"When the time comes, you will have to fight me for it."

––––––––
Months had passed. What had seemed such an outlandish reality then had thawed like the frost of winter, seeping into the harsh crags of the mire and softening them with time. Bruno had first been timid of his newfound responsibility, and then tentative in his acceptance – now tenacious in what he felt he must do. It had become clear to him in those conversations as Heir that he was not so unequipped as he had once thought. A lifetime of forging blows aimed at the prince had not been in preparation of nothing, even if Luther might have liked him to believe it – may he rest in peace, surely below and not above.

Second Son went prowling through their mire with the faint glow of dawn rising up like potent miasma. He had not slept that night, the moon awash in a coat of fresh Rike blood so that Bruno could not tear his eyes away from its looming spectacle. He had to wonder if he shared this fate. The world might not remember her – might not speak her name as often as she was hissing in his head – but in quiet hours, Bruno wondered if his likeness to Erna bled from physical to karmic. How many of their kind would be made to bleed for the most feeble grasp of power in their world? How many would be slain?

"I believe fate is not what it is said to be. I believe its reins can be taken, that one can change the original plan. Those who believe it cannot be helped are not lions at all, but sheep."

He recalled the words of that cryptic prophet in the jungle as he strode toward that very training arena in which his father had held his lessons. The mire was always peaceful in the mornings. Bog birds twittered and hooed through the sticky fog, taking what shelter they could from the tentative drizzle of spring rain. Bruno stopped when he had reached the training tree, rolling his shoulders back as he gazed out over the empty marshlands in appreciation of this final moment of peace. It might be the last he tasted of solitude.

Then, determined, Bruno parted his teeth in a roar to summon the pride to that place. His senses were peeled with all the precision of a tracker as he flexed his claws into the sopping marsh with anticipation.

"It has been decided," he started in a projected baritone once his call was properly heeded, "that no one is fit to inherit command of Ecrosia without a proper fight." Bruno paused for a moment, though he doubted anyone in their ranks would be cheering to see the alternative nepotism unfolding that day.

"As heir, I will fight until it is clear I am fit to keep the Stärke stronghold." However long that takes.

He left no room for argument. There would be no political debate – not one that truly held anything over the brutish prince. Either he would rise with the dawn itself that day, or he would return the next.

––––––––
"You are born of two of the strongest families, the Stärke and the Rike -- you do not run away."

---

BRUNO vs. @Alaric
For Ecrosia Mire
Round 0 of 5
|| may y10 | two years | EM heir | at ecrosia mire |
!! THIS THREAD IS SEMI-PRIVATE:
only Bruno's personal allies, EM members, and prides marked allied/friendly by EM are allowed to post here. Other posts will be deleted without exception ||

The call jolts Freckle to wakefulness, a rare dozing moment sheltering from the spring-flush muds of the mires. He had known Bruno had been recently titled to succeed for the Mire (an exciting proposition, he had been extremely proud and pleased for his guardian). The call confused him. He was challenging his own father? Now this Freckle had to get and eyeful of.

With energy, he bounds through the mangroves and muck to be the first of the onlookers, golden eyes seeking @Bruno's - if only for a moment. A grin would spread across the muddy, spotted gentry's face as he settled for a prime position. Every muscle in his lean, young body quivered with anticipation for the battle soon to come. Of course, he was rooting for Bruno.

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

When she hears the call, she is startled to say the least. Odette had been exploring along the coastal end of the pride's lands, and she moved back inland- heading for the sound. Someone was challenging her dad for his throne? As she arrived, her eyes widened in interest at the dark hued male. He smelled of the Mire, and when he went on to speak, he said he was the heir. Yet... Odette felt... unsure about it, unsure about this tentative change.

She stood to the edge of the clearing, the ten month old body she was growing into- blue against the shadows- and she watched.

Watch and listen, Odette.

