Adalrik’s claws manage to tighten their grip as the pair fall to the ground, his claws sinking further into the pretty white skin of Emory. Perhaps this success was a sign for Adalrik, for him to be cautious about his next movements, but the young lion does not listen.

Emory’s claws drag along the wet dirt beneath, droplets the only sign of his struggle. He was only able to shift himself onto his right side before Adalrik intervenes, teeth sinking into his neck. The feeling of such success was short-lived, as Emory seemed to be a bit of a fighter. He threw his head back and Adalrik could not stop him — they are slammed against the ground beneath, vibrations echoing through his skull as the ringing around him disorientates him.

Adalrik grunts. Emory is successful as he reached blindly towards Adalrik, his claws from his right paw making contact with his forehead. Claw-like lacerations slice his forehead, opening up pretty wounds as blood dripped down and into his eyes. In frustration, Adalrik attempts to thrash his head side to side violently, attempting to maintain a hold on the muscles in the back of Emory’s neck.

Simultaneously, Adalrik’s left paw reaches out, and with claws splayed, attempts to swipe against Emory’s left flank, attempting to push downwards and back.

Adalrik vs @Emory
for Minor Maim
Round three of four

Hits:

Rolling 4d20: 13 + 12 + 10 + 11

Dodges:

Rolling 2d20: 12 + 4

Luck:

Rolling 5d20: 15 + 12 + 13 + 5 + 8

 

The damned lion refused to let go. Even slamming his head back into the ground seemed to have little enough effect, while Emory felt it jar his neck slightly in the attempt. Maybe not the smartest thing he could have done after all…

He felt that same bite jostle and pull as the other lion thrashed with his heavy scruff in his jaws, clinging tight and causing the poor albino’s wounds to bleed all the more. Fresh pain stung down the side of his flank, but it was quiet background noise compared to his neck.

Growling deeply, he rolled, his head craned at an awkward angle due to the grip the lion had on him, but his backend was free to twist onto his side and precariously get his feet under him. Rather than try to pull away, he shoved his neck into the other’s face, bearing down on him in an attempt to momentarily smother him or, at the very least, obscure his vision with his cloudy mane.

Barely giving himself enough room, he reached beneath himself with grasping claws for the lion’s side, blindly attempting to bring his right foreleg’s claws down the lion’s sensitive underbelly.

Emory vs. @Adalrik
for Minor Maim
Round 3 / 4
Hits:

Rolling 5d20: 12 + 7 + 14 + 15 + 8

Dodges:

Rolling 2d20: 18 + 15

Luck:

Rolling 6d20: 12 + 11 + 2 + 18 + 16 + 4

If Adalrik was anything, he was persistent. His jaws thrash violently side to side, ripping the albino’s flesh away from his body, blood following eagerly in his wake. Adalrik releases his grip from the boy’s next, holding pieces of severed neck flesh in his jaws, his sides panting from slight exertion.

The Mire Prince spits out the flesh from his mouth to his side, but before he can do anything additional with his teeth, he is met with a face full of fur. A low rumble erupts from Adalrik’s chest, and he holds off on his attack for a split second, feeling the muscles of Emory begin to twist and contort.

The ivory male twists his body awkwardly, and Adalrik attempts to pull his face up and away from the face full of fur he had been eating. There is little the man can do to stop Emory from attacking his tender underbelly. Cruelly, Adalrik attempts to seize the moment of movement and the Prince attempts to lunge down and, with parted jaws, attempts to latch his teeth around Emory’s neck, attempting to find some sort of purchase in the area where his delicate skin protects his windpipe/chin.

Simultaneously, Adalrik attempts to push his weight further down onto Emory to prevent him from twisting further.

