Part vampire Part warrior
Carnivore and voyeur
we all feed on tragedy,
it's like blood to a vampire

Hunger, loss and tragedy has carved the red behemoth into a cold, icy man. Avaneira's death had left him an empty shell, and despite his attempts to move on, even with other lovers, he had barely coped with the loss of his beloved wife. They had wedded in secrecy, but it was the closest thing to fullness he had ever felt. He feels like a wraith, a ghost; on the verge of being erased from existence, with no legacy or memories to leave behind. He moves with a restlessness, now, feeling his muscles surge beneath his thick, winter fur as his lean frame slips forward beneath beams of both moonlight and shadow.

Perhaps, it is this emptiness, this miserable desperation - this clinging unto life - that drives the red beast forward; to climb the tall, endless mountains of Illyrian Summit with a renewed thirst to see himself come undone. But it is not ambition that pulls the man forward, instead, it is feelings of loss, dread and unspoken loneliness. Where once he breathed fire, hunger and passion, there was only the dull taste of ash drying upon his tongue. Truth be told, Amaroq feels dead inside, and no matter how many times he's tried to run from his fears, he could never escape winter's wrath. He could never escape his love for Avaneira.

Perhaps, that is why he is here. To face the remnants of Avaneira. To belong somewhere, even if it meant at the point of their knives and sharp, spiteful fangs.

Snowfall descends the summit; nightfall slips like an omnious reverie, falling like sheets of obsidian to the pillowing ivory of the earth below. This is not his first time being here, and his scent loiters around the borders like a barely-there whisper against the wind, a ghost. When the red titan comes to pause at the edge of their territory, there is no prowling hunger in his stride, but a loose and calm, lupine swagger. And it is quiet and desolate and empty, when Amaroq arrives at @Morrigan ♔'s borders. And all this emptiness is a reflection of his lost soul.

Amaroq vs. Morrigan
Illyria Summit
0 of 5

she will not be protected by the borders here. it had been an arduous trek, as faustine had grown used to the flatlands down below. even the weather here bit her in pinpricks of sharp teeth, as if it too demanded her to leave. faustine was somewhat aware of the fragile truce between her pride and this summit pride. thus, she maintained her composure and kept herself from crossing the border. instead, faustine picked a tall rock with a flat surface to climb on. while winter lorded over all other seasons in this land, her body quickly grew used to its touch. and faustine, the ghoul she was, felt the incessant desire for a reason to sink her fangs in. a hunger was kindling inside her chest, only growing strong knowing a challenger had came for this pride.

[ooc; faustine is open for dom matches and minor maims with someone who has an equal number of dices!]

code: cala | art: drifty

i

cut my own throat / close my own wound / wear my own nightdescended blood

---

It would happen again eventually. The ides of history always repeated itself, thrusting its unwitting victims into a vicious cycle that set them adrift down the very same paths, with varying consequences. Radahn did not know this man, just as he had never known the last, but he arrived at the challenge just as steeled and cold as he would had he known. The youngling Carrion Prince had long begun to grow out his mane, tufts of unkempt hair falling into his face, cascading the sides of his neck; his eyes grew ever-darker, depths of wine red encompassing a fury unrelenting. But his expression is otherwise steeled, a chilled nonchalance, as if untethered to the whims of mortals were it not for his Queenmothers.

But as his gaze scanned the bleak horizon and all but ignored he who would end up becoming another thrall tossed from the mountainside, he spotted @Faustine on the other side of the border, hungering and malingering in all her uncouth mannerisms. A scowl unfurled across his lips, moving decidedly away from where she linger, though not quite out of her notice. As he moved, a hissed prayer stumbled out of his mouth, remembering to keep it quiet, eager to avoid the scolding of his mother where he could help it.

---

+10 Cast a curse or blessing on a character/group (1/2)
+5 Meditate or pray on your own or with someone else (1/2)

she absolutely had no business here.

but the red pelt, the frozen rush of his gaze that rivaled the icy peaks themselves and the woodsy, smoky fragrance that clung to him - amaroq.

she trails though the cold halls of the summit, trembling beneath her short coat. imogen wills herself to continue onwards through sheer willpower, following the steps of the carmine knight. in the darkness, each pawprint of his is like a guiding compass on a map and imogen comes to an immediate halt when the overwhelming scent of a pride reaches her. the little medic is obviously confused as she stares ahead, wondering what about this place of interest; the mountainside appears to be a haven, one already occupied by many and the fur along her spine rises in a dangerous ridge. did he want this place?

nervously, imogen waits a safe distance away and outside the staunch borders of the summit pride. she can't seem to find her voice as she watches him, worried, ears tilted towards the black horizon for the defender of this kingdom.

CODE BY LARS, ART BY 86

Arkyn wasn’t too far away from the Summit whenever he heard the call. It was such a familiar call; one he’d heard many times as well as called them himself a time or two. But knowing it was another challenging for his estranged aunt’s home didn’t sit well with the beast. Sure, they didn’t have a close relationship, nor had they seen each other recently, but that didn’t mean he wanted Morrigan to lose her home. Colossal paws carried the Viking forward until he was at the foot of the mountain. With a grunt he’d begin his ascent, moving along the worn-down trail and bracing himself for the cold that soon hit him in the face.

