Ears perked at the call, hurt blossomed in her chest, her husbands rank was being challenged, she waited, hoping she would hear his answer ring through he mires, but knowing it wouldn't. Crimson paws carry her to the clearing, she hears Alaric, her eyes flicking to meet his, but they dart away so he wouldn't see the hurt in them, instead she moves to slide up next to him.

She pins her ears back, she was now fully healed, the place where her tail had been was healed finally, though she was still healing from the barony challenge. "Ill do it, if no one else wishes to. Someone that's not a child." Her eyes flick to Freckle, her voice sounds tired, hushed, but her muscles flex, ready to move if necessary. It was her husbands rank, she felt it only right if no one else wanted to, she would be the one to fight for it.

ART COPYRIGHT XXX / CODE COPYRIGHT ANALESE

His attention faltered at the flicker of movement out of his peripherals. Bruno noted Cairidan's form at his sister's side, pressed there in conspiring in a way that made his chest burn. He only urged the embers onward – righteous fury over a status quo thoroughly disheveled, he thought.

When would the Ecrosians learn their lines? Irate fatigue dragged the prince downward, slowed his movements, wore at him. It was exhausting to be the only one sticking to the script.

"Adalwolf is missing. Are there any here who wish to fight her for it?" The prince twitched his whiskers at the king's arrival, both dramatic in announcement and lacking in punishment in equal measure. Oh, why did those emeralds linger on him? He only arched a brow to show his disinterest in testing someone he did not think should be challenging in the first place.

It was his plucky ward to save him from more direct refusal. Bruno twisted his expression as he angled his head down to gaze at the small youth, both thrilled at how his German was coming along and bewildered at the notion of him taking on such a fight. How old was he now, anyway? His stomach tightened as it occurred to him that he had never asked for the cub's birthday. Would an orphan even know such a thing? Such thoughts threatened to carry the royal away with uncertainty until another vocal fry scraped against the air.

"I'll do it if no one else wishes to. Someone that's not a child."

He plunged jade daggers into her skull, a detesting frown making its home upon his muzzle as he turned to regard the red woman at his father's flank.

"That 'child' is a Stärke and will be respected as such," Bruno barked as he swept his ears backward, making a point to let his glare linger upon her in an unspoken threat. You get one warning, woman. "Besides, he's old enough now. Freckle will fight if he wishes," the prince finally relented with the order, glancing briefly to his father in search of disagreement.

He did not show the way his stomach flipped at the idea of it. He did not show how he himself underestimated the boy.

---

@Cairidan @Freckle @Astarte @Alaric

Though not obtusely seeking, he hopes his guardian’s eyes are on him at this moment. Look Bruno, didn’t you teach me well. says the proud puff of the boy’s barely-maned chest.

Yet adversity rears it’s head and the boy’s face pinches in a curl of his lip at the dismissive tone @Astarte adopts. In Freckle’s mind, he was no longer a helpless babe. He sneers, feeling protected by the sharp reprimand Bruno delivers her in a barking tone.

And besides-

“You could barely defend y' previous title.” he blurts harshly, thinking back to the fight he had only recently observed. “Maybe a child would do a better job.” Spoken down to, by a woman? He would not duck his head and submit.

With a confidence clearly established and many faces to impress, Freckle would not be cowed. Especially, because of something particular his guardian had said. A Stärke. Yes, that felt right. Had he not been here for nearly all of his life, raised as one?

In his chest his heart beat like it was a ball of butterflies trying to escape his ribs, the excitement of contest burning in his blood.

stock © nikita burdin, lines © riot, code © hinter

The younger lions are not left to linger long before the King makes his arrival, confirming their suspicions that the Gentry that this woman challenged was injured and missing. Cairidan spared a fleeting glance at @Bruno ♔ as his father offered to let another lion fight in their stead, and the star-speckled boy might have stepped up to the plate if the Prince's ward had not first. I'll fight her, @Freckle announces, causing a curious brow to lift on the older boy's face. The freckled lion had grit, but the challenger seemed as feral as she did eager, and he wondered if he would be able to hold his own against her; of course, he would not try to stop them. Experience was the best form of learning, and from the early morning training sessions he'd spent with Bruno and the days of soreness that lingered in the days after, Cairidan knew that fact by heart.

It is when the older form of @Astarte steps in that Cairidan's lip twitches, irritation sprawling across his expression at the idea of watching a cat fight instead of seeing what Bruno's squire had learned. The boy was freshly a yearling, sure, but Cairidan remembered well how he'd had to endure and survive at his age, how he'd learned to hunt and defend for himself. He were just as worthy of a fight. Thankfully, Bruno seemed to agree; and Cairidan could not help the flutter in his chest watching the curled tendrils of his mane flare with the anger woven into his breath. The protectiveness with which Bruno keened over Freckle caused a stir to swell in his belly, one that provoked him to his paws, leaving the side of @Giulia and approaching the gathering crowd.

He is silent in the wake of Bruno's and Freckle's threats, but as he shoulders his way between them and makes his way toward Astarte, he attempts to make it so that he is the only thing she sees. You heard the Prince, He croons, a clever smirk unfurling on his dark lips; his claws unsheathed, stretching into the soft earth. But, if you want to fight so bad—

His right paw suddenly raised; and, with claws sheathed, he attempted to smack her across the side of her left cheek.

Cairidan vs Astarte
for Dominance
i of iii

Hits:

Rolling 6d20: 18 + 11 + 7 + 12 + 6 + 13

Dodges:

Rolling 4d20: 8 + 17 + 5 + 15

Luck:

Rolling 5d20: 2 + 10 + 14 + 13 + 16

She is drawn. Moth to the flame and all of that. To watch. To know. Knowledge ordained day after day, moment after moment. Imrae couldn't be everywhere at once, watching everyone else for what they did or did not. What was said and what was done. She was but one young woman in the shadows of this mighty pride. She was nothing and that was quite alright with her... or so she told herself at least. Imrae did not know any different after all.

