fernweh had come late, only because she needed to know her family was safe. but when the dark body of her only son was missing, she knew something was amiss. and it turned out andras figured it out sooner than she, for she saw his body lingering behind, hoping to hide away. but there were too many lions here, rike lions, who could easily see both andras and @Mithril. fernweh couldn't find it in herself to stand here and not do something. but she couldn't give up andras's position either.

mithril she said, before sending a glance to @András. come, you need to go before they see you..this is not a place for cubs to be in. fernweh could only guide their son with gentle paws and a steady voice until she couldn't. but, despite the heavy beat of her heart, she must trust in herself and her family to pull through. take him back; i'll cover for you both fernweh said to andras and andras only.

ART COPYRIGHT RABS / CODE COPYRIGHT ANALESE

The chaos erupting all around them seems to fall away as the bronze brute turns to face her. In the midst of a storm, one has to find their own center, and Myra has certainly found it here, reptilian eyes boring into Aquila's silver irises. He nods, and her lips pull back fully into a joyless, snarling grin, ivory fangs gleaming on display when she stills her motions, abruptly turning to face him head-on in kind.

This time, the huntress shall leave him broken in the snow just as he had left her in the mud and dirt. She will not stop until he's paid for the humiliation she'd received in full.

She never stops, just as she never forgets.

The larger male lumbers towards her, and she awaits him, lean muscles quivering beneath golden skin as tension coils within them, her lengthy tail lashing once before flinging out behind her while she widened her stance. Yes. Let him come to her this time.

When Aquila strikes is when Myra lunges forward, springing off her powerful hindlegs with her right forepaw outstretched in an attempt to slash her claws down the flat of his left shoulder. She feels his own large paw scrape along the left side of her ribcage with the movement, before snagging in that space behind her elbow. A deep growl rumbles through her chest, the painful memory of her bones being wrenched from the socket sparking her fury anew. She lets the reminder fuel her next move, flinging her skull upwards with gaping jaws in an attempt to snap viciously at Aquila's face.

Maybe an eye would make for a fine souvenir?

Myra vs. @Aquila
Major Maim
Round 1 / 4
Hits:

Rolling 8d20: 17 + 20 + 15 + 9 + 8 + 12 + 19 + 14

Dodges:

Rolling 5d20: 6 + 12 + 19 + 3 + 20

Luck:

Rolling 5d20: 20 + 19 + 3 + 12 + 17

ART COPYRIGHT IRISH

Morrigan feels bruised muscles further strained as her opponent pushes back again, but this time, as she also feels her crown meet its mark, she allows it, using the provided shove to stumble back as she took the time for the burst of black dots to clear from her vision. Not that she needed to see. Violence was instinct to creatures like her. Saga showed her that. She would certainly have a headache later, but the way his jaws snapped together hopefully didn't feel very good either.

His right claws had changed their mark, and she felt her movement stopped by the grip of talons in the left side of her neck. When she felt his momentum shift upwards, she could have grinned. Foolish boy. To her, he had just given away his power, deep punctures in the thick muscle of her bleeding already and ignored.

As his jaws sank deep into the scarred flesh of her nape, she would begin to mirror his movements, attempting to ensure his grip was nice and tight as she shifted her own weight to her hind limbs, her head attempting to snake around the other side of his neck and lean against him, in something that could have almost been a loving embrace if not for the sudden violent attempt to throw her weight suddenly to her own left, his right, attempting to slam the both of them down to the harsh, ice-packed earth, hoping to make him choke beneath her weight this time.

@Morrigan vs. @Rainer
For Illyria Summit
Round III / V
Hits:

Rolling 9d20: 14 + 9 + 8 + 19 + 16 + 10 + 11 + 1 + 3

Dodges:

Rolling 4d20: 1 + 20 + 11 + 7

Luck:

Rolling 6d20: 12 + 16 + 5 + 3 + 18 + 17

+1 hit dice Tier 4: Bonus to members participating in fights in their pridelands (doubles the level 1 bonus of their master trade).

coding & image by flea

THIS THREAD HAS REACHED
WAR STATUS!

