The day is proceeding pleasantly enough, the sun casting a warm glow as the tall grasses whisper around his legs with sweet familiarity. Then the voices come up. They sound distinctly wrong to his own ears... unfamiliar. He follows them to their owners, and finds that the plains, typically overlaid with postcard serenity, has alchemized into an epicenter of utter chaos. Lions without number seem to choke every inch of the place, strangers of every shape, size, and color, some of which are just kids, reaching scarcely higher than his ankle and whose voices seem to cut across all others with high-pitched distinction. Among them, he spots @Lucien first, and clumsily tries to shoulder his way toward him. Still taking in the myriad faces, he finally draws up to his side.

Some kind of party no one told me about? He starts to say, bewildered. His eye catches on @Aeistrios then, and a coldness seeps into his every bone. Facing him is his father, and suddenly he realizes: this is no party. The stranger has come bearing intentions as dark as his pelt. He seeks to take their home. His home. His ears fall flat against his head, panic written into his raspberry eyes. Somewhere, from what seems to be very far off, comes @Aideen's inquiry. Who's gonna fight? Senselessly, he mutters: Dad... and knows he is helpless to do anything but watch as the male rushes forward, deftly keeping his distance as he seeks to administer his claws to his father's face. Part of him bristles at that, tensing as he takes a subconscious step forward to help.

+5 Observe a fight 1/2
+5 Learn information about a potential threat 1/2
+5 Learn a new fighting move 1/2

_{BG — ART — CODE}

It does not entirely occur to Violarum that this could well be his families final few moments in their long-term home, their palace of rule-less delight. He knows full well that this massive, fit male had every chance of defeating him - as Violarum had been defeated by the likes before - and yet his mind too busy in the present to give any more thought to the consequences.

At least he stood surrounded by family and friends, with all the support he could ask for.

As the man yap yapped, Vio became quickly aware his pouty attempt at 'You can't do this' was falling short of it's goal. Sure enough, as the clay males defenses fell into place, the dark lion lunged. He wasted no time and no particular effort, keeping things simple - just as the Lorien King liked it. In an effort to avoid the assault, Vio braced, tucking in his chin to his breast - but the males foreclaws snared the bridge of his snout, peeling immediately into the skin to reveal torrents of blood.

Instinctively, Violarum attempted to catch the forepaw in his jaws before his opponent could retreat; trying to crush, hold and limit movement.

Violarum vs @Aeistrios for Lorien Plains
Round 1 of 5
Hits:

Rolling 9d20: 20 + 17 + 6 + 16 + 4 + 19 + 18 + 9 + 8

Dodges:

Rolling 4d20: 17 + 1 + 6 + 5

Luck:

Rolling 6d20: 15 + 20 + 10 + 5 + 12 + 17

* +1 Luck from Lead Scout (Aurochs) present

_{art by kairi —}

Aeistrios felt his claws tear through skin, slicing tender protection to reveal the crimson underneath. It is the first blow of the fight, the first success, and Aeistrios is hopeful to come out on top. His paw is descending by the time his opponent's jaws swoop at his limb- fangs snagging and tearing his skin as pain and blood ooze from the torn areas, lacerations deep, but no grip is obtained.

Narrowed eyes target him, and Aeistrios attempts to shove himself closer, jaws splaying in an attempt to dive and bite at the shoulder of the other male, ears folded back into his mane. Tail lashes behind him eagerly, helping his balance as excitement of the battle hums through his veins. He can't help but to imagine it, the success of today - and even if he loses he knows he will move onto another land and try again. There was never any true defeat to a Saxe.

Aeistrios vs @Violarum for Lorien Plains
2/5

Hits:

Rolling 9d20: 3 + 13 + 12 + 20 + 7 + 17 + 15 + 11 + 16

Dodges:

Rolling 4d20: 12 + 14 + 4 + 19

Luck:

Rolling 5d20: 19 + 10 + 5 + 4 + 15

art by riot/coding by riot

Laerra follows behind lackadaisically even though she was keen to be at her twin's side. @Louve ♔ was following suit but she was slow, too, but not for the same reason. Something had changed in the woman and needless to say, Laerra thought that Louve was taking a little too much from the cookie jar lately. Not that she had solid proof of it but her stomach should've been enough to warrant such an accusation. She knew better than to publicly announce her size, however, and kept shut as she meandered closer.