At least today there was a commotion- there were many she could watch all at once and that meant a boon. She crept in closer and closer, following strong scents and then eventually sounds of scuffling and voices. She kept her foot fall light and kept moving at a steady pace until she saw them and had a good view. Then she nestled down upon her belly and watched.

( Imrae is hiding )

She didn't leave the family den often, at least not during the darker hours anyways. But there was an awful lot of commotion going on and Eris couldn't resist her own curiosity. The young girl wanders away from her den and towards the sound of others. She stays towards the thicker bushes, planning to hide and just spy on what was happening. But immediately her gaze falls towards @Odette, her new friend and she was less inclined to hide. She meanders closer, eventually moving to take a seat closest to the older cub as her green eyes watch the aggressive actions of the adults. Was this a play fight? "Vy do zey fight?" She asks then, gaze scrutinizing the adults as she waits for an answer.

code to pine

this world is dying in our arms

It doesn't take long for chaos to creep in, as it was want to do. @Freckle spoke up quickly, and Alaric had to admire the boys gumption. It was unlikely he'd stand a chance -- even if Bruno had been passing along his own lessons -- but he couldn't fault the growing boy for wanting to try. @Astarte is quick to put down the possibility and Alaric opens his mouth to inform her he did not have a problem with it, but @Bruno ♔ beats him to it. "That 'child' is a Stärke and will be respected as such," The wheat king could not mask his surprise -- though he knew that Bruno had taken the youngling under his proverbial wing he didn't think it had gone so far. Not that he took any issue with it, but it was a surprise nonetheless. "The boy can fight," he confirms, his voice carrying the authority that he expected to be respected. A male he knows little of steps up to challenge Astarte to a match and the King steps back, unwilling to get in the way of the little spats that tended to break out around here. Fighting was good for the body and soul in his mind. Maybe it could help her, too. His attention shifts to the impending fight, watching Lunaire closely to see what she would do..

code // art

Feeling the twitch of her lip as it almost curled to flash fangs at the yearling, then to Bruno, she stopped herself, anger bubbling up, she flashed at Freckle, "Defend your title after losing a limb, being thrown from a cliff, and starving for weeks. Without the help of your pride. " She growled, eyes quickly looking to Bruno, claws digging into the Mire under her, muscles twitching under skin, but she hears Alaric and nods, ready to step back, almost grateful for the excuse to let herself walk away, until someone else steps forward.

She growls lowly as the male speaks, aim in dryer left cheek, she feels the slap, her head jerking with the force, she stumbles, her body staggering a bit as she inhales sharply. And she realizes, she was correct, she was not in any shape to fight. With a hiss, she lowers her body, still dazed, but gathering herself, she would then attempt to turn away, to try and leave, the taste of blood filling her mouth.

Rolling 1d10: 1

ART COPYRIGHT XXX / CODE COPYRIGHT ANALESE

”The boy can fight,” confirms the king and Freckle’s heart thunders in his chest with a mix of surprise and excitement. With a proudly arched neck, he steps forward to level his amber gaze upon @Lunaire. He was not nervous. Regardless of if he won or lost here, he thought he had proved a point for himself, carved out a little piece of respect that he was now more steadily certain he deserved.

“I will be y’ opponent.” he addresses Lunaire with an eager flick of his tail. Leaving clear space between them and the brawl that had erupted between Cairidan and Astarte, Freckle settles himself into a light-footed, braced stance, his head low and ears instinctively flattened. He was not a skilled fighter, but nobody could surely deny the spotted yearling had guts.

Freckle vs. @Lunaire
For Gentry
0/3

stock © nikita burdin, lines © riot, code © hinter

Few by few, pride members trickled in, peering, watching, whispering. She didn't listen to what they had to say, too immersed in her own thoughts, her own focus on waiting for the man to come. Waiting for Luther to come. But neither would. Brothers, sisters, and even his father would show- but not her husband. Were he truly too busy to even see you tear flesh from someone's bones for her place here? Why was she even is wife, if she meant so little? It filled her with a rage she didn't understand, and unable to comprehend she simply would turn towards @Alaric as he asked those gathered who would challenge her in the Rike's place.

And to her surprise, a bit younger and a bit smaller than she would offer himself. Had she not been so numb, angry and stunned from the combination of things happening, she would have been unable to keep herself from giggling at the boy. But instead, she shrugged her shoulders and brought herself to her paws, peering around to see if anyone else would take the kid's place. @Astarte would offer, her words quite quickly turning her into a target for a star speckled male who decided she was in no position to take the boy's place. The boy who was supposedly a Starke.

So was she, right? Luther had claimed her, made her his wife. She was strong, willing to kill for him. And for some reasons he simply wanted her to remain docile. She didn't want to remain docile. She wanted to wage war, rip the unworthy to shreds, kill a god. Because that is what devils did, right? Spite the divine?

Here, now, as the prince's son stepped forward and confirmed he would be her opponent, a slow broken smile found its way across her muzzle. Make a mosaic of his blood. the voice whispered, and with a quiet giggle, Lunaire parted her paws to evenly distribute her weight, lowering her neck and pinning back her ears. Okie dokie! She said cheerfully before with an erupting snarl she lunged, claws outstretched to attempt to grab whatever flesh may be facing her.

Lunaire vs. @Freckle
For Gentry
Round 1/3
Hits:

Rolling 4d20: 4 + 17 + 16 + 7

Dodges:

Rolling 7d20: 18 + 6 + 8 + 7 + 12 + 9 + 15

Luck:

Rolling 5d20: 1 + 11 + 17 + 10 + 12