OOC note: This fight is approved by Rabbit. Tin is safely assumed dead by this point as per Cala's wishes as well.

----
Life returned where it had nearly slipped away. War drums beat and it was as if they were the very reason for his existence, shocking his heart back in to a steadier cadence. The aftermath had nearly been the death of him, a numbness settling in that he could not possibly shake. An emptiness replaced the vibrancy that had once seeped in to his bones and so he truly began to show his age. While he had not stopped -- lingering rarely at the summit that he bore the banners of, travelling to visit allies (both of the plains and bluffs alike) -- there was an undeniable change.

Perhaps it was the way his skin sagged beneath his eyes, a sure sign of his exhaustion. Or the slight hitch to his step that spoke of a hundred battles fought and won, a dozen enemies defeated. Even more simply it was the dullness to his eyes, the matte appearance that spoke volumes of all that he had lost.

At the end he was alone, even surrounded by the masses of the summit. There was a notable space at his side, and though he had his children and the obvious strength of the bloodline he had begun he felt the icy cold of absence. His march from Illyria is haunted by their ghosts, the faces that lurk just out of reach, taunting him with the memory of love lost. Fiery passion and unbridled glory, possessive cruelty masquerading as love -- his first wife, the tragedy of Erna. Kindred spirits and unfathomable loyalty, friendship blossoming in to something so much deeper -- his warrior wife with the untamable heart, Slaine. Selfish need turned to gentleness, a soft hand to tame a blood-thirsty beast -- his last, his beloved Tinúviel. Secrets whispered in the deepest parts of him, common ground found where it had no right existing -- a name he dare not utter even in his mind, 'lest they learn of his guarded truth.

He had failed them all, in some way, and now he faced the reality that he could not save them. A reality that grew more poignant as he marched towards the borders of his home. When they draw near he calls for them all, his allies and friends alike, all of those who would come and support him in this final bid for redemption. There were many that might have scoffed at his ways -- his white son included -- but now is the time for all of his politicking to come to fruition.

Once he had imagined a very different life. A rule in which Luther had stood beside him, learning and growing, molded in to the honorable and worthy King that Alaric had sought to become. As much as bloodshed and brutality had marked his life he had found calm in his later years, a peace to be cherished as he aimed only to protect those most precious to him. From the very beginning he had only ever wanted a sanctuary in which to raise his children; if there is one thing he was certain he had achieved it was that. Until...

Well, there were always going to be monsters, weren't there?

Now his future was enmeshed with Luther in a vastly different way. For, as Alaric Starke crosses the border in to his tarnished Kingdom he calls for his son, a mighty bellow that is meant to be heard by them all. Blood pounding through his veins, warming him from nose to tail, igniting a fire in the old King that would change his summons in to something far more sinister.

For this was no social call. This was no meeting of blood.

Alaric Starke calls for his head.


Alaric vs @Luther ♔
for DEATH
0/7

code by scorpixia ♡︎ & corvus; art by xaronarts

Really, it seemed as if the casual movements and pace were actually working until a colossal white male appeared. He was gangly, and she was pretty sure he had to be younger than her- but still, if he intended to keep her here... her lips curled over her teeth, and she flexed her claws into the Mire's earth- ready to launch herself into him when @Emory appeared. Though her face relaxed, just slightly- her body remained tense as she glared daggers at the yearling- awaiting his retreat.

Only then would her gaze fix on Emory, letting the confusing emotions wash over her- as she considered him. He'd been her friend right.

"Are you going to stop me from leaving?" She asked quietly- a bit of her internal rage still stirring in her belly but she is hesitant to attack him. Hesitant to draw her claws on her friend. She doesn't know what to do. Should she attack him and then run? When she hears her father's arrival- here's Alaric call for Luther- she looks away from Emory towards him with a shaky breath, before looking back to the albino male.

What would happen now?

@Grimm

ART BY KIM, CODE BY LARS

His shadowy form moves in, body still healing from his fight within the Brook. Dark lips pull upwards as he takes in the scene yet his growls are quiet. He spies @Seraphiel, observing those that the male seeks to rescue. His daughter and her small cubs. He had known them to be his targets. The information shared to him by his grandmother Talisa. It appeared others were already trying to aid in their escapes. Eyes land on @Laurel and he calls out to her. This way, liten en. little one Seraphiel's grandcubs are so small. Still just babes. How despicable it was that adults would try and keep them barred here in this mud pit.

Asbjørn is open to fighting!

Art by Yumpy, Code by Minxy

Everything was happening so quickly but that was just how fighting happened. Ears pinned and eyes narrowed she hissed again as she had successfully smacked the other lioness. Tucking her chin over her throat protectively so it wasn’t wide open though at the moment it seemed that rather or not her throat was protected completely didn’t matter as the other lady used the nearly hundred or so pounds she had on her to her advantage. Being knocked backwards she snarled as she found her back against the wet swamp ground and found fangs in the right side of her neck by her shoulder. Attempting to wrap her front paws around the younger girl’s head she attempted to reach her underbelly with her hind feet and kick at her. She could feel pain running through her body and she didn’t like having her so close to her throat. At least she wasn’t another male trying to manhandle her by the scruff. Even so she wasn’t as young as she is once was and was getting tired real quick.