As she did so she caught the torn-earned womans words to Aideen as she sidled up as close as she could get. Protecting them as she assumed they would do the same for her. Does Wolfbron Bluffs have a preference as to the victor? she asked, wishing to know what side she was meant to be rooting for. Given the fact that Louve knew the Plains' kings name she thought to make an assumption but things could so easily be swayed. Keenly watching the fight while keeping her vision set on those around her; eagerly anticipating each swipe of their paws and roar that was let loose. Pride challenges seemed to be common around here but they always seemed the most brutal. Just in the way the two fought, she could tell it was important.

That much was obvious when a boy, somewhat older than herself, approached the Miroslav pair and addressed to @Aideen that that man -- that Violarum -- was his father. And who are you? she asks, watching him curiously as he steps forward almost instinctively. Whoa, hey! she says, butt picking up off the ground slightly as though prepared to stop @Kian from going forward. I wouldn't do that if I was you. Your dad needs focus, not distraction in worry for your safety, too. Not that she owed the nice boy any comfort but it felt like the right thing to do.

+5 - Observe a fight (Aeistrios vs. Violarum for LP) (1/2)
+10 - Learn something about pride/group/family relations (Kian is Violarum's dad) (1/2)

^{ART BY CUSH, CODE BY CALA}

+10 Witness an event worthy of making history

The voice of a challenge had reached Luther when he'd been on the farthest side of the Mire. If one took account of his slow, languid pace, they would know the reason behind his slightly slower arrival. Still, Luther was not late, for when his alabaster shape emerged from the golden stalks of grass like a haunting ghost the two fighters - Violarum & a dark stranger - were just now beginning.

There weren't many gathered, either, which made picking @Bruno & @Alaric's shapes out of the crowd easier for the Mire Heir. As per usual, he strode over to them with an arrogant step, but there was wariness in the back of his mind. Even if Lorien was an ally, he knew how challenges attracted big crowds. And big crowds meant more chance of enemies crawling in between them.

He approaches the duo only to notice a small adolescent in their midst. @Freckle stood by Bruno, while Bruno introduced him to Alaric. "I take care of him." Luther's brow cocked in half-amusement, half-surprise at the strangeness of his brother taking care of a whelp. "Would you look at that," he mused aloud while settling on Freckle's open side. "If I didn't know I'd mistake him for your firstborn, lieber Bruder." He flashed Freckle a grin, then gazed up at Bruno. The kid was far from scrawny, but he was a tiny thing. What exactly did Bruno even think when he took the cub under his wing was beyond Luther's imagination. Was he going to use the boy as a punching bag? Why else?

+5 Observe a fight (Aeistrios vs. Violarum for Lorien)

The call echoed through Amaryllis for a change in leadership. A demand to have a crown taken from one head and put onto another. She awoke from her idle slumber and with a stretch, made her way across the neutral land that lay between the Cay and the Plains. She had never been to this pride before, but it was too… pleasant for her liking. Too flat. Slipping into the territory and making her way into its belly, Cirilla lowered herself to her haunches and looked around.

Eyes fell initially on the fight that had begun for the throne, but she was soon distracted by the flash of white from @Luther. How could she forget such a face? An attractive one, but still… a face she knew well nonetheless. Shuffling her haunches to settle quietly in the shadows, she settled to watch the fight in the hope she remains in the shadows.

Assassin level 3 perk to remain hidden
1 is failure, 2 is success

Rolling 1d2: 2

Thane wakes from his nap with a big, wide yawn. His lips pull back over his teeth, and as sleep slowly leaves his mind, he frowns. Something is wrong. There’s commotion not so far away, and as the Plains self-appointed protector, it’s his duty to go find out what’s going on. Blurry, unwelcome memories of his baby-hood stir in the back of his mind. With a terrible feeling of dread, he recognises the events even if the figures are different; a king, battling a stranger, and the way they fight is vicious and deadly. Something heavy drops in Thane’s belly as he creeps through the grass, no longer small enough to hide in it.

In the crowd, he spies familiar faces, and beelines to them. @Orson stands over @Anniston, and another lioness, so the boy stumbles his way toward them, mismatched eyes locked on the fight as he stands at Orson’s heel. His ears fold into the chunks of red-orange mane growing around them. "Is he gon win?" He asks softly, worriedly, brows furrowing as he looks from the fight to scan the crowd -

And sees a patch of sunlight amongst the bigger, bulky adults.

"Frek -" Thane whispers, vocal cords barely moving even as his lips twist around his teeth. He can’t believe what he sees, not after so long, but that is definitely @Freckle, just more grown up. "FREK!" Thane finds his voice as he shoves away from the group he’d joined, crossing the boundary of spectators within the Plains and those visiting to lurch directly at the small spotted boy.

art © northernred | code © hinter

Eskel is attempting to remain hidden.

