louve's attack's strike true but it is not enough to slow her mother. amara has fought and bled for the bluffs time and time again, and this was no different, nevermind that it was her own flesh and blood that came for it. this day was inevitable and yet she would never want to see her mother merely hand the bluffs over; louve expected a vicious fight and in that amara does not disappoint.

as soon as louve's paw returned to the ground her mother was reaching for it, claws fully extended. she strikes with both, one towards the back of her neck and the other towards her left leg. it is an attack meant to deter her from her grip, louve knows, and finally she relinquishes it. finally, as amara's left claws seek to hook around the back of her neck, louve lets go. just in time to jerk her head back, to attempt to avoid the worst of the damage; it is just enough to avoid those claws from digging in deep, but she is not invincible. amara's claws slice deep down the side of her neck and threaten the stability of her leg (slicing flesh there, too) and the sovereign snarls her pain and displeasure.

but she sees her opening. amara, rising on only her back legs, is left less balanced than she would be if she stood on all fours. louve wastes no time in gathering herself, lunging forward, attempting to slam her chest against her mother's. pressing forward relentlessly, hoping to see the long-ruling queen knocked to the ground. at the same time her bloodied teeth flash, snapping shut near amara's face. it is more a threat display than anything, though if those teeth happen to snag skin during their tussle then all the better...

louve vs. @Amara
for wolfbron bluffs
four of five

Hits:

Rolling 7d20: 16 + 13 + 17 + 2 + 10 + 9 + 7

Dodges:

Rolling 5d20: 9 + 15 + 8 + 4 + 7

Luck:

Rolling 5d20: 20 + 3 + 19 + 8 + 2

*+1 hit from pride tier

ART BY DESSXLY, CODE BY LARS, MODIFIED BY GUNNER

It is to see if our Matriarch is fit to rule as High Sovereign, boy

At the man's words Valère's eyes grow wide, even more so at @Apollinaire's smiling face. Was he excited? Should Val be? Was fighting between women supposed to make one excited? They were strong so of course it was marvelous but to smile? His confusion was broken both by the arrival of his pink-coated brother who posed his own question. But also the words of @Lazare.

"Valère Dieudonné et c'est @Roussel Dieudonné, mon frère" Valère Dieudonné and this is Roussel Dieudonné, my brother. he introduced himself and his brother dipping his head to the woman as he spoke his own name. As she asks about the herbs Valère's eyes drop to the sticks at his paws. The somewhat dried leaves suddenly don't feel good enough anymore. This was not just a trespasser or some skirmish. It was a fight between the strongest and grandest of their women. But he also knew better than to lie, especially to a woman. "C'est Senna, une plante utilisée pour couvrir les blessures pour les aider à guérir" It's Senna, a plant used to cover wounds to help them heal. he explains hoping she won't be angry at him. Then again he hadn't really done anything wrong, had he? He wasn't a healer but he was trying to help and to learn how to be one.

Potential xp
Barbarian
+5 Observe a fight (Louve vs Amara)

Medic
+5 Attend a spar or challenge to assess the wounds
+5 Teach herbology trivia to someone
+5 Teach someone basic wound care

code by corvus, art by wolfsi

Late, but there all the same, Donatien slinks from the shadows he had been lurking in as the fight begins to draw to a close - both women, vicious in their own right, battle for the crown. As much as the red prince loves both women, green eyes are focused on Louve - his matriarch, his mother, his savior - in anticipation of her win.

This battle is friendly - as much as such a thing can be in a nest of cannibals - but there is still tension running like electricity through Donatien’s body. Concern is not an emotion that sits well in the prince’s gut; it roils like snakes, twisting and tormenting him, making it near impossible to sit still and watch. Yet he does, obedient to the ways of their family, waiting for the outcome of this day. Whatever it is, he doubts anything will be the same.

