Io didnt have deep knowledge about the status of other prides. Or at least not enough to know the reasoning for this man to be calling the woman to a fight to the death. Something very serious, a way without return. But she had to guess if the male was that serious with killing somebody; it had to be someone he either hated or had offended him way too much in order for him to choose death as the best punishment.

But Io was here to watch and hope the woman would be fine, even if she didnt know her that much. She took a seat, comfortably watching. She could only hope for the best. She wondered what her Queen would think, or even more, what she would she do about this.

(Okay with Dominance matches.)

IO BLACK

code x art

[[not actively hidden, but he's albino and passively blending with the snow/storm]]

Oh he hated this. The cold, the snow, the near-blinding quality of the storm itself. Several times, he'd tripped over his own paws or an unseen rock or divet in the ground, but trudged ahead following some strange sense of duty. Briefly, he wondered if this might have been some sort of test, but no, that wasn't at all realistic. There had been a truce, with clear consequences should it be broken, and this was only the natural conclusion of that.

Elio's sigh was drowned out and taken away by the wind as he squinted against the snow in the air as he reached the pit. After a brief hesitation, the boy lowered himself to the ground, to lie and wait and contemplate what life might be like if his father fell here today. He supposed the rest of his family would either arrive soon enough or had already hidden themselves around the area. Elio, on the other paw, would simply embrace his natural pale coloring and let the storm conceal him unless someone came close enough to notice he was there. Or tripped over him.

code by corvus

+10 Witness an event worthy of making history

-- pride status vague

---

OK, but: did it have to be snow? Toblerone yanked herself out of an icy hole, tidied her fur, and sighed. That voice alone would summon her for she hungered for the mischief on its melody, and any call for death would not be complete without her malingering in the rafters. But these two facts together created a compulsion that she resented. Nobody should summon her except by begging. Her presence should be a gift and not a given. It should be her. She walked with that bright and uplit smile that said she didn't care (and which anyone versed in Mean Girl behavior could tell was bullshit) that all the attention was on him and all the curses toward the weather were on him, and she admired the cruelty with which he presented the scene. Nobody could control the weather... but they could sharpen their claws and wait.

She decided her rise would be at high noon.

She couldn't see how many were yet here. A grubby assemblage. In the slump of the pit there was a lump, snow-coated. A dark pelt covered in snow and standing upon white. "Tell her to bring her brown pants!" she yelled and the wind took her voice and swirled it so it echoed into its echo both shrill and hoarse. Was that... was that her voice?

High noon. Low wind.

He'd known only bits and pieces of their deal, but it were enough that the call hadn't entirely surprised him. Aeistrios had condemned his sister to death when Cassandra challenge for his throne, and though at first Kvare had found little sense in the whole ordeal, the heavy reality of it now festered like a blight in the wound. He was thankful that it, at least, would take place in the Pit, which hadn't been too far a stroll from the Cove that he could not be there in a timely fashion.

As it were, he had beaten his sister, and the temptation to launch himself at the man before she could get here was grating, overwhelming. Kvare had nearly walked to the opposite end of the battlefield to assume Morrigan's position before he stopped himself just short. The Illyrian Queen were more than capable; it were a battle she invited, and one she'd given the blessings to her daughter to initiate. She would not so easily throw her life into the jaws of wolves if she did not believe she could pry herself from their teeth unscathed.

Instead, he turns, pivoting away from the center of the Pit and instead venturing upon one of its gently sloped sides. His gaze cast upon the dark form of the Andal King, his gaze narrowed, focused, unwilling to give way to his thoughts that festered beneath. Either Kvare Tollaire would lose a thorn in his side that night, or he would lose his final sister. Stalwart and strong against the wintry storm, the Caladan King waited with bated breath.

Art by Yumpy, table by cala

the cry is not one she expects, upon returning. saskia has scarcely been back in amaryllis for a night, making her way steadily across the countryside and towards home with a single-minded determination, when the call shrieks through the fury of the storm. her head lifts, folded ears twitching and jaw slackening in surprise. for a long moment, the yearling remains where she stands, chin angled towards the pit and thickly padded feet braced against the cold, cold ground. and then, tentatively, she turns.

she has to go. trepidation seizes her as she approaches, brows tight over her purple gaze - but as she gets closer and closer still, something... happens. her uncertain steps turn purposeful, body rolling with a grace she's not yet grown into, realistically. something guides her quite forcibly, allowing her claws to unsheathe, her head to drop low and jaws open. even her folded ears tighten to her skull, eyes narrowing, and her weight spreads gently across all four feet. it's both so foreign and so familiar that it makes her throat tighten, makes her heart hammer faster in her chest.

or - or it tries to. there's a feeling of something like panic, of fear. but her heart remains steady, thump, thump, thumping with a ceaseless, unhurried beat of a war drum.

what the fuck, saskia breathes, swallowing tightly as she struggles with the fear-but-not-fear that's battling within her. she's ever been a child of confliction, of strange deja vu and knowledge of things she should not know. but this is.... this is the first time it's taken her so bodily ( quite literally ) and the greyflood struggles with it, with this. but her steps don't falter, paws moving almost of their own accord as they propel her confidently through the storm.

when she nears the pit, that strange feeling continues and she picks a path easily, strolling through it as though she'd been here a thousand times. saskia knows - or... or she thinks she does - that she's never come to the pit. but she navigates goat trails and hidden stones with ease, pouring like water into the coliseum and pausing to take stock of what she finds.

hrægammar, her lips hiss. vultures - and the strange word has her shaking her head. she's not heard the language and the fact that she's speaking in tongues is enough to send her skin crawling. and, yet, her thick fur remains flat; her face impassive, a mask of cool, calm collection. she stands where she is, staring with a shockingly impassive expression even while, internally, she's rattling the bars and screaming. what the fuck was happening?

table by ferus & art by drifter

SEIFRIENRIOSA

Seifrienriosa, like usual, followed her mother's lead as they made way to the pits.