Arjana vs. @Aphrodite ♔
Dom Match
Round 3 of 3
Hits:

Rolling 7d20: 3 + 11 + 6 + 17 + 18 + 8 + 12

Dodges:

Rolling 5d20: 20 + 10 + 6 + 13 + 16

Luck:

Rolling 6d20: 5 + 11 + 8 + 10 + 20 + 16

code by shelby | art by irish

+10 Sneak into a pride or group without getting caught
+10 Remain undetected in a large thread (5+ characters)

Chaos was just a fact of life. Always had been, and he suspected it always would be. A rising and falling tide of peace and war, rhythmic in it's own way. Lucifer found he preferred to stay out of the direct line of fire, watching from the sidelines instead. His father had fought all his life and had the myriad scars to show for it, Lucifer didn't care to look like he'd been run over by several elephants by the time he reached his prime years. But curiosity remained an irresistible siren song, pulling him along at its whim - this tune had the steady beat of the war drum beneath it, and lured him away from the familiar depths of the jungle.

Along the way he smeared himself in mud to mimic the scent of the pride he knew lay ahead, and picked his careful way through the potentially treacherous land. He'd move stealthily between patches of cover until he found a concealed space beneath a large, rotted-out, log in which to conceal himself, just within the borders of the territory. The last challenge call he'd heard had been for someone's death, but he wasn't overly familiar with the politics and family relations of the mire, so did not understand it was a father calling for his own son's head.

-hiding-

assassin level 2 perk: able to fabricate pride scents (ecrosia)

assassin level 3 perk to remain hidden
1 is failure, 2 is success

Rolling 1d2: 2

code by corvus

Sleep had evaded him.

Day after day, night after night, Luther Rike had prepared for the moment the whole valley will seep into his land like the roaches they were, seeking to wreak havoc and destruction. To feast on his remains, if they could, with his dearest Vater at their helm and the Sigrun sympathizers at his sides.

To be the underdog was both bitter and sweet.

He enjoyed the very idea that Amaryllians thought him such a big threat to unite against him. A man and his handful of an army against the whole land. There was poetry in that whole ordeal. The underdog, the black sheep, had no chance of winning in their eyes… and yet that is what made him all the more desirable. A martyr. Such an idea brought amusement to the cruel King. He was far from a martyr, and yet the role was fun to play all the same.

He’d always liked the limelight.

When @Morrigan's voice rang through the land, his lips twisted in disgust. His mother would be turning in her grave if she knew who Alaric had allied with. He gathered his supporters quickly, hoping that the upkeep of the thorny borders would aid in fending at least some of the intruders. “Let everyone know my command - prisoners are our priority. Scar them good if they attempt to run.” he growled to one of his guards and messenger. “Trespassers must be maimed on sight. Go.” hatred burned across his youthful face, cold and unfiltered fury. He moved before the messenger disappeared into the shadows. He will be dealing with Alaric himself, no doubt the traitorous man was here already.

The Rike Tyrant moved through his land with a quick pace, crushing any roots and branches in his way. He arrived at a scene he was all too familiar with. The battle had begun, but Morrigan, along with the other wenches, was already interlocked in a fight. With Runa, out of all lions. Fool girl. Instead of picking an easier target, his idiot of a daughter had gone for the much older woman. She deserves all the wounds she will get. At least after that he doesn’t have to punish her again for disobeying his orders.

@Sersie was battling, too, despite her condition. He wondered if he would see the woman lacking one more limb afterward but walking despite that, or if he would have to bury her body here. Somehow Luther thought the first option more believable. I’m not surprised if she will walk and does a little jig on two legs. @Grimm and @Emory were standing head against head, evidently a spat for dominance over the prisoner @Odette. His eyes narrowed in on the yearlings, displeasure evident. What were they dilly-dallying for? This was no time for inner conflict. They were outnumbered.

@Xaphan was fighting @Ghyslaine, who bore some familiarity. She had been Alaric’s ally since Luther was born, or perhaps even before that. He was not surprised to see Lorien here, although he was shocked not to find Violarum tangled in battle. Andal was here, too, marked by the impish @Léonie who was aiding his prisoner's escape. He took a step towards her, lip peeling in irritation, but his attention was stolen before he could charge her way and deliver his talons into her striped Miroslav flesh.