ART BY KIM, CODE BY LARS

there is a summons. the voice is bruno's.

morwënna's weeks had passed easily, growing more comfortable with the ideas presented to her by the then-prince of stability, his tones at the passage at odds to the way his voice now rang through the mire. there was a ferocity to it. she was, it seemed, unable to disobey; dutiful, steps carried her to an elected arena, apparently one of the first few to arrive - as bruno called for his father.

there was no losing ecrosia for their sovereign family, it seemed. either alaric remained titled, or he would retire in comfort with his son as their leader. morwënna considered the idea carefully, a tentative sense of comfort creeping its way into the pits of her stomach as she realise this was the stability bruno had promised. she settled in, and waited.

He'd known the challenge was coming, but he hadn't anticipated it so soon. In fact, Cairidan had almost wished it wouldn't come at all. Such was his life so easy, so simple; train, patrol, sleep, rinse, repeat. @Bruno had been a steady and unwavering presence, had become something of a mentor to his star-speckled counterpart. It were hard enough to find a balance of power with the curly-maned Prince, but with him being a King; Cairidan suddenly felt a pit form deep in his stomach, a sense of unworthiness creeping up where once he'd been content to push the princeling around and tease and taunt him as he did.

But with the weight of a crown, the world would suddenly seem far bigger than Cairidan. How easy it would be for him to be left in the dust, well where he belonged.

Perhaps if it weren't for that strange and pressing feeling deep in his chest, he would have done nothing. He would have watched from the safety of the treeline and watched a man stronger than him achieve a higher place in life. Cairidan would have remained, bastard boy, surrounded by his mud and his swamp and his distant, far-flung stars. But that foreign heat, that thrumming of his heart that demanded more kept his paws steady beyond the protection of the trees, his gaze focused forward upon the small gathering crowd as Bruno called his father to the battlefield.

He did not want to draw the attention away from the true spectacle, but he doubted he ever would; for as long as Alaric reined, the transition in leadership from father to son had never been accomplished before in the recent history of Amaryllis, and he doubted anything he could do or say would detract from this moment. Instead, his gaze focused solely on Bruno, a determined glance hidden deep within the sparkle of his eyes, relenting to that warmth that unfurled across his cheeks, his claws as they dug into the soft earth below. And then, he made his own call.

If you're ascending, I am, too.

Cairidan vs ???
for Gentry
o of iii

she did not need wait long. their defending leader had not yet arrived to battle his son - the summons had travelled wide, and the mire was enormous, its population heavy - but in her wake arrived another young male, coated in shadows, eyeing bruno much the way she did. critical. and he called, but she was already there, and she was knew, and - fuck it, there was one way to carve herself a place here. all or nothing.

she turned squarely to him, head low and gaze wicked, pupils narrowing as her blood ran thin. grow teeth, little morwe. become venom. elegantly pointed ears pressed all the way back, skull slick, she set her claws into the earth, eyes meeting her opponent's - no hard feelings, nothing personal, but equally nothing gained for either of them if the call was not answered, right?

morwënna vs @Cairidan
for gentry

0 out of 3

Ciara

It seemed Ecrosia was finally having something out of the boring and routine everyday life events. She of course loved her home, as there was her family, but sometimes she found herself wanting more than that, more than what she could find within the borders. She needed more action and new things to do and explore. And finally, her older brother had brought that new thing she had been needing for quite some time. She needed to thank him for that later; he deserved a flower gift after this! And perhaps she could ask if she could tend to his wounds! She wasn't a medic yet, but she wanted to help him still. That was what family was for, right?

She had the wish to go sit with her sister, but she also wanted to practice her sneaking skills. So, eating up the desire, she went into hiding within a few bushes, using the shadows and her dark coat to help her blend. Quiet on her steps, making sure she made no noise, and perhaps covering her steps with leaves—totally from a professional!

Ciara is hidding

---

+5 Practice disguising your appearance
+5 Practice covering your tracks
Possible exp:
+10 Remain undetected in a large thread (5+ characters)
+5 Infiltrate a group thread without getting caught

coded by flea

One could not appreciate the dawn for its poetic nature when each day brought sorrow more often than not, and villains sought to make theatrical entrances. Alaric had ruled for as long as she had lived here and she had successfully avoided him, instinctively wary of crossing authority. A good part of remaining unnoticed was calling nobody's attention to it. Hence her scattered presence, never reliable enough to predict and not diligent enough to invite promotion. As there may be a leadership change - though, coming from within, she knew it was no change at all - this was an excellent place to show her face and nothing of her soul.

