Part vampire Part warrior
Carnivore and voyeur
Arid summer-sunlight lances the heavenly clouds; each jewelled slant of sunshine glinting like vermeil gold against the body of blue skies. One might find beauty in the array of heavenly light, in the harping melodies of life and rich, festering abundance. Yet the wendigo is far removed from his forests; far from his ruinous temples of pine and black earth and rotten carrion, made of blood, ice and snow.

He breathes in the rich, dusty atmosphere with a callous distaste, the throbbing warmth of midday heat as it scrawls like fire against his wintery-flesh. He feels aggravation, curling his lips into a wicked scowl. Unaccompanied by the December chill, by the scent of decay and freshly spilled blood - how foreign the sensation, then, the caress of unbridled warmth and summery ambience, as it settles strangely against his flesh. Summer and sunshine, so unlike his ethereal aesthetic; he feels cursed, like a vampire avoiding the light.

But, eventually, it is the scent of dried blood - so dewy and aged - that draws the wendigo here; that accompanies his restless spirit with each volatile and wicked step. His powerful frame ripples against the dust, his talons raking against stiff, brittle earth as a rumbling snarl escapes beastly jaws. To find release; to find pleasure - his heart, all but snarling with invitations to violence.

Harou vs. ???
for Dominance
0 of 3

we all feed on tragedy,
it's like blood to a vampire

She, too, is out of place.

It is because of him, of course. Him and his brothers ( and the curse that lays, dormant, in their blood ) bare the weight of that, but the little wolf has long since given up on seeing justice done. Revenge, too, is out of the question now -- it is only survival that propels her from the icy reaches of the north to follow him here.

She knows least of @Harou -- the others had been more forthcoming with the displeasure of their presence. But she would know him anywhere. Seeing him here, now, amongst all the new summer growth feels wrong; her stomach twists and writhes, a pit growing there that first appeared the night she and her sisters had been stolen.

He does not deserve to be in a place like this. Even the pit, bloodstained and aged, is far too nice a place for this god.

Quietly, she keeps her steps light as he descends into the arena. Her coloring is stark against the landscape but surely he will be too busy, ravenous with bloodlust, to note her appearance. Still, she presses to the shadows of the walls -- lingering on the higher steps of the pit, not ready to descend just yet. Or ever.

Instead, she watches and waits -- curious to see what he will do, here. Eager to see why he was brought here, and she in chains behind him.

fao is attempting to "hide" & is watching

_{ART — CODE}

She creeps through the sparse brush like a shadow, moving silently as she takes in a long and deep breath. A scent is here- someone... she does not know, and she makes a move to peer over the edge of the pit- to study them, to potentially watch a fight, if one is to proceed. There is a small quake, that ushers through her as he snarls- but not of fear, but desire as she watches the beast.

She waits to see who will come to answer such a call, who will let him release whatever is pent within, and when silence passes and no one does... Helah takes in a breath, and exhales quietly with a slow spreading smile. She weighs her slow healing wounds, the bite marks to her neck and shoulders, and knows that it is foolish to engage with another without being fully healed and yet...

Helah aims to move as silently as possible down the pit, aiming to come towards him from behind- trying to pick up speed as she nears, before she aims lunge forward in an attempt to plant splaying jaws right into his right hip, if she is so lucky, while at the same time- aiming to grab ahold of his leg with her front left paw if she can manage. Every movement sends a rusty jolt of pain through her, but still- she's foolish enough to see if she can win... even if she's wounded.

Of course she knows, that one wrong move and he would have heard her and all her effort would have been in vain, but she had to try.

Helah vs Harou
For Dominance
Round 1/3
Hits:

Rolling 6d20: 19 + 8 + 18 + 7 + 15 + 10

Dodges:

Rolling 4d20: 8 + 7 + 5 + 12

Luck:

Rolling 5d20: 1 + 20 + 8 + 3 + 12

ART BY MOOGLE, CODE BY LARS

THE BLOOD ON MY TEETH BEGINS TO TASTE LIKE A POEM, LIKE RELIGION, LIKE THE WAY YOU LOOK AT ME

Is this how the sun, tastes?

Auroral, radiant.

Where every sliver of light feels more like sharp blade, than gentle caress. The world falls to fire, to sensuality; the warmth, ebbing along his flesh feels so foreign, it feels almost like a song for the way the sun sings with feral retribution against his skin. Sheets of sunlight fragments through thick, pale clouds like swords piercing celestial flesh; those streams of light, highlighting everything in a heavenly ambience - it felt too pure, too holy. Too beautiful.

