The fight bore on, and Swiftwillow kept a careful eye on it between polite and conversational glances to the Merle lioness she spoke with. She had mentioned members of the afterlife retaking forms of flesh and the Alacine woman now settled her full attention to @Vizzi. “I know of powerful spirits, ancestors of those who live now, walk this world beyond death.” she mused. Aspen had never met one herself, but her grandmother had spoke at great length of them.

“Maua is more powerful than any ,” she delivers calmly, her voice reverent, “She has the power to make and unmake all.” It feels odd to be reciting what her elders had so many times to her to a stranger, but equally she sees no harm in it.

Is it always like this?  A sigh did heave her shoulders at that. “Yes. I wish it was not.” she confirmed with a furrow to her brow. “I do not think violence should be the be-all end-all answer.” It proved nothing, in her mind. A good warrior they may be, but how were they at politics? At kindness? Could they feel mercy? It saddened her.

art © rabbit

The battle continues, and although Wolfgang keeps an eye on the primary fight and the ones breaking out around it, it is @Ania that draws his main focus. He settles with her by his forelegs, lowering his chin to brush his head affectionately against the top of his wife’s head. Even though she smelt of the mire, she was still herself.

“Sometimes, a fight is simpler than talking.” he points out, preferring the simplicity. He did so hate the long, drawn out sort of conversations with people he disliked. He was a man of few words, and would much rather save them for those who deserved them. Like Ania, and Azriael.

He tenses as he sees Ania’s attention drawn by a dark lioness, and he immediately shakes his head. “I don’t think it’s safe.” he insists, but he would never dream of stopping her if she really wished to assist. But that was his answer.

Wolfgang watches in silence for several more moments, seeing the dark lioness soon has concerned company. “She has help. Don’t put yourself at risk, my love.”

GOD KILLS INDISCRIMINATELY AND SO SHALL WE

His hindquarters flush with the floor, he still feels unbalanced and uncertain. He is seldom aware of the lack of his tail nowadays (when a phantom sensation of it arises, it is usually as an emotional display) but the stumpy lingering vertebrae aggravate him now. The enemy's right limb still attained within the grasp of his claws, he attempts to wrest it downward with a vision of better steadying himself. His claws out, of course, knuckles tense to try to keep their skewers intact.

Fangs crush into the right side of his mane, gathering russet fur and sticky blood-damp flesh in equal measure. An assortment of distinct fang cuts and other, messier patches of pulled hair afflict the region; it is not a grievous wound, by itself, but it is an advantageous lever for his opponent to use when the weight follows. Vermier's chest feels tight, compressed and bruised along the front, and he collapses toward his left side while aiming to swing his hind legs up to curl against his stomach. This is a defensive, instinctive maneuver. He also aimed to bite, his ears back and maw wide, and this is defensive aggression, a wild snap aimed at whatever he could reach but craving his opponent's face. It now appeared to be in shadow. Everything did.

@Alexander ♔ vs @Vermier
OH
5/5

Hits:

Rolling 5d20: 9 + 20 + 4 + 19 + 14

Dodges:

Rolling 5d20: 19 + 14 + 6 + 1 + 8

Luck:

Rolling 5d20: 1 + 15 + 13 + 8 + 16

Finally, the beast falls back toward his right and Alexander moves to take full advantage. Of course, he'd be a fool to think that he would not fight back. Teeth came clashing into the right side of his face, causing him to immediately release the side of Vermier's neck. Blood is flung from his mouth, dancing in the air briefly before landing with a heavy thud on the earth beneath them - that had become similarly covered. Lacerations quickly form from the abrupt, blunt hit of teeth before they'd cut deep and leave gashes along his cheek, toward his nose.

Back limbs shift forward, determined to try and not relent in the ground he'd made with his pushing. A heavy right paw moves to lift, attempting to punch against the side of his opponent's neck and force him down, wanting to try and 'stand' on the male to force him into submission, teeth snapping at his face in mere warning. "Stand DOWN!" The Savante beast bellows, a guttural growl reverberating in his chest. Alexander, despite challenging the male, had nothing truly against him, though he was certain the other would not hold the same feelings. Brutality was something he only reserved for his enemies.

Alexander vs. @Vermier
For Obsidian Hollow
0 1 2 3 4 5

Hits:

Rolling 8d20: 20 + 3 + 17 + 6 + 1 + 16 + 15 + 9

Dodges:

Rolling 5d20: 4 + 15 + 9 + 16 + 17

Luck:

Rolling 5d20: 13 + 20 + 15 + 6 + 1

code + art

He arrives late, far too late for his liking - the crowd gathered and focused upon the battle commencing. There had been chaos, he is sure, a flood of wrath and fury from more than one party as he peers about the land. The smell of blood was strong, and his anxiety from such was enough to direct him to the other members of his family who observed.

Anthonius prayed, silently, to their Wholly Mother that she may bless Alexander the strength to win them a home, a home that wasn't under someone else. Where the Savante weren't at the whim of others - but rather their own. He breathes in, muscles tense as he watches the ending - leaning forward ever so slightly as he anticipated the final result.