— A war is underway between the factions of
THE RIKE FAMILY and ILLYRIA SUMMIT/VERMEDA BROOK —

If happening on a pride territory, this is a reminder that trespassing increases your character’s PVP by one level.

Please remember to read the fight rules on wars, raids, and the fatigue system here, and to post all fights in Fight Updates so that they can be properly logged.

If your character is in a fight or other situations that could impact them post-thread, please be mindful when doing posts that are set after this in their timeline.

Nephthys feels like crumpling into a heap as she studies the girl, wishing she had some sort of medical training to be useful. But that was just it, wasn't it? She didn't have any medical training, so Ronin had his injuries healed elsewhere. By other women. The lioness glanced sidelong at her husband, feeling the burden she had become to him and nothing with anger that @Sláine had come to stand by his side. @Alaric arrived shortly after and the maroon lioness looked at her friend, the child briefly forgotten, as she frowned and tried to signal with her eyes towards their respective mates. There was an unspoken sadness there she was sure he would see, but it hardly seemed the time to discuss it when the girl required medical assistance. A voice, familiar and yet not, called out to her and she found her aunt @Arachnae easily enough. Surprised to see her and yet too hormonally miserable to act overjoyed, Nephthys simply leaned to grasp the child by the scruff. "That's my aunt. She'll help her." And began to drag the poor thing to her aunt in the shade.

code by shelby | art by irish

Arkyn had been travelling through Celosia when he heard the distinct call for a challenge in the air. He would come to a halt, staring in the direction the echoing roar had come from. Brows would furrow as he realized that this challenge for a pride wasn't just for any pride in Amaryllis, but his tante's specifically, and that was enough for the Viking to set off toward the Summit. Although they had quite the estranged relationship, Arkyn would had to of been either severely incapacitated or worse in order for him to not be present at such a battle.

Massive paws carried him through changes of terrain and climate, steadily making his way up the mountain on a now well worn path. Scents of many hit him in the chilly, thin air and it was enough to cause his lips to peel back in a silent snarl. Yellow eyes would narrow as they soon landed upon the many figures already present, seeing both Morrigan and his cousin engaged in their own fights. A couple others were well underway it seemed, too, but what really caught his attention was a familiar figure of a small healer.

@Csitri.

The beast began to make his way over toward her, shoulders rolling forward in a more protective and defensive stance as he neared. But what would happen next before he was able to reach her would cause for the man to go feral. The herbs fluttering out from the satchel the healer wore, to her running into another woman, and that woman deciding that Csitri was the best target for her. A rather feral snarl would erupt from the depths of his chest as he charged toward the Caladan woman. He had an extraordinarily size and weight advantage, and it was something that he was going to use to its fullest.

Arkyn barreled toward the the grey woman's left side, skull lowering so that it were now aligned with his spine. With only a couple of feet in between them he would push off of all fours, attempting to ram his skull right into the lioness's midsection in an attempt to throw her off. As Arkyn did this, his right forepaw would snake forward toward his now opponent, attempting to wrap it behind the woman's left hind leg. He was attempting to hook his claws into the meaty flesh of the inner thigh and pull toward him in more of an attempt to make the woman fall.


Arkyn vs @Valaine
for
minor maim - facial scarring?
round i/iv
hits:

Rolling 8d20: 3 + 11 + 2 + 6 + 9 + 19 + 20 + 13

dodge:

Rolling 2d20: 8 + 4

luck:

Rolling 5d20: 15 + 9 + 7 + 10 + 12

 get on your knees and
bow down

_{ART & CODE}

She does not sit alone for long, before a familiar figure arrives. @Tiamat speaks, as she sits beside her, and Ghyslaine chuckles. "I was trying to be like you. Bad at making friends." She said wryly. "Without the knocking out." A small smile, and then a glance to the other female. "You know coming to a war, while pregnant isn't probably the best idea." She said, and she looked to @Nero as he joined her offering him a small smile and nod, and though he was close-- the distance between them gaped like a canyon. He spoke, greeting the Queen, and she wondered what he would think of their odd friendship- what he would think of her time spent in the Lagoon, if he knew the details of it.