Somewhere in the distance, a hawk shrieks against the silent desolation of luminous space; and rabbits run along the vermillion dunes, to hide in the shadows of their nestled burrows. The light is so bright, as it dips along the earth like flames; that the wendigo sees nothing but the bright, white fire of the sun as it is cast into his eyes like holy water, burning. He feels like a sinner, like a beast. He feels more made than born. A fallen angel standing before the bright, malevolent light of a merciless kingdom - aching for penance. Aching to fall from a heavenly pedestal, and reunite once more into the fiery illuminations of Hell;

He feels more dead than alive, for the way his lips were tinted in the blue hues of afterlife. He feels more cold to the touch, than warm, for all the way his skin radiates in its icy, frozen lament. His heart is winter, even as the sunfall pools against his form and the summer heat radiates around him with the wild essence of life. His heart is too dark, too feral, too know anything but violence and bloodshed. A demonic spirit of hunger, lust and pain.

Harou feels like a dark universe, pouring crimson starlight violently from the sockets of his soulless eyes. Every part of him feels so ruinous, so hungry, that the Devil does not know that his angelic dove is here, watching him.

He does not know that @Faolán has followed him here, tracing his steps all the way into this bloodied realm. He may not have felt her skin beneath his immediate caress, but he knew by his eyes (the moment he had first seen her), how her ivory flesh and slender curves would sing beneath him. He'd know her soul, as though he were Death and she were Life, and if destiny meant anything to them; they were destined to be more than lovers. And had he known she were here, now, he would have reached out into the darkness, searching for her. Like a wolf, with a relentless hunger, a relentless love; reaching back into the slaughterhouse to save his lamb.

--- fight starts ---

The beast's ears swings back against his dark skull, catching the soft footfalls, although barely-there. He can feel the sudden shift of wind as the summer breeze rushes to him, bringing with it the scent of another beast. So fast moves the other, that while Harou begins turning around to face them, their fangs have already etched along his lower waist/right hip. He then feels their talons brushing down his leg, almost ensnaring their nails into his thick, winter fur, as his own talons scrawl into the earth to absorb their violent shove with his four, muscular legs all evenly spread.

Blood so dark, it is nearly black, pools down his flesh from his new wounds. A guttural purr, more sadistic snarl than smile, twists his devilishly rugged countenance into something vicious. Menacing. As the other sought to grab hold, Harou would attempt to swing his hips further away from their reach; attempting to use his larger, athletic mass to curl away from them, hoping to better face the other while his upper half attempts to lunge forward and sink his fangs into any part of the lioness' face.

Harou vs. @Helah
for Dominance
1 of 3

Hits:

Rolling 6d20: 13 + 12 + 9 + 10 + 18 + 20

Dodges:

Rolling 4d20: 15 + 9 + 18 + 4

Luck:

Rolling 5d20: 10 + 11 + 18 + 6 + 2

As she moves, she notes that he's beginning to turn, and her face parts into a shit-eating sort of grin that quickly fades as her jaws part- fangs scraping, tearing, and claws bruising down his hip and leg respectively. Yet, the larger male moves with all the grace of a solider- trained in the art of war as he turns to face her, and she aims to let go- aims to release the wounds she's caused thus far. Pain sears through her, as she instinctively stumbles and spreads her remaining legs a bit to better balance herself, as his teeth dig into her face- and the older marks on her neck surely open again to bleed anew from the motions of twisting and lunging- tearing at the old scabs.

His hips moving and shifting left them nearly face on, and she saw the flash of movement as he lunged for her- his teeth sinking into the left? side of her face, and she cackles like the unhinged horror she was. Instead of trying to bite at him again, she aims to slap towards his face with her right paw- claws extended in a hope to rake those claws down his face, if she can't somehow sink them into his waiting flesh.

Helah vs @Harou
For Dominance
Round 2/3
Hits:

Rolling 6d20: 10 + 20 + 9 + 11 + 12 + 17

Dodges:

Rolling 4d20: 2 + 9 + 16 + 14

Luck:

Rolling 5d20: 4 + 11 + 9 + 10 + 12

OOC: I really hope this somehow makes sense, but I wanted to get a reply but before work tomorrow regardless! Please feel free to DM me if you need too, and I'm fine with you needing to change sides up! <3

ART BY YUMPY, CODE BY LARS

THE BLOOD ON MY TEETH BEGINS TO TASTE LIKE A POEM, LIKE RELIGION, LIKE THE WAY YOU LOOK AT ME

She flies towards him like a banshee, a harpy, her lips dripping with his blood. Harou's thirst for violence only slathers against his tongue, as he turns around and lunges after her; his fangs sinking into the flesh of her now-wounded cheek.