coded by flea + image by rabbit

she sees the gathering of them all, a cluster of her kin on the opposite side of the rocky arena. manon was not one to revel in isolation and so the girl brings herself to her feet and starts towrads @Faustine, @Lazare, and @Apollinaire. "papa, quand puis-je me battre comme ça?" papa, when can i fight like that? it is a question that mixes her very dieudonné nature with the eagerness of a child. of course, the little hellion was still put off at being dragged from the mire war like some common rat that had infested their caches. manon settles to watch her mother continue her brawl, aiming to sit between @Apollinaire's forelegs, the bloody red of her eyes focused on her mother surging forward to try and collide with amara. an ear flicks at @Régine's words, and manon's head swivels for but a moment. "stupide, maman ne sera pas battue." foolish, mama will not be beat. she says it simply, almost as if telling her pint-sized aunt that the sky was blue. for manon, it was fact, one of the undeniable truths of the world - louve dieudonné did not lose.

coded by flea + background credit: TLK

It's not the promise of bloodshed or an interest in politics that brings the mire princess to the challenge. Though allies are welcome to attend, this sort of petty power squabble is normally something Ianthe would avoid. It's beneath her.
She hadn't wanted to see her own brothers tear into each other, there's even less desire to watch the same of two strangers - and yet.

Mottled paws wind their way through the unfamiliar path towards Wolfbron Bluffs. The landscape is uneven and winding, Ianthe thinks she would have gotten lost if not for the clear sound of combat, the heady scent of blood, that marks the trail towards the battleground.

By the time she finds it, the fight seems to be well underway. Two lionesses grapple in the blood-rusted earth, but Ianthe isn't interested in them. Her eyes slide off them and into the crowded spectators, looking for a specific wolfbron lion.
It takes a moment, but she eventually finds him, his dark red pelt a stark contrast to the mostly blacks and grays of his surrounding pride mates.

It makes her nervous, to walk forward and put herself at his side, but she didn't come all this way just to turn-tail at the sight of him. Poising herself with a confidence she has not earned, Ianthe brushes up against the male's side before sitting in the empty space beside him.

@Donatien

_{BG — ART — CODE}

Somewhere in the middle of the fight, her body started to forget who it was that she was fighting though her mind held on. This wasn't a stranger or an enemy but her own daughter who was trying to prove her worth, to show not only to Amara but also to the family and island that she was ready to lead them fully. Amara knew that the position of head of the family and the pride would always be a hard one to hold. There was some wisdom in having to two positions separated but Amara had indeed held her own time and time again. She had given Louve a spot to grow, learn, and take the position that she held now. There was little reason not to at least allow Louve the chance to try for the rank. Even more so since none of her other cubs showed much desire to lead the family or the pride.

Her claws slice into the flesh of Louve's neck causing the bite to finally come free from her and blood to rush forward. It was both a flood of relief and pain. Her claws rip open the flesh along Louve's leg and Amara hopes for a moment it might slow her daughter down a little but that doesn't seem to be the case as she pushes forward and Amara feels herself becoming unbalanced but pushes herself into her daughter's body, lifting up and shuffling to keep her balance for the moment. She attempts to wrap Louve in a "hug" with her claws attempting to claw into her shoulders on both sides. Louve's snapping jaws land along her neck, pulling more blood from the High Sovereign. You fight well. She whispers to her daughter in their closer position. Words are not something she normally spares in fights but for Louve, she would.

Amara vs. @Louve ♔
for Wolfbron Bluffs
4/5

Hits:

Rolling 7d20: 4 + 9 + 17 + 2 + 13 + 14 + 15

Dodges:

Rolling 6d20: 18 + 4 + 10 + 3 + 13 + 1

Luck:

Rolling 5d20: 11 + 1 + 3 + 18 + 14

_{BG — ART — CODE}

It was @Faustine who provided the answer. "I see," interesting, so much more civilized than the tactic of invasion and conquest or mutiny. Then came @Lazare, who earned a small and friendly smile as she joined them, followed then by a boy he did not know (@Valère) who earned a glance, and an eager-seeming @Apollinaire.