Making his way towards the battle cry, he moved as quietly as he could towards it- in the tall grasses- hoping the shadows and flickers of brown and green grasses would do some sort of sort of camouflage to hide his massive frame as he moved quietly towards the ensuing battle. Eskel had decided it was time to get back to work, and by doing so- he needed to make it to important events such as pride challenges. The scent here, was strong, fresh. So it would be a challenge for a standing pride?

He halted near the fiasco, his eyes peering through the grasses to study the two males going against each other- their bodies clashing. One large clay male, and one larger plum hued male. Eskel would crouch down, his muscles tense as he studied the fight- eager to see who would come out on top.

ART COPYRIGHT IRISH

i've got to make this life make sense

Ansella wasn't extremely keen on battles, though she had to admit that there were injuries to observe wherever lions fought- and studying the mechanism of how they were dealt and attained would be interesting for any healer to understand. She had spent time within the fields and gardens that morning, collecting some herbs- basil. She had picked the herb carefully- choosing it for it's sedative properties. She remembered her father giving to sick lions with coughs as well, and discussing it's various other properties.

Once she had gathered a large enough pile, she worked on shoving the plants into her satchel. She'd grown quite fond of the satchel- and the work she'd put into it, to create the rough pouch. It was while she was doing this that she heard the summons for battle.

She almost didn't go near it, but curiosity and the desire to see what she could observe and learn from the battle... well, that led her towards the sound. Ansella meandered along the strong scented border, studying it- and the plains within the lands. She followed the border all the way towards the sound of chaos. She walked quietly, approaching the borders of the pride- and the crowd that was gathering. Crossing over it, she would move to join those who were sitting and standing there- hoping the floral scent of herbs may shield her from anyone who could be angry about her presence- that they'd perhaps realize she was here to observe and potentially help- nothing more.

potential xp: +5 collect herbs, +5 observe a fight and assess the wounds, +5 explore the borders of a pride or group (pathfinder)

ansella belmont

code by corvus

+10 - remain undetected in a large thread (2/2)
+10 - learn something about pride/group/family relations (1/2)

They watch with quiet discernment, their dirt-streaked body as close to the ground as they can manage. Only their head is lifted enough to see through the tall grasses, ears flat.

They observe as many lions gather to witness the violence. They can sense from the many different group scents that this is an important battle. It isn't just a simple territorial dispute. A large, pale lion with a dark mane (@Alaric) seats himself next to a dark, lean lion (@Bruno) that looks rather unkempt to Brume's eyes (she isn't accustomed to seeing such a wavy mane), at least from the side-profile she has of the two. There are flashes of a smaller form that moves energetically, the young voice carrying excitedly through the crowd. They can see from the way the adult pair sit together that they are familiar with one another. Family, or part of the same group at the very least. That kind of ease in such close proximity with another lion isn't something shared among mere acquaintances, they think.

The next lion to capture the druid's attention is a scarred lioness (@Louve ♔) whose coloring reminds them of swamp waters in the fading light of dusk; even her undersides are darker, as if soaked with the green-tinged mud of the marsh. What captures Brume's attention isn't the tattered remains of the stranger's ear, nor the ragged scars down the side of her face. It's her bearing, and the sharp gleam in her eye. In some ways they are reminded of their late matriarch, Ninethorns, though absent of her warmth. From their place of quiet observation, the yearling druid notes the slight swell to the lioness' side. It's only barely noticeable, and might have been looked over had they not been taking care to capture every detail they could. Brume takes particular care to remember this creature's face. Their nose quivers, attempting to discern the war-torn lioness' scent among the others. It proves near impossible, but perhaps a shift in the wind will bring some luck.

The scarred lioness positions herself at proximity to another; a lion (@Vermier) even more scarred than the swamp-queen (as Brume will come to think of the lioness). He appears to be gnawing on a large item - a bone or antler, perhaps.

Brume's nose twitches as they continue to observe. They have identified at least two separate groups among the crowd. Their eyes briefly flick back to Swiftwillow to check on their matriarch. They feel the smallest tingling of apprehension with their family approaching such a large gathering of strange lions, and so openly.

-----

OOC NOTE: Descriptions of characters and their demeanors are based on both what's written in the thread, and what's written on character profiles regarding their physical appearance and how they hold themselves / speak etc. If there are any issues with how I've described things here, please let me know and I will be happy to edit.

I've tagged the characters that Brume specifically took note of in case I need to make edits. <3

coded by flea