She tastes like ambrosia, fine wine, and his body seems to purr with the thrill of tasting the visceral nectar of her flesh. As he is now in a better position to face her head on, the woman's paw suddenly comes flying at him, striking the wendigo violently across his face.

His blood splashes to the floor, crimon dripping upon stained granite, and pain sears his flesh like fire, doubled with his other wounds.

Harou then makes the attempt to shove the rugged point of his left shoulder sharply into her center-breast; hoping to rock her, make her stumble backwards. Simultaneously, he brings his jaws forward, attempting to wrap his thick fangs around her muzzle.

Harou vs. @Helah
for Dominance
2 of 3

Hits:

Rolling 6d20: 20 + 8 + 10 + 14 + 1 + 7

Dodges:

Rolling 4d20: 3 + 9 + 10 + 15

Luck:

Rolling 5d20: 2 + 6 + 16 + 4 + 5

She tires, the ferocity in which she attacks him lessening in it's intensity, as the pain and exhaustion sets in. She is doing too much and not allowing herself to heal. Yet, she keeps going, cackling like a maniac, putting on the show of depravity, because halting or yielding is something that is not in her vocabulary.

Then he moves, his shoulder slamming into her breast and the wind is ushered from her lungs in that motion of violence and the air whooshes from her mouth in a loud, sudden, gasp. Would he mistake that for pain? Though the feeling flooded through her, as her older wound bled anew, the blood pouring from it again, making her nearly stagger into him, as the agony sang- the pain singing from where his teeth dug into her- Helah rallies.

One more move.

Another fierce slap is aimed for his face, claws extended, every ounce of strength she has aiming to be put behind it- and she hopes to bring those claws down his face if she is lucky enough to make contact, to rip and tear his flesh, to rend him apart. She knows this is almost over, and perhaps in this moment, she may have bit more than she can chew... and she's going to need to find a damned healer lest her face scar horribly, and then she'd be unattractive.

Helah vs @Harou
For Dominance
3/3
Hits:

Rolling 6d20: 7 + 3 + 15 + 20 + 18 + 19

Dodges:

Rolling 4d20: 10 + 13 + 2 + 16

Luck:

Rolling 5d20: 13 + 12 + 11 + 14 + 8

ART BY YUMPY, CODE BY LARS

Part vampire Part warrior
Carnivore and voyeur
The wendigo watches her stumble; catching his rugged shoulder-point to her softer breast. His fangs connect with her face, canines sinking into her beautiful, meaty flesh.

Still, the noises she makes sound sadistic, sharp; and a throaty purr of violent pleasure threatens to reverberate through Harou's muscular frame.

He loved the taste of her skin. The feeling of her blood dripping down his mouth and staining his ivory chest. The slenderness of her body moving with both feral beauty and power against him.

Thus, her retaliation comes swift, finding him against the face again, as more droplets of blood weeps to the floor and her talons become saturated with his liquid lifeforce.

But before she can withdraw, Harou hopes to bite into her wrist; attempting to snap his jaws around the slender bone of her outstretched paw.

Harou vs. @Helah
for Dominance
3 of 3

Hits:

Rolling 6d20: 19 + 7 + 9 + 4 + 14 + 13

Dodges:

Rolling 4d20: 16 + 14 + 8 + 18

Luck:

Rolling 5d20: 20 + 13 + 1 + 6 + 17

we all feed on tragedy,
it's like blood to a vampire

@Helah VS. @Harou FOR dominance
— RESULTS —

Helah Hits: 3+4+4+1 luck = 12
Helah Dodges: 1+2+2 = 5

Harou Hits: 4+2+3+4 luck
Harou Dodges: 2+1+3 = 6

Helah Successful Hits: 6
Harou Successful Hits: 8

Harou 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.

The concept of yielding to a power stronger than herself, is not something Helah is accustomed to. She yields only when the cravings of the body have demanded her to do so, when the need for something more pulls her from battle- but the exhaustion of previous fights wears her down, breaking her apart, tearing apart that steely resolve.

He is fresh, quick, like an ill tempered viper as his jaws turn and grasp ahold of her wrist- eliciting a gasp of surprise and a wicked grin from her. She hopes to turn her head to meet his gaze, as she speaks. "Normally I expect a male to show me a hell of a good time, after he bests me." She coos. An invitation if he wants one, but truly, she just wanted to go rest. Yet, she waits for him to release her, or take more from her- standing there awkwardly- just... waiting.

@Harou

ART BY YUMPY, CODE BY LARS