{Adalrik} vs @Emory
for {Minor Maim}
Round {four} of four

Hits:

Rolling 4d20: 20 + 2 + 18 + 7

Dodges:

Rolling 2d20: 8 + 19

Luck:

Rolling 5d20: 2 + 9 + 19 + 17 + 14

His claws—miracle of miracles—found their mark on the lion’s underbelly, and Emory raked them down the other youth’s side, still not even registering now that he fought a relative despite having a clearer view of him at last. It didn’t matter. The fight consumed him, every piece of him, as did the innate desire to defend his family, defend himself, from this outside threat.

With his feet under him it was easier to maneuver, to see what was coming and properly react, and so he did. As his cousin—Uncle? Nephew?—lunged toward him, teeth bared in a bite aimed somewhere at his front, Emory tried to throw his head into the bite, attempting to slam his cheek and jaw against the hungry, glistening teeth of his attacker in a sudden headbutt that transitioned into an attempted bite at the other’s face.

Feeling him press in on him at the same time, once more trying to pin him in place, the albino youth pivoted with him, following Adalrik’s momentum and trying to slip out and away from his oppressive maneuver. Staying low, he tried to take advantage of it by attempting to sweep the claws of his right foreleg down the front of the lion’s left one, anything to draw a little more blood on his side.

Emory vs. @Adalrik
for Minor Maim
Round 4 / 4
Hits:

Rolling 5d20: 13 + 14 + 5 + 11 + 9

Dodges:

Rolling 2d20: 11 + 3

Luck:

Rolling 6d20: 18 + 12 + 2 + 13 + 17 + 4

@Adalrik VS. @Emory FOR Minor Maim
— RESULTS —

Adalrik Hits: 4 + 1 + 3 + 2 + 5 luck = 15
Adalrik Dodges: 2 + 2 + 1 + 1 = 6

Emory Hits: 3 + 3 + 3 + 3 + 6 luck = 18
Emory Dodges: 0 + 2 + 2 + 1 = 5

Adalrik Successful Hits: 10
Emory Successful Hits: 12

Emory HAS WON THE CHALLENGE FOR Minor Maim!

---

WOUNDED ROLL

performed on discord by @AbjectTerrier

Adalrik is automatically WOUNDED for losing!

Emory Wounded Roll: 2

Emory is NOT WOUNDED!

Profiles will be adjusted to reflect the wounded rolls, which, if received, reduce the character’s hits and dodges by -1 for an standardized amount of time. Any wounded rolls received from this fight are considered healed as of December 8th, 2023, and are logged in the wounded log. Once healed, post in Trade & Dice Updates to have your dice returned to normal.

In official wars and raids, fight result timers and posting restrictions are negated. Posting may continue, but the results of this fight cannot be acknowledged ICly until either both challengers have responded, or if 3 days have gone by. Whichever comes first!

The battles finished one by one and Astarte found herself more annoyed at her partners weakness than feeling like she'd actually fought a battle for her pride, with a huff and an annoyed snarl, she would turn on her heel, stalking away from the battle area, she could smell her husband and decided she would begin tracking @Rainer. If she could not get her frustration out on the enemy, then poking the bear per se would have to do.


The lioness finally crept from the Mre, cloaked in the shadows of the night, following after her husband, why had he been in the Mire, why had he disappeared after? A frustrated snort of air would leave her nostrils as her still very coiled muscled ached to spring at some opponent.

/Exit

ART COPYRIGHT XXX / CODE COPYRIGHT ANALESE

there is a beast made of murder

Grimm sat and watched, even as no one seemed to answer his small pipsqueak questions. His blue eyes were trained on the way the High Sovereign and the white lion tore at each other with such ferocity. It was intoxicating. His little muscles tensed and he leaned forward, clearly way too absorbed in the fight.

The only thing that interrupted him was hearing his mother's voice as she barked orders at him and his brother, telling them to go sit by their uncle Adeo. Grimm scoffed at her, but eventually his little legs carried him closer to Adeodatus where the male would likely keep him and his brother safe should anything have gone awry.

But it didn't. Sorta.

The challenger was defeated, though a lot more fighting broke out as his allies descended upon the Mire. His people fought to defend their border and drive the trespassers out; they fought... well, he didn't know what they defended exactly. All he knew was that the smell of blood in the immediate area grew a lot thicker than it was.