Her gaze is snagged as she notes @Talisa arriving, and notes the roundness of the female's stomach, and she only smiles. Apparently, everyone attended wars while pregnant.

Her attention is caught by Myra and Aquila heading into a fight, and she notes that Alaric has arrived, yet for the moment- he doesn't seem tied into battle. There is Ronin, and Morrigan of course in her own battle. Ghyslaine tore her gaze back to the main fight, though she would occasionally scan the area around them- wary of any attack- determined to defend any of her friends, from any would be attackers, as best as she could.

ART BY NAME KIM, CODE BY LARS

The corners of Tiamat's eyes crinkle with a smile at their shared little joke. She lifted her right paw to her chest and bowed her head, pretending to be in pain. "You wound me," she said, rather dramatically, before placing the paw back upon the ground and giving @Ghyslaine and honest smile. "I think my method worked rather well, though, no?" she said with a raised brow. Perhaps they were not exactly friends just yet, but they certain weren't enemies and that was saying something.

@Nero joined them, offering the queen a greeting, and she dipped her head to him. If he was polite then she had no reason to hate him. Truthfully, she was ready to leave the problems of her early days in Amaryllis behind her. That included her issues with his mother, but she wasn't certain Alizabeth would let things go so easily now, even if Tiamat was satisfied.

The man sat beside his wife, but Tiamat could feel the tension in the air. Perhaps everything was not going so well in paradise, but that was not something she was willing to pry into with both of them sitting beside her. Instead, she glanced down at her stomach, eyes wide, feigning surprise at her condition. "Is that what I am?" she said, still pretending. "And here I thought I was just getting fat." Then she chuckled, following Ghyslaine's gaze and seeing another pregnant woman, this one with guards. Well, she must be important. Or, well, not a warrior queen. One or the other, she supposed. "Women of my Clan fight until they give birth. I will be fine," she assured her companion.

Rather than dwelling on her condition, Tiamat decided to comment on the issue at hand. "Alaric tells me that the Sigrun do drown their children," she said, nodding to the beast (Adalwolf) who had declared it so much before getting attacked by another. "I can't say its anything worse than traditions my Clan has. My problem was with one of them declaring her children to be demigods. That is blasphemy where I come from."

And really, who is she to judge when she is surely going to follow in those very traditions?

image by rabbit, code by anyu

This woman is rather hard-headed, it seems. Literally. The bruising pain in his jaw spreads hotly through bone and tooth alike as it slowly disperses, but what Rike is a stranger to pain? It fuels his need for destruction, his desire to see her brought to her knees before him.

It feels instinctual too to go for Morrigan's neck, to sink his claws deep into tender flesh and clamp his jaws around that vulnerable nape to force the 'Queen' into submission. Something inside the Rike alights with vicious satisfaction to taste iron upon his tongue, and he can't help but think of how much lovelier that striped neck of hers would look if he were to drag his claws just right...if her throat was marred by a gash of red.

Alas, none of those fantasies shall become a reality. Not just yet.

She winds her neck around his own like an affectionate snake, and a harsh grunt sputters through his clamped jaws when she suddenly shoves against him, hard. Hard enough to twist him off his feet, and while his clawed grip instinctively tightens on her, his jaws loosen when his skull cracks against the cold, hard ground, darkness dancing behind his eyes. She's distressingly heavy when her weight presses atop him.