With the question of 'why' settled, Sébastien would find himself content to sit patiently and watch, his gaze only straying upon the initial appearance of those who had taken Firnen. A move he still did not understand, as they seemed to be family to those of the bluffs, and Firnen - to his knowledge - had been an ally. Perhaps he was overthinking things, though, and it was not as complicated as he was making it out to be. Perhaps it had simply been a matter of one group acting without full information. Either way, Wolfbron had not seemed to lose an ally in the shift, and Sébastien had no personal connections to whoever had been ousted. So he'd call it less a win and more a...neutral happening.

code by corvus

shockingly amara does not abandon her raised position. instead her mother skitters back, attempting to maintain her hold on her daughter, and louve almost wants to scoff. it is, in her mind, a rookie mistake.

so while amara's claws bite in to her shoulders (both forelegs now well off the ground) louve lunges forward again. slamming hard against her mother's chest, ignoring the obvious target of her underbelly in favor of an almost desperate need to knock her down.

the bloodlust has her well in it's grasp, and as her teeth graze her mother's neck she drops her head slightly, both to aid her forward motion and to aim her teeth at the point of her mother's shoulder. even as she shoves forward she attempts to dig in to the flesh, there, hoping to cause her mother to instinctively recoil, to unbalance herself even more... she is deaf to amara's words, too focused on her need to win.

louve vs. @Amara
for wolfbron bluffs
five of five

Hits:

Rolling 7d20: 14 + 11 + 5 + 17 + 12 + 16 + 20

Dodges:

Rolling 5d20: 8 + 20 + 6 + 17 + 5

Luck:

Rolling 5d20: 14 + 1 + 13 + 10 + 8

*+1 hit from pride tier

I am not a woman, I'm a god

code x art

Her claws hook into her daughter's flesh and Amara is as close with her as she had been in a long time. The pair were friendly but nothing like she saw from some other families. She had done her best to make sure that her cubs were able to face the harsh world without needing her there every step of the way. She had done well. Louve's thrusts into her again and her legs strain under the weight of both of them for a moment before they give out and Amara falls backward. A smirk plays on her features even as Louve's teeth settle into her shoulder. Their blood mixed together in the red dust under them. Amara's back legs pull up close to her and she attempts to rabbit kick her back claws into Louve's underside as she comes down to the ground.

Amara vs. @Louve ♔
for Wolfbron Bluffs
5/5

Hits:

Rolling 7d20: 15 + 12 + 2 + 3 + 16 + 8 + 13

Dodges:

Rolling 6d20: 11 + 17 + 1 + 6 + 19 + 3

Luck:

Rolling 5d20: 15 + 10 + 1 + 12 + 9

_{BG — ART — CODE}

WE'RE BORN INTO THE GRAVE

He darkens the doorstep of Wolfbron, the roll of receding mist and dust peeled back from his heels. From the shadow of towering red rock he drew, wolven and thistle-burred, on the trail of @Léontine and Ludivine. His muscles rippled beneath the soft touch of a greying winter day – silvery and ruddy, the mechanic coiling of taut sinew and marred flesh twitched with an acrimonious remembrance. An irony never lost on him: the inescapable drive to escape the Dieudonne and the blasphemous workings of his wretched heart that only brought them closer.

But he is not their hound, not pulled to heel at his mate’s beck like on the soft phantom-tug of a loathsome, heavy chain. He arrives in the accordance of his own curiosities into the den of cannibals and their thriving violence… though as ever, Ludivine’s side is more comfortable than any pile of bones and furs.

Interest is piqued at the call of a crown – once more the Wolfbron fray, the forever shifting of power beneath the adamant rule of Amara. And not just that, but the opportune succession of Louve.

The faces that surround the ring are littered with those familiar and unfamiliar, and those whose vague familiarity hint of that bloodline. Children, that – he recalled a few of them as nameless wanderers to memory, but their descendance is unquestionable. They all whisper and mumble amongst themselves, their eyes plastered to their mamans and grandmere, their immersive touches of french filtered through the curling wisps of bated steam. His gaze hitched momentarily on a face more recent – the young, engrossed expression of Etain on the sidelines, the child displaced by their hold on Firnen.

He looked briefly through the crowd once more to check if others hid among them, hawkish and hungry, but drew pleasantly to the unoccupied side of @Ludivine to take his seat. His muscles remained tense as he watched, his hind legs coiled beneath him, lulled by the heady scent of iron and the habit of rising tempers in engagements such as these. Particularly, he had not forgotten the displays of disrespect in the acquisition of Firnen, and while the air between the prides had been reportedly smoothed it was rare for him to take chances.

Silently, he bid for Louve's triumph.