@Alaric's contemptuous voice finally echoed through what had once been his kingdom. No longer, for Luther had seated himself on the Starke throne, banishing his so-called family from the Mire. He wondered how much pain Alaric felt now under the pressure of his failures. How much did it hurt to walk the Mire and no longer call himself its sole ruler? How much did it hurt for years and years of hard work to go down the drain so easily? It was all his fault – he had chosen the wrong side, crowned the wrong head, and discarded his firstborn. His schemes had failed. And now he suffers the consequences. Today Luther will put an end to the miserable old man’s life. Today he will put his head on a spike for all to know – coming here would be the last thing they do. If he could, he would kill Alaric slowly. Painfully. His only regret was that he couldn’t snuff out the life of Tinuviel in front of the old Starke lion’s gaze. The woman had been a thorn in his side for too long, but the Mire had killed her in his stead. Ironic, and yet it had been the second-best thing.

— fight begins here —

Luther cares little about masking his approach. Instead, he is brazen, a cruel, cocky smile of twisted excitement manifesting across his dark lips. It grew with every step he took, with every moment he trotted in a mild jog until he was charging at full speed, heading straight for the betrayer. He attempted to approach Alaric from his right side, trying to crash the brunt of his jutted shoulder into the older man’s shoulder. Simultaneously his jaws attempted to wrap tightly around the side of Alaric’s neck.

Luther vs. @Alaric
for Death
Round 1 / 7
Hits:

Rolling 7d20: 15 + 10 + 18 + 6 + 20 + 16 + 13

Dodges:

Rolling 4d20: 9 + 17 + 3 + 16

Luck:

Rolling 5d20: 11 + 10 + 5 + 18 + 1

Neeha Tollaire

War

Kvare had spoken the dreadful words at her sister's crowning as heir, at Yuna's rise to sovereign. And now, now the princess was staring into the maw of a beast. Dark curled roots and trunks for teeth and treacherous mud lining its maw. The yearling found the mire to be dark and dull compared to her coastside home. But it also proved useful, the mud and floral were plentiful. The strong stench of the swamps was so much easier to work into her fur than the dry sands of the beach. If only she'd known more of the flora that grew around her. Its poisons, then again wouldn't that also make her weapons less useful? An antidote for a poison known was always easier to make than one for something you didn't.

As Neeha rose from a puddle of mud, her paler undersides stained a darker brown, she turned to the plant left on a dry spot of land. Giant hogweed, carefully collected from the beach and brought along to the Mire. She hadn't known if she would use it, but she'd brought it, and when the echoing call of the summit queen reached her Neeha stood quietly for a moment.

Time had run out, but for who? Friend or foe? Time could and would tell, it always did. The yearling cut the stem of the plant open, sap seeping to the surface. She meticulously coats every front claw, being careful not to work the sap too high up along the obsidian blades. It would be a painful surprise should she get stuck in a fight but none lethal. With that she was ready, the sandy and mud-colored lioness set into motion. Keeping to the darker shades of the swampy forest she made her way towards the battlefields, crossing the strongly scented border of the mire with little hesitation. This was who she wanted to be, this was what she could do to help the cove, to prove herself as a Tollaire. For she was no queen like her sister or mother, no fighter like her father or brothers. She was a shadow, a lingering set of eyes and ears with poisoned claws and sharp teeth. Though today she did not intend to use them, not unless her hand was forced.

So as the sounds of combat grew louder she'd attempt to slip into the shadows, staying low to the ground and among foliage. Lavender eyes slowly swept over the lions, trying to make sense of what she saw. To separate ally from enemy. Prisoner from jailor.

So many fights were already underway. Three lions, one dark lioness and a brown lioness were fighting against a colorful pink lioness. Two against one though the black one seemed to be trying to run more so than fight. A prisoner Neeha assumed as her eyes shifted to the next pair.

A wheat-colored three-legged lioness was fighting a colossal maroon lion. Her eyes moved on, though snapped to the sight of a young brown cub trying to escape a large lioness. Neeha can feel her muscles tense watching the unfair fight beginning but some of the tension melts as a colossal maroon lioness seems to come to his aid.

A red lioness and a plum lioness were fighting and a bluish lioness was stopped by a white yearling before another white lion stepped in. Neeha watched them until the angry roar and unknown words drew her attention. A grey yearling is charging at the summit queen. Neeha watched them surprised by the viciousness of the yearling. Two other fights start. A cub tries to escape from an adult before another steps in to help the cub. And a pair of adults fighting. But Neeha's attention is fully grasped by the call of an old man.

This call she'd heard once before. When the summit queen fought and died. When death had been cheated by the woman and her allies. Neeha's body stiffened her folded ears rotating forward and lavender eyes watched the older lion. Death was coming, death would claim someone today. But would death keep them?

Then Luther arrived, the white high sovereign was unknown to her. But Neeha had no doubt about who he was as he engaged the older man in a fight. He was their enemy, the one who had caused war to rise, to threaten those around her. Even if the cove had nothing to do with the cause of this war, Kvare had said war was coming and that the cove would aid their allies. Her family would be in the line of fire and this white lion was the cause. The enemy, a danger and