Claws itched, nerves dancing along and beside plush fingers, for the presence of shadowed onlookers made her want to snarl and force them into the light. Cowards. Children, strangers, and if she was in charge there would be nobody gawking from the back but all would be ordered in attendance. She bore frustration with a stiff grin, black leathers stretched and gleaming reflections of canines within. And she bore humility, a bowed head, with perfect discipline and implicit pride. Soft stride. She cast gaze before her for a comfortable tussock of what passed for greenery here and just so happened to settle there as if the seat had been saved for her. The most casual of onlookers, yet - she was still beautiful, was she not? Did she not draw the eye unconsciously, provoking envy and fury?

Scorned gods, she hoped so.

ARTIS

The call was an unexpected one, but what was even more of a surprise was that it came from within their borders. Artis was finally growing into the lean and lanky form of a yearling, her first birthday coming up sooner than expected and she was eager to dig her own claws into the flesh of another. She slunk through the shadows, her icy blue gaze cutting through the trees to fall on the form of @Bruno. Artis knew enough about him, he was the Heir, one of her older brothers. Aside from that there wasn't much conversation to be had. She did a damn good job of avoiding her own littermates considering she was the least social out of the lot of them and wasn't exactly keen on getting close and cuddly with everyone. They were kin all the same, that was how she felt on the matter of it. But what was most intriguing was that his call was for father, now that had the wheels turning in Artis' mind.

She scans the faces gathered, her eyes resting on the form of @Freckle as she makes her way towards him. He wasn't that much older than her and she had a sneaking suspicion he might have had some sort of idea about what was happening today. "Did ye know that he was planning tae dae this?" The scot asks him before plopping her haunches onto the ground beside him. The fight that broke out amongst the onlookers didn't necessarily come as a surprise. @Caridian in particular always had a pension for sinking his claws into others from what Artis had noticed in other fights so no shocker there. The woman that squared off with him however was a complete stranger. Funny how that worked. But again, she wasn't the best at paying attention to those who lived here. She'd rather mind her own business. If Freckle had any inclination of Bruno's plans she wanted to know about it, simply because she needed to know if there was something other strategy behind it all.

[barbarian/paladin exp]
+5 Discuss a battle strategy
+5 - Observe a fight (Bruno v. Alaric)
+5 - Observe a fight (Morwënna v. Cairidan)

code by flea, art by kim

Emory paused and looked upward into the cloudy dawn, his ears cupped forward and grasping onto the roar that resounded across the territory. He couldn’t put a face to the voice—admittedly, he knew very few of the family members he shared the Mire with—but calls like this typically weren’t to be ignored. What would his parents think if he failed to make an appearance at something so important enough to call everyone to it?

With them in mind, the albino boy followed the familiar paths he’d explored in previous adventurous nights, winding his way across the swampy land toward the location of the summons and creeping up from the shadows—he had a tendency to find them whenever the sunlight threatened to come around.

But as he peeked out into the gathering from afar, he didn’t see either figure of his parents, or his siblings for that matter. Emory frowned, taking stock of those already in attendance, the electric energy radiating through those who were taking advantage of the moment to assert their authority and rise through the ranks. So that’s what this is about. Ascension.

It was still roughly a foreign concept to the young boy—he didn’t understand yet how all these political changes took place, why they took place, the significance of this moment he was witnessing—but it was still something to watch play out. Intrigued despite his ignorance, the ghostly child crept into a more concealed bit of foliage and settled upon his belly, craning his head to peek through a small gap at the lion who seemed most anticipatory of something. Unless he saw someone he recognized, he figured he was safe to watch from afar.

(( Emory is attempting to hide. ))

Image by Bianca Ackermann - Table by Mouser