He makes quick work of climbing the snowy mountain, feeling his lungs burn and his muscles ache. Yellow eyes stare out ahead of him as they land upon a maroon figure, one that he had come across before. Lip curls into a silent snarl as Arkyn stalks forward, shoulders rolling and his toes flexing. “Losing my mother wasn’t enough?” He calls out to the man, tone thick with distaste. “You now feel like you have to try to take her sister’s home from her?” Eyes narrow, and if this wasn’t a pride challenge the beast would have thrown himself at @Amaroq. “She really dug herself in deep, didn’t she.” It was not a surprise to anyone that Arkyn had such a hatred toward Avaneira, and seeing the one that called her his lover was just as humorous as believing the woman had a loving bone in her body. She was nothing but a coward and a whore in his eyes, a way she will forever be remembered by him.

BITE BACK IN ANGER

ART BY 86, CODE BY DEE, MODIFIED BY GUNNER

He'd only just found his footing again when the call for a challenge roar out among the horizons of the Summit.

Ears twitch on Mateo's head, and confusion settles deep in his gut - the question of why repeating over and over again internally. He did not understand it, this need for power - for land. Part of him wondered if he was just too young to understand, if he hadn't hit the point to where it would all make sense to him. He'd seen enough violence, been involved in enough even, but it had all never made sense to him.

With a furrow in his brow, the yearling settles down among the sidelines, gaze watching the others with an intensity. He studies, observes - and even more so, he is ready to help however he can.

postscript by aurora

Seifri is attempting to hide.

Cloaking her scent, the Saxe refuses to be a chew toy for the Summit members.

The bellowing roar that hummed from the lands had intrigued her, and no doubt called to the curiosity of so many others. Seifri worked hard to apply the mud over her limbs, soaking it into her pelt to cover any traces of her true smell. She was eager for the information - and even more eager to bring it back to her Mother.

Darkness engulfs the land, something Seifri is grateful for. As she slinks forward, she does her best to keep to the shadows; eyes greedily taking in the forms of those already present. No fight has begun - yet - and she is certain it would be a bloodbath. Part of her wondered - would they think her family had anything to do with this?

While the challenger does not cross the borders, Seifri does attempt to with his distraction. She aims to veer within; rounding behind rocks, attempting to hide herself behind the scenery all while taking in the structure of the Summit. Taking in a slow breath, she peers onward, hoping her attempts to remain undetected worked in her favor.

+10 Spy on another pride or family’s event (IS Challenge/Sle)
+10 Sneak into a pride or group without getting caught (IS/Sle)
+10 Remain undetected in a large thread (5+ characters) (IS/Sle)

( immediately following her thread with Amandil ) - ( stopping just outside the borders )

Dio had not been present to bear witness to the crimes upon the Brook and her family there. She had heard of the attack, the subsequent loss of their home, but they had just been words. A bad dream, maybe one even embellised by her father. She loved Caligula, and he in turn loved to tell stories and tales. Dio hoped it had all been a little inflated...

And then she heard the call as she and @Amandil were heading towards Illyria. Dio had been hesitant over returning, to seeing her family here and how they fared. Now she regretted not moving faster, not coming sooner. Today she would arrive back on their doorstep and become introduced to the chaos, to the crimes, to exactly what had befallen the Brook. She stumbles forwards, running as fast as allowed on the peaks paths, and emerged near the borders. No.. no. Dio muttered and clenched her eyes tightly shut. Her paws grabbed the earth while she tried to feel her soul, finding in the absence of Maua's warmth there was only fear and guilt. Please Maua, please keep my family safe. Let them have the land be it your will but don't let them come to harm for it. She rythmically prayed, standing at the borders and not yet checking if Amandil had kept up and arrived with her. She muttered and mumbled under her breath, pulsing her thoughts and energy out as well she could into the Summit. Into hearts, to clear away any ill thoughts within her own mind as well as those around her.

+10 Cast a curse or blessing on a character/group
+5 Meditate or pray on your own or with someone else
+5 Cleanse an area of bad omens_{CODE | BACKGROUND | ART BY MUULAND}

He had bolted up the sheer, winding cliffside right on her heels, arriving to a gathering, the air charged with the promise of violence. Amethyst gaze cast the area, searching for familiar faces, landing on @Mateo before he looked towards @Diomedeidae.

Something about her drew him towards the lioness and Amandil attempted to press himself against her side, to offer warmth and support. They would manage here - they would come out of this.. Morrigan had to. He felt his hackles rising, eyes landing on each lion in attendance, noting each for future reference. Mateo was an immediate concern, but he so far was safe and the silver Casales continued his surveillance of the gathering.

---

Open to any and all fights

table art and code by Bluey

LAVENDER

She bloomed with rage. Despite the chill of a snow-fallen night on the mountaintop, the warmth of fury hissed as it spread through Lavender's very veins at the sound of the audacious call. The princess scrambled from her rocky perch, fragrant twigs of herbs forgotten as they clattered to the crags below.

The sight of them gathering only served to fuel her onward. Her people, breathless and bristling, poised against this devil-red threat even as he stood in his challenge. Lavender spat against the snow as she fixed him with a narrow glare despite how the snowflakes clung to her lashes. She looked then to her littermate, his scowl a constant comfort in its familiarity, though it was their speckled enemy from the peak near him that had the cub's tail lashing at her ankles. It was then that she felt something creeping up her spine like being watched. Glowering, Lavender turned to see what it could be.

---

|| september y10 | ten months | IS royalty | at illyria summit | @Radahn ||
Attempting to locate @Seifrienriosa:

Rolling 1d10: 4

coded by flea + background credit