecrosia's very own noble, standing poised and proud as he called for the summit's crown. Delight blossomed in his chest at the notion of the meddling lionesses having their power stripped, even if he was not too familiar with the lion who sought to do it. Better an Ecrosian than an enemy. The boy sneered with silent delight, lifting a pointed claw to his mouth to begin carving around his teeth with it.

---

|| may y9 | 1y 9m | EM royalty | at the pit | HIDING ||
+10 - Observe a fight
+10 - Maintain your weapons

+20 - Successfully stay hidden for the duration of a thread
double EXP in threads started/completed Dec 29 - Jan 29

_CODE

The hairy beast accepted her company there on the sidelines, and Léonie — being Léonie — lowered her body beside his, so they could better chat in hushed tones. She was very aware of the press of his body into hers, which she welcomed. He was fuzzy and warm, and she liked that.

“Ecrosia Mire,” she informed him, a mischievous smile on her muzzle. The Miroslav imp spoke quietly, not only to keep listening ears from eavesdropping, but because it gave her the excuse to lean into him. Her heart quickened a little at the touch, yet her cheeky mask hid the thrill well. “They’re the largest pride in Amaryllis. I think they have close to fifty members, half of them children.” Those children would grow up, though, and when they did … “They’ll have an entire generation loyal to them,” Léonie reckoned, her voice hardly even a whisper.

Moving her muzzle closer to his ear, she added, “This is not the second or even third time they’ve tried this. There was the … whatever the fuck that was in the Lagoon. Before that, it was the Oasis, the Rainforest, too— oh! And the Hollow.” Okay, yes, the challenge for the Hollow had involved a friend of hers, and she would’ve readily followed him there had he won— but that wasn’t really important. Vághan didn’t count.

What may have been gossip to others was information to Léonie. She didn’t hesitate to share it, especially if it meant feeding the dissatisfaction that she believed the male felt. “How long have you been in Amaryllis?” she inquired. He wasn’t familiar, and seemed not to know much about the Mire and their long history of uprooting families. Léonie had every reason to assume he was new to the land.

@Dragos

artwork | css

DRAGOS

She is clearly as eager to ‘share information’ as Dragos is to collect it; she leans in, whispering about this pride called Ecrosia. Their numbers, their children. "Goddamn," the Savante hums, somewhat impressed by the sheer number alone. "They been standing long?" Dragos thinks they must have, to be so big and with so many ambitious lions willing to leave it for their own glory.

The girl goes on, commenting on the number of times the Mire lions have tried to overtake other prides - sometimes winning, perhaps. Other times not. He whistles, low and long. "That’s an army waiting to happen." A lot of angry, hormonal yearlings on a battlefield… even untrained, that is a dangerous thing. Pity whoever pissed them off.

"A couple months," he answers easily, utterly unphased by the change of subject. He is always happy to talk about himself, after all. "My family came over a few months before that. I got lost." He grins, giving the half truth. He leans a little more of his weight into her shoulder. "Glad I made it, though, the view is splendid." His brows wiggle over bright, humour filled eyes. This might be corny, but it’s also testing the waters; she’s friendly, overly so, but he isn’t a man to assume anything.

@Léonie

coded by flea

All of these challenges, were a great chance to her to praise the one and only!

Marja may as well never leave the pit if these challenges were to continue, and she barreled onto this scene, the prayer already leaving her- "pust vas vybor pobedit!" "pust vas vybor--" She stopped when she saw who was challenging... Not the mean one.

Well, that changed things. Marja, aimed to march as close as possible to him, so that she could stick out her tongue and blow a raspberry, before cursing him aloud to her God. "imeetsya vie vidoux odin perelom nogui!" She spits, her fur fluffing up as she spits at him. @Adeodatus

Whomever he was fighting had to win, because Mean one's head would get too big if he won, Marja was sure of it.

*imeetsya vie vidoux odin perelom nogui! - Mean one break leg! is the curse!

always alone and unwanted

I don't mean to be so crass about the situation -- But it's easier than breaking down -- The reasoning your loose interpretation --
In a sea of motherfuckers, man, you were no salvation

code by corvus| art by riot

This day was long awaited. From nearly the moment she had first heard the distant rumble and realized a once completely impassable trail had been opened she had known that someone would try to take it from her. The gift to herself and Talisa from the very gods themselves. There was no convincing the frozen queen otherwise. It belonged to her and those she called kin, sacred as the Brook. The north was meant to be held by the Valour. And it would be, as long as Morrigan and progeny lived to defend it.