Grimm jumped at the sudden sound of his father's voice, but welcomed the pat on his back as @Rainer praised him and his brother for being there, watching. Grimm's eyes glistened at his father's words. This was how kings were made? By shedding blood and besting your opponents? Yessss! Grimm's eyes slid to his sleepy brother @Bastien in an eager attempt to rile the boy to his level. Perhaps it didn't work, though, because the boy was more agitated about his loss of sleep than animated about the chaos around them.

Their father disappears into battle nearby soon after, and again, Grimm is swept up in the thrill of the fight! He can't wait until he's old enough to do it himself! He looked over at Bastien, half-tempted to tackle the boy now, but he's distracted into restraint as his father's fight teeters a bit too close to them.

Grimm twists his head to find their mother locked in battle as well! Damn! Were they the only ones not fighting anyone? Grimm pouts as he watches the chaos around him. He is frustrated that he cannot join in, but he's too intrigued to leave. /exit via fade-out

that I can no longer keep chained

code x art x inspo

Unlike during the battle against his feral sister, Emory felt the power shift between himself and his attacker, an advantage being gained on his end. He didn’t need to exert much more effort; much of the damage had already been done by his initial headbutt to the other yearling’s jaw. With a heavy growl, he swung his paw at the same spot and felt it solidly connect. Something shimmering flew away at the same moment—a dislodged tooth—but he didn’t notice.

His attention stayed glued to the yearling, finally taking full stock of who he was, committing his face and unique look to memory. “Think twice about crossing me, or either of my sisters, again,” he rumbled in warning, sparing him only a toothy hiss before he looked for his siblings. He seemed to have lost Eris in the scuffle—which he could only assume was a good thing—and spotted Runa crumpled upon the ground, alone and forgotten.

They weren’t going to let her leave. They weren’t going to let any of them leave. Resigned to this fate, knowing their father wouldn’t be there to help them through the mess he’d dragged them into, Emory went to Runa’s side and, mindful of the obvious injuries he could see on her person, he gently took hold of the clearest portion of her scruff he could find—damn her intolerably long mane—and dragged her somewhere she could rest and begin healing in whatever peace could be found in enemy territory.

@Adalrik

-Exit Emory /w @Runa into EM-

Unbeknownst to Eris, @Emory had won his fight. He had been victorious in protecting himself, while she ran like a coward through the home they grew up in. Even if she manage to make her escape, she would not be able to leave here. She was a prisoner in this place, amongst family. Family that would now be turned enemies thanks to her father's decisions. But they were not her decisions. With one last burst of energy she wrenches herself forwards, away from @Myra's grasp. And suddenly, she does not feel her breath behind her. She doesn't dare look back, she doesn't dare slow down. The yearling bolts and even though her body has been pushed past the brink of exhaustion she knows she cannot stop running. She ducks and weaves, sprinting through the Mire until she makes it out into open air. Only then does her emerald gaze wildly search behind her only to see nothing, to see no one. And though she had the perfect opportunity to leave, she stays. She weaves her way back through the shadows of her home. Her siblings were here and so she too, was chained here with them. She could not abandon them.

exit.

code by flea, art by rabbit

There was more going on around her that she would have liked. Their home, their beautiful, beautiful home was full of smelly, irreverent strangers. It was a disgrace, but nothing shook her as much as being attacked like some common soldier.

It was as if they did not know she and her sisters were godscrafted. Or they did not care, which was unfathomable. They stolen some peasant or other but she cared not. She would be someone else's issue. Her issue stemmed in how she was unwillingly drawn into a conflict she would have ignored were it not for her sisters.

Her sisters.

Looking to @Ianthe and @Hekate, Arsinoë spoke without a word: we need to talk.

Preferably, away from these intruders to their sanctuary.

And so she drew away, knowing they would soon follow.

Exit Arsinoë.