He is surprised.

The battles - the havoc.

But what had really taken his shock, had been the rest of his family. To see his sibling fighting for land - to see other Savante among the crowd that he had been separated from for so long. His lips part, eager to speak, but the sound of battle and Alexander's order to his opponent to stand down had taken his attention again.

He weighed his options, and decided late would be the time to talk. Now was the time to focus.

Shifting himself, he silently nears his family from a distance; features relieved to be in their presence once more as he watches the rest of the combat before him.

He also arrives late, having been at war with himself over whether or not to attend. There was still concern there about his jaw, if it was strong enough to withstand a fight so soon. But eventually his loyalty to his brother and kin won out. Better late than never, he supposed.

Shame filled the beast when paws carried him to see the end of the fight. Chaos reigned, and he'd been away for most of it. Silvery blue gaze swept the bodies that had gathered, deciding to sidle up to his brother for the remainder of the event. He'd aim to bump his shoulder against @Anthonius' , eyes clouded with an internal war. Rest had been important to heal himself, but he still felt the calls to violence as they passed like a leash around his neck - pulling him in.

Claws sank into the earth below, stare keen upon the strangers that were present. He'd gauge how rough his kin appeared. It seemed those gathered were alright, if not tired from their respective fights. The healers would need to mostly care for Alexander, he assumed.

Words failed him, so he'd settle in silence. Paws braced, ears pinned back and finding comfort in the warmth of his brother. It wasn't often he felt useless, but this was one of those rare few times. He'd stand sentinel for any stragglers that wished to battle, otherwise looking out for any sneak attacks on his family.

CODE / EditJackson on DA

Forest green eyes gazed out upon the growing crowd, her fur began to rise and she gently brushed @Rykers shoulder with her tail, her paws helping her back up just so she could turn to whisper in his ear. "Im gonna head home. " She casts her eyes towards the growing Savante crowd, her muscles were tensed, her ears pinning back, "Be safe." She gently lowers her body, and skirts her way around the hollows edges, before climbing towards the outside.

Being mindful of her large stomach, she tried to stay to the shadows as she exited, heading home to the rainforest and away from any potential dangers.

(Levana is attempting to exit unless stopped)

There was little he could really do to make the situation less stressful. It was a challenge, after all, and they were typically a hotbed of tension and violence. All he could really do was allow @Levana to hide against him while he kept watch for threats, and kept an eye on the main battle. Though he wasn't paying enough attention to truly guess the outcome.

After a moment or so, he felt his queen shift, and then her voice brushed his ear and he hummed softly. It was probably best if she wasn't here, yes. Alright. Be careful. Quiet, to match her tone, but he'd remain and ensure nobody tried to stop her from leaving. All he needed here was to see if Vermier would hold Obsidian or if yet another threat might be added to their list.

No shackles on the demon in me

I'd rather be dead than average

code by corvus

He is too new to these lands still. The waves of the valley, the sloping trails, the stone peaks that carve a solid silhouette against the skyline - all are unfamiliar to the beast's massive paws as he carves his way through trails of dying grass and gravelly earth.

The sound of war beckons him forth.

He is late, too slow in his navigation despite the momentum of his cantering form, his feet pounding against the earth like the thunderous beat of a drum. Perhaps if Mircea was aware of the history that had been written here in the blood of his kin, he might be more cautious in his approach. Perhaps not. He does not fear the power of whatever strangers might linger here. Not enough to be dissuaded from supporting his family.

He drags to a halt along @Anthonius's free side, his features stony as he gazes upon the crowd. Yet there is an odd light (or is it darkness) that flickers in his tan eyes, lip twitching over an elongated fang as his long claws scraped hard against the stony ground, their tips refined to a razor edge. A growl tickles the back of his throat, vibrating through the hollow of his chest, but he remains largely silent. What could he say that his brothers do not already know? Why ask about the whys and whos when the Savante knows his purpose here already? He stands with his kin always.

He is late indeed, left to examine only the aftermath of a storm of chaos and violence. Blood has been spilled here already, crimson painted across fur and earth. Both the precious blood of his kin and the blood of others, and Mircea's nostrils flare wide to capture the scent of it, muscles twitching beneath his thick coat in his forced stillness. He could almost taste the rich copper.

If only...

But no, he will not say that he is too late. The regal form of his elder brother has been torn into just like many others, dressed in more vibrant reds than just the natural hues of his coat, but Mircea knows Alexander is strong. Strong enough to drag his opponent to his knees, strong enough to overcome the wounds and the exertion.

And the war horse will be here to watch him win.

+5 Observe a fight (Alexander vs Vermier)
+5 Maintain your weapons (sharpen claws or care for teeth)
+5 Attend a spar or challenge to assess the wounds

Mircea Savante

If I wake from dreamless sleep, may tomorrow begin like a dream?

code by corvus