Her head was bowed in prayer to every fallen comrade she had, sitting just outside the Pit as she breathed deeply, thinking of each of them. Her mother and sister. Farrow... one of their last conversations had been promises to each other to care for @Talisa should anything happen to either of them. It was a not a promise she had wanted to make good on quite so soon. And of course she thought of those who she knew to still linger as her prayers to the gods and the dead for the strength to win finished.

“Valhalla, lend me your hearts, your will, so that I might continue to protect your legacies.” Her eyes opened to reveal metallic, hard silver and cold amethyst as she rose and continued her descent, down the path to face the one who had dared call for her. She saw him, ruby eyed like Vermier, waiting for her there. The scent of Ecrosia was strong, but she only had eyes for her would be usurper for the moment as she paused to look down on him.

“You think you can take what the gods gave to us? The Summit will reject you. Violently.” Looking at the others now, Morrigan saw he had a fair amount of support already gathered. But so did she. She saw Talisa and attempted to meet her eyes, an almost regretful look at her before she shifted her attention to the others, looking at each member of the Summit present in turn that she could see just as a sinister grin caused the split over her left canine to show more prominently.

“Warriors of Illyria,” she commanded, “Give any who support him a taste of what awaits him in the Summit should I fall.” Morrigan had grown tired of dancing around the inevitable. If they so badly slavered for war, then let them have it.

Narrowing her eyes, Morrigan would begin her approach in usual fashion, head on with a charge, full body weight behind it as she moved toward her opponent. She would keep it simple but bloody as always. She would attempt to jut her right shoulder forward, aiming to drive it against the soft point at the front of his right shoulder where it met his chest, prepared for the bruising that always came from attempting such things. Her open jaws would attempt to grasp for the back of the same right shoulder in hopes of gaining a grip on him.

Her tail lashed but stayed low and out of his reach as often as could be managed while ears flattened against her skull. He had a slight advantage in size, but Morrigan had never been fazed by such things. Especially not now when she held the belief that she fought for what was rightfully hers.

@Morrigan vs. @Adeodatus
For Illyria Summit
Round I / V
Hits:

Rolling 8d20: 4 + 9 + 13 + 1 + 19 + 14 + 15 + 17

Dodges:

Rolling 4d20: 12 + 13 + 4 + 6

Luck:

Rolling 6d20: 9 + 4 + 12 + 1 + 17 + 11

table by ferus, art by grav3wolf

Reah crept forward, hearing a commotion going on deep within the crater of the pit. She peered over some rocks, her dark gaze glimmering with curiosity. It seemed just as she had looked down, a black and white lioness was charging at a gray-colored lion. The tip of her tail twitched, anticipation swelling in her chest. She would begin to carefully make her way closer to the violence, quietly leaping down upon each stone. Deeper into the crater she would go, blending in with the shadows.

She would take her seat, staying completely silent. She didn’t want to partake in any violence today. Instead, she would simply observe the events that would transpire today within the crater.

-
Medic XP - Attend a spar or challenge to assess the wounds_{BG — ART — CODE}

It was hard to miss a bunch of lions suddenly gathering in one location. Out of curiosity, Lilliana followed suit. Only to crinkle her nose at the realization that she was once again in the terribleness of the pit.

Assessing the going ons, this appeared far more serious than some spar however. She she lowered her head and kept on moving. Wary not to simply stand and gawk for someone to notice her.

Her green eyes then found the familiar form of her cousin @Dragos. She also caught that he was not alone. How could she miss it? The two were cuddled up and seemed quite acquainted to one another.

Lilliana trotted toward them, shoving her behind right on the other side of Dragos. Hello! She sang, leaning around to greet @Léonie but not before giving her kin a devious look. Oh she knew exactly what she was doing! I'm Lilliana! The Savante continued. What'd I miss? The question left for either to answer as she turned her attention the fight.

art by Deej