She wasn't sure why they didn't go straight for the Summit instead - why venture to a land so open, and being swarmed on by the elements? Luckily enough for her, the elements may help keep her concealed; though she lacked the amount of skill her mother had. Sucking in a breath, she keeps crouched as she does her best to block out the storm, and instead, focuses on keeping herself hidden.

She had a mission - rousing trouble before that wasn't going to do her well.

Overall, she wasn't too sure how she felt about her father and his antics. Ever since @Renfri had told her of how he favored Valtyr, was going to give him heir just because he was the first born son... she'd been more to herself and her sisters than anything. More to Renfri than anything. Loyal to the Saxe, of course, but the mantle was hers to claim.

It seemed her father was in the way of that - and all the sons he continued to pop out.

Settled down in her spot, she feels her frame shiver from the cold, jaw tense as she locks her gaze on the familiar plum colors, awaiting to see the opposing Queen; anxious for the victor.

seifri is attempting to hide.

code by flea, art by irish

The red giant made her way slowly towards the sound of the call from the Andal king. She had her own feelings on the purple bastard, and would have no love lost if she watched him collapse beneath Morrigan's jaws. Her eyes noted a few gathered already, and she smiled when she saw one she was far more interested in. @Etain stood near @Eisa and the Firnen chuckled as she approached her daughter, intending to knock her skull against Etain's shoulder before glancing towards the lioness on the other side. "I'm curious to see what he's going to do..." She had no doubts of the outcome - and hoped that Morrigan tore the lion to pieces. Lips peeled back slightly as she bared fangs towards the lion standing in the center of the ring. "I don't know where Wolfbron stands with him...but be alert, little love.. This is likely to get nasty." Especially when one or the other was felled in battle. She knew that should Morrigan fall - she would be making her way into the pit.. intending to use every ounce of skill she had unless someone else did.

code by Koi manip by Tabs art from unsplash

She was aware that this would come someday, but it still made a shiver go down her spine as she heard the summons rings out across the land. The Brook Queen was aware that this would likely be quite the event, and her skills would be needed to assist in taking down his followers. Paws carried her across the land, her pace steady and measured as she strode across the land. Her gaze raked over the Pit, spotting many within the edges of it already. The one that her gaze ended up resting on was the bastard himself. Lip curling, Cassandra shot him a deadly look before her duotoned gaze settled on her uncle.

Making her way to stand at his side, she would steady herself at his right side. Her defenses would be ready set, and her senses were on high alert for anyone to attack her. She knew her mere presence here was likely making her a target in general, but she needed to be here to support her mother. And she wanted to see that bastard’s death for herself. She had every reason to believe that her mother would reign victorious in this fight. Morrigan was a better warrior in every way, and she would not miss seeing her put the bastard into the ground.

Glancing at her uncle, Cassandra would speak quietly for his ears only. "You have the support of the Brook and my own personal support as family, and we fight those who stand with him and his pride, yes?" She said, flicking her tail as she spoke to @Kvare.

---

OOC Note: I am open to up to a major maim on her, but bear with me and PLEASE notify me if you start a fight with her. I’ve got a busy work schedule, but will do my best to reply in a timely manner to not default a fight at all. If you initiate a fight with her, PLEASE specify it in your discord tag!

actions. "speech."

Art & Table code by Zodiac

I put my armor on, show you how strong I am

Now that...that was interesting. So very interesting in fact. The pale lioness lifted her head as the call echoed across the lands. While she'd intended to finish her patrol, this certainly drew her attention far more. And so she left, silently, like a ghost.

Quick steps carried her towards the Pit and soon she found that quite a few had already begun to gather. For a moment she lingered apart from the gathering groups, emerald eyes observing her surroundings as she dragged her claws over stone. This was not a normal fight, but the scarred warrior queen was more than eager to see it. Her ears slowly fell against her head as she rose again. For a moment she circled, eyes darting around, seeking a potential target should this turn into something more.

But then her eyes fell on a familiar large form and a smirk tugged at the corner of her lips. Stalking past others, she came up on the other side of @Kvare, greeting him and @Cassandra with a quiet rumble. Though she didn't speak and simply stood, guarding her king's side.

---

+5 Observe a fight (Aeistrios vs Morrigan)
+5 Maintain your weapons (sharpen claws on stone)
+5 Learn a new fighting move (potentially)

code by flea, art by irish

In typical fashion, chaos is not hard found here. Kovirah is brought to the attention of a certain scrapple happening below their cozy little home on the peak. Preparing his claws with a coating of manicheel sap, readying himself for the worst at their doorstep.

And yet, the fight below is not what he truly expects.

Kovirah meanders quietly, featherlight against the dirt. It was the form of @Fissure that he finds just slightly below the mouth of their cavern, watching as another beckons forth a match. Not just any however, one to the death. Kovirah is reminded of the blood sports back home, how they'd thrown lives away for mere entertainment. This, was not so grand as said coliseum. It was a limestone out where the stench of battles old and new wafted from below. In silence he comes to stand just slightly behind their leader--who was draped in finery that the raven mane didn't quite understand--before looking down at the slowly gathering crowd.

"....such a waste" he mutters, though to no one in particular. He kept his head out of politics after all and left that to his betters.

+5 Observe a fight (Aeist vs. Morrigan)

code by daanyan, Art by Rabbit