there's a beautiful storm in your eyes

the slight hiss of pain that he’d hear his opponent let out his mouth filled lützel with some sort of minor satisfaction. he had not managed to make the ecrosia lion hurt on his first attempt at doing so but this recent one proved more successful, the tang of blood that now touched his taste buds serving to further invigorate him in his mission to make the enemy pay for their transgressions. ever the overachiever, the minor amount of pain he just dealt this lion wasn’t nearly enough; unlike alaric, lützel wished to make his opponent truly hurt. filled with zeal, the sharp pang of alaric’s claws now unsheathing and hooking into his bound shoulder would not serve to dissuade him as his opponent had hoped. not even willing to give him the satisfaction of hearing him in pain, lützel grit his teeth and toughed it out.

despite the hulking paw still slung over his shoulder, he’d at the least managed to rise from the crouched position his opponent had initially pinned him in. although, with his opponent’s claws now hooked into his shoulder, his movement forwards now ceased in an effort to salvage the shoulder from further damage through tear. taking note of the towering figure before him now diving down to meet him at his level with his wide maw agape, lützel hastily opened his own to let go of his opponent’s wrist. briefly swinging his head back in order to escape the huge jaws of the colossal lion, lützel quickly counterattacked, swinging his head back forwards in an attempt to sink his teeth into the same cheek he’d previously managed to strike. with his opponent’s continued grip over him, lützel aimed to maintain a grip of his own in an effort to prevent further manhandling from the older and much larger lion.



@Lützel vs @Alaric
for gtfo!/dominance
round iii / iii
hits:

Rolling 2d20: 12 + 2

dodges:

Rolling 4d20: 12 + 3 + 20 + 19

luck:

Rolling 5d20: 4 + 6 + 8 + 16 + 15

The battle for the Summit ends swiftly, and although many fights seemed have erupted between Vermedans and strangers, Wolfgang realised soon that the conflict was petering out. The roar of a Illyrian has him turning to move back toward the mountain trails. They needed no more assistance, and Wolfgang was not keen to overstay his welcome. There had after all, been many already tossed over the cliff edges and the scent of blood was thick in the air. A low sigh gusts from his jaws as the Bezra man turns to make himself scarce once more. Illyria would stand, and he had supported his pride in their alliance.

— exit Wolfgang

Zoltan emerges close as Valerian settles defensively to observe and prepare for battle. Riordan is with him, and Valerian misses the words they exchange as he finds Lucanus at his side. He glances to his brother as the similarly piebald man seats himself beside Valerian.

There is bad blood here, he gathers from Ronin’s angered words. Is this truly a war between prides, or some sort old family feud brought forth? Valerian twitches his tail with interest, keen to know more. For now, he watches the Summit sovereign defend the mountain from the white-splashed challenger.

Further battles do break out, but Valerian is fortunately spared.

Eventually the dark defender comes out victorious and calls ring out for observers to leave. Although he’d rather stay and watch, Valerian eventually obeys, rising to his paws and heading back to the warmer regions of the island

— exit Valerian

art © drifty

i'm ready for the fight, and fate

His frustration mounts if only because it is a pointless fight. Somehow his teeth miss the boys nose, the yearling moving far faster than Alaric would have thought possible. He jerks his face back and away from Alaric's attacking canines and shifts back forward in a shockingly fluid move -- and now the beast does not want to play nicely.

He flexes those claws that anchor in the boys shoulder and jerks his paw down towards the ground, attempting to lay deep gouges in to the boys arm and thus deter him from continuing this ridiculous endeavor. While he has litte desire to mangle a yearling he's only has so much patience...

As the boys teeth attempt to find purchase on Alaric's cheek they will, instead, barely scrape across his lips as he pulls his head back once more, a close shave more than anything else. The Mire King grows tired of this game and seeks to put an end to it, shoving his weight forward (and thus hoping to increase the pressure behind his dragging claws) and attempting to knock the boy down to the ground where he belonged.



alaric vs. @Lützel
for pesky little bug (dominance)
round iii / iii
hits:

Rolling 9d20: 13 + 11 + 15 + 20 + 3 + 5 + 8 + 4 + 19

dodges:

Rolling 4d20: 11 + 15 + 5 + 18

luck:

Rolling 5d20: 8 + 13 + 6 + 12 + 2

image by cloudy, code by corvus

@Lützel VS. @Alaric FOR Dominance
— RESULTS —

Lützel Hits: 2 + 2 + 1 + 7 luck = 12
Lützel Dodges: 2 + 3 + 3 = 8

Alaric Hits: 5 + 5 + 5 + 2 luck = 17
Alaric Dodges: 4 + 3 + 3 = 10

Lützel Successful Hits: 2
Alaric Successful Hits: 9

Alaric HAS WON THE CHALLENGE FOR Dominance!

In official wars and raids, fight result timers and posting restrictions are negated. Posting may continue, but the results of this fight cannot be acknowledged ICly until either both challengers have responded, or if 3 days have gone by. Whichever comes first!