He blindly attempts to kick his hindlegs outwards, attempting to catch her stomach hard enough to unbalance her, hopefully sending them both rolling so that he might be able to come out on top. His left forepaw would fling up in an attempt to grip at the right side of Morrigan's neck as well, trying to pull her head ever closer. In his disorientation, it seems better to smother her in his mane than to allow her the chance to snap at his face.

@Rainer vs. @Morrigan
For Illyria Summit
Round 3 / 5
Hits:

Rolling 6d20: 14 + 15 + 7 + 11 + 10 + 16

Dodges:

Rolling 6d20: 6 + 18 + 11 + 12 + 15 + 1

Luck:

Rolling 6d20: 11 + 8 + 14 + 16 + 5 + 20

Art + Code by Dee

( Oof, so sorry for the wibbly-wobbly time in my post; the site didn't notify me that I had been tagged in Ronin's post. )

The tension and the action were building, the steady crescendo of a drum beat in the Savante son's ears. It was a familiar rhythm. He thought of home, longed for home. He felt the pull back, found the edges of his awareness begin to soften as his thoughts began to sink beneath the surface—'Will it always be like this?' Her voice reached beneath the waves, a gentle hand pulling him quickly back into the present. A sharp sniff, a quick blink, and he Lucanus snapped back into focus. Her. How long had she been there? Suddenly acutely aware of the pounding of his heart, the dark-light man slid his gaze over to @Caltáriel, peering at her from the corners of his eyes. He longed to behold the sight of her, full face—her artful beautiful deserved no less than one's full attention—but the boy who had cut his teeth on war was all too aware of the encroaching danger. He felt it keener now than he had moments before, with something (someone) precious, soft and exposed at his side.

His mouth opened to reply to her—to try and offer words of hope he thought fitting for a woman, perhaps, or (more urgently) to tell her to get somewhere safe—but his voice was cut off by the sound of a sharp crack and a heavy thud. His attention was propelled in the direction of the sound by the order of his king and, obediently, Lucanus was on his paws before @Ronin could place the period on his command. And yet he hesitated at his first step toward the fallen girl, feeling a strange weight drawing him back toward his spot, not fully loosing him to attend to the matters he ought to. He turned to look @Caltáriel full in the face then, a flash of anxiety darkening his firelight eyes. Stay here, he urged, tearing his gaze away from her briefly to scan the Andal and Savante lions in their group, wondering to himself if any would come to her aid if things went sideways while he retrieved the fallen girl. With one last heavy glimpse of her face, he then pushed off toward the child.

@Nephthys was there (and silently Lucanus cursed himself that such a heavily pregnant woman had gotten there quicker), gathering the limp girl by her scruff and beginning to draw her in an entirely different direction than the one that @Ronin had ordered the girl be drawn. He'd heard @Arachnae's orders—a competing set of orders—and with a slightly narrowed gaze, Lucanus noted which of the two commands this pregnant lioness was following. Cutting in front of @Nephthys, he put his body between her and the brush she was drawing @Rusalka toward. In truth, the child shouldn't be moved at all after such a fall, but with fights breaking out all around them, Lucanus could only assume that @Ronin was wanting to see to the girl's safety while she was attended to by the medic. I've got her, he reassured in a voice that was too hard to be truly reassuring, his flame-touched eyes openly studying her beneath a furrowed brow. You go ahead back to Ronin.

Peripherally aware of @Alaric and @Solanum's presences there as well, he turned toward the latter, the yearling that had offered to help. Go gather a small bed of snow over there, he instructed, nodding in the direction that he had just come from, where Ronin and the other Andal lions were gathered. They needed to get the unconscious girl's head and shoulders elevated, and hopefully the cold would help with any inflammation—if not bring her back into consciousness, with any luck. He needed to assess her for any bleeding or any other immediate needs... but first, to secure the scene, and for that he waited until @Nephythys loosed the girl's scruff; he'd not have them fight over the limp child like a pair of hyena, but his body was tensed in preparation should the pregnant lioness not be willing to hand her over.