winter games, y11

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NPC Dice Rolls for Trade Competition

Because of an uneven number of characters in this trade competition match-up, some characters were assigned an NPC for their pairing. The following dice rolls are to be used as the baseline for determining if your character wins or loses their match-up – reminder: the character that rolls the number out of each pair wins.

If you have been matched with an NPC, feel free to PP them as desired in your own reply. Make sure to include your own dice roll ([*roll=1d20]) at the bottom of your post. Failure to post in time will result in disqualification from the competition and the next round of match-ups.

NPC 1 vs @Aspen:

Rolling 1d20: 3

when they are broken apart again, aspen stumbles backwards. "nice job." he mutters to his opponent, chest heaving for breath. it had felt neck and neck until almost the very end, when aspen had managed to inch ahead and win somehow. now, the boy stares down who is supposed to be his last opponent with narrowed eyes. if he had come this far, then clearly there was a good chance he could win this round too. they are quickly sent off to wrestle one last time and aspen is quick to throw himself at his last opponent with a hopeful wiggle of his little tush.

Rolling 1d20: 14

again, the dieudonné knight prevails against lesser foes with heavy impact and an unrelenting clasp of rabid tooth and nail. even so, her target’s brooding silence were enough to vaguely appease; and thus, does she spare a lingering, critical glance to the younger boy before seeking to wordlessly disengage. inherent arrogance nullifies the would-be high of consecutive triumph — and briefly, does her roving stare scour the outskirts for her masked sœur as their elder ringleader extends her meaningless affirmations. do you see this means nothing to me?

conclusive speech and pairings find the phantom one of four remaining contestants, and her gaze soon hones in upon her chosen adversary with obvious scrutiny. @Rowlin (much like her predecessor) were an infantile, unassuming creature — and one cyrène endeavored to overpower, all the same. without forewarning, she jousts forth to meet the girl: outwardly indifferent despite her underlying, ruinous intent.


cyrène vs. rowlin
for
cub wrestling competition
round four

lucky number:

Rolling 1d20: 10

ART & CODE

Damn, he'd lost. It was disappointing, since he'd hoped he'd be able to go all the way in this competition unlike the previous one. He'd get over that disappointment eventually and remind himself that he'd gotten very far regardless of the fact that he'd lost in the end, but now wasn't eventually.

He had no other choice but to head home, though, because there wasn't anything else for him to do. So he turned to head back the way he had come, hoping he didn't get lost along the way because then his mother would really be disappointed in him.

-exit temero-

ART BY DRIFTY, CODE BY CORVUS

Rowlin wasnt really liking to go again into another westling. She came here just for some fun, but now it was beyond that. But after she abandoned her last opponent, she gave them a bow. She was yet again forced to fight, even if she didnt want to. But alas, this was her last one, as she faced the still-colored cub she didnt understand what she said, but didnt matter. She decided to do as she always did: speak with her actions when words werent a thing.

The black-haired lioness then faced her new fight and once more went into exchanging soft blows with the fellow cub.

Rolling 1d20: 9

winter games, y11

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cub wrestling competition

as the finalists lurched into their final wrestling matches with one another, the teenager watched excitedly on the sidelines of it all. Her gaze was thoughtful yet filled with intent, making sure that they were not too rough with each other, especially as things neared the end of the competition and fatigue had likely begun to set in for them all. “good job, all OF YOU!” the referee proclaimed when it all came to an end, rolling back her shoulders and puffing her chest proudly, before continuing on.

“you guys all proved yourselves today and showed us what you were capable of. Having said that, I have made a decision –” she hummed, pausing for a long, dramatic moment before twisting her face and attention fully onto @Aspen and @Cyrène, whilst wagging a wayward paw in their directions. “CONGRATULATIONS - you two are officially the wrestlings CHAMPIONs! The strongest and toughest in all of Amaryllis!” and there was no question about the fact that they had earned it. “THANKS EVeryone, you guys really impressed me. I’ll have your escorts take you all back home when you’re ready, so group up with your pride-mates or family for the trip, alright?” though the instructions were given clearly and she hoped that they would all oblige without question, the speckled would opt to wait for them all to begin following the primates’ leads before she herself would disperse from the area. It was the responsible thing to do, after all - and she didn’t want any stragglers getting left behind. exit.




final results & instructions

winners: @Aspen and @Cyrène

dq’d: npc 1, @Rowlin

@Aspen and @Cyrène have won the official cub competition, and can claim “+3 - Be one of the last ones standing in a posted competition (win the final round match-up)” from this thread! Congratulations!