Things passed by in a blue. First, some random Savante came over to contest her decision to move the ragdoll girl out of harm's way and then quickly stepped aside. Really, what business was it of Andal to offer a healer? It wasn't like Ecrosia was lacking in them (as far as she knew) and the Tollaire found herself further irritated by the squabbles that began to sprout up around her. The woman had no loyalty to the unconscious girl and was more than happy to hand her off to her aunt before turning and slipping away from the scene of the crime. Anyone else could stay and watch lions being tossed from the mountain like confetti, but Neph was too pregnant to deal with that nonsense. Hmph.

exit

table by sentinel / lion + mountains

any excitement he might have felt at seeing his littermate again (appearing so quickly, so sudddenly -- when had @Lützel come back?! ) flickers into sheer annoyance. isntead of helping, he attacks someone who is helping. sure, alaric might be a mire lion (he was like *THE* mire lion, but virgil was dumb and didn't know that ) but he was also actively trying to help. which was more than could be said for lutzel.

he listens intently as @Arachnae instructs him, telliing him how to hoist @Rusalka up and how to carry her. his eyes linger on her crushed side, the very same that arachnae tells him not to touch, and he gives a weary little nod. shaky with nerves, with fear filtering in like sunshine. okay, he says to her; okay, i can do this, he says to himself. with great care ( greater care than he's ever used in his whole life ), he helps to pick rus up, and carry her where she needs to be. he knows arachnae will take care of her, and once she can walk, they'll leave.

exit w/ rus and arachnae & exiting IS

BG & CODE

And it'sx my whole heart, xxweighed and m e a s u r e d xxxxxxxxxxx i n s i d e And it's an old scar, trying to bleach it out

Everything was breaking up around them, and to no surprise to the witch the mire king easily fended the smaller shite wolf child off, without doing too much damage in the process. She loved young ones, but at this point she wanted to smack the little guy herself- as his attempted assault was of no help.

Instead, she would turn to the pair that most mattered, watching as @Virgil hoisted the yearling carefully onto himself, a smile of encouragement on her maw. @Livyatan would catch her attention, the Ecrosian male offering to shield them as they made their way further from the chaos. Her gaze would linger on his form a moment, something about him and the unique markings on his shoulder drawing her attention - but the injured girl mattered more than vague similarities in this moment. Thank you, once we make it to the camp you will have to make haste across the borders- lest my queen demand your pelt for trespassing so close even with a noble. She would warn gently. The witch appreciated his help, but didn't want him skinned for it.

She turned back to the colossal prince, making way after him, slinking as much into the shadows as she could manage without getting too close to more battles. She could already tell she was going to have a nasty sunburn on her nose.

//Exit

who's a heretic now?

code by loki - art by Aurora

Everything happened so fast and it wasn’t like she hadn’t seen confirmation before it was just this wasn’t just a fight. This was a bloody war. Fighting all over, snarling, growling, fangs and claws. It was a lot to take in. There had been children hurt and then they started throwing lions off the cliff. Horror crossed her face, fear flashed in her eyes and she felt faint. She should’ve helped, she probably could have helped in some form but she just froze up. She might have even peed a little. Finally collecting her wits about her she realized Arachnae was now gone and she was alone. Therefore she did the only logical thing she could think of and hightailed it out of there.

-exit-

image by moogle/code by saph

Her muscles ache terribly with fatigue and exertion, forelimbs quivering with increasing intensity as used all she had to push the clay brute off of her. Claws scrabble and tear at whatever she can reach and for a split second, she thinks she's succeeded in heaving the once-King off of her when the pressure against her neck and shoulders lightens. But the tables shift once more in the time it takes for her to draw in a breath, in that moment of time she couldn't yet move her skull to her own advantage.

Dots of hot pain flare across Myra's right ear when @Aquila's fang pierce through the thin skin, but that cannot compare to the fire that scorches her when he rips away the pointed end, tearing away from her in a ragged trail of blood and skin. A pained squall rips from her throat, a rare sound that mixes with a snarl when the outrage kicks in to replace the pain, if only for a moment.

A paw lashes out to try to catch his muzzle when she stumbles back, leaving a piece of herself behind even as she frees herself from the brute's weight and grip once again. Such a grievous price to pay - and yet another humiliation she's suffered at the paws of this man. Three strikes, but so long as Myra continues to breathe, she will never be 'out.' "Take it." She spits out between panting breaths, blood dripping down her face in such copious amounts that it's almost dizzying. "Everything you steal from me, I'll reclaim from you twofold. Think of that as a promise." But not today. Her blood is boiling hot enough that she barely feels the chilly mountain air, but her muscles are spent.


She cannot even think to look again for Alaric amongst the crowd. No, her focus is better put towards guiding herself safely back down the damned mountain before she's forced to rest. She won't allow Aquila the satisfaction of seeing her fall.

/exit Myra

ART COPYRIGHT IRISH