Feel free to exit, as the NPC will not be posting again. Thank you all for participating!

fire melds with ice as the finalists collide, but it were the ice that proves most unrelenting, most formidable in the face of adversity. a fleeting sense of satisfaction, left to graze her ego as @Rowlin succumbs to defeat: a pool of ruddy flesh at greater paws. still, the dieudonné regards her fallen opponent with little more than a dismissive glance; and still, she strives to wordlessly detach herself from the fray with a small side-step. an expectant gaze searches for her (presumed) next and final target – for @Aspen – and yet, their elder provacateur were only keen upon denying them of their fated match.

— and suddenly, does the nothing cyrène felt sour to a bitter, overwhelming disappointment. for a shared trophy of gold would only tarnish to silver, and silver were a consolation cyrène would sooner rebuff with scornful, ungracious hands.

triumph meant nothing, but loss — loss were everything.

wild eyes brand the boy with a target upon his spine; however, the quick ushering of their guides forces postponement. and though the urge for retribution burns hot within her poisoned psyche, the dieudonné relents with the contemptuous twitch of her upper lip. hesitant, prowling stride brings her to @Delphine in preparation for the journey home – a nasty grin, creeping across her features as she makes to reunite with her sœur. “partant à la chasse?” up for a hunt? she croons, gesturing to her co-victor with trailing eyes. and though the offer were facetious – a show of underlying, malevolent intent – deep-seated hunger still sears beneath what composure she’d retained.

he, too, would bow — just as easily as the others.

-- exeunt cyrène

ART & CODE

she loses and it's not entirely unforeseen. sorin has never been the best amongst her siblings when it came to wrestling. the girl takes a step back, settling on her haunches silently to watch as @Isildur launches into another bout. sorin's tri-colored gaze remains clear for most of the bouts, focusing only briefly on @Dalila and @Nyoka, before all of the children are ushered out by their guides. "demon of white brings fallen might," a gasp and a small shudder as the words seem to jerk through her tiny body. "so starts blood's plight and out will go a light." with the incessant nudge of one of the guides at her flank, the girl turns as if in a daze and starts off towards home, brother momentarily forgotten.

exit sorin

the blind gnashing of teeth find purchase upon his unsuspecting forelimb; and though lyra feels as if she were a crocodile, donning the flesh of a mere cub, reality does not paint her in quite such ferocious lighting. instead, her opponent’s resistance forces the quick release of her bite as she flinches away from his touch with a chorus of panicked squeals. but as retaliation turns to reassurance, and her loss becomes more apparent, so do helpless squeaks turn to hearty chuckles that communicate of her delight. clearly, there were no hard feelings she’d harbor towards @Temero, and the boop! she strives to press to his snout with her dangling toes only stresses of it.

with a quick shake to rid her coat of debris, lyra disengages from the fray to claim a spot upon the sidelines. @Aspen were a perseverant contender who earns more than her fair share of cheering from the trickling stands — quickly followed by each of the mire princesses, and all of the other strange cubs. but none of their peers held a candle to her brother; and as their overseer announces his victory, so does the sunspot erupt from her vantage point with a bounding stride. “aspen is best! aspen is best!” she chants with a prideful beam, seeking to trot a semi-circle around him. but lyra’s attention were a fleeting thing, and soon, does she nod towards home with the hint of a devious smirk. “but not at racing,” she goads, sprinting off toward the plains without further warning.

-- exeunt lyra

Victory, even though it was not her own, was delicious. Each movement of her dear soeur’s figure was watched with intense, deep-seeded focus, lips curling instinctively at claws and fangs being brandished against her by this lot of would-be usurpers. But no, of course – of course @Cyrène would win, the crown falling upon her perfectly poised head, shimmering for the world to see. He wasn’t so much as regarded by the Dieudonne bystander — for he was a technicality, if nothing else. success belonged to Delphine’s littermate and her littermate alone, no matter what joyous, “everybody-wins” tone their referee had opted to put on.

Humiliated (privately, of course) due to the sting of her own loss, the vampress would opt to say little else as the events concluded, simply watching as the crowd began to shift and was ushered promptly back in the direction of home. Cyrene’s approach was the only one intentionally noted, head craning in her direction as a spark found its way into the edges of her gaze. “Après vous,” after you, she crooned in tantalizing fashion, tongue running across the edges of her lips as she would be quick to follow suit of their victor. exit.

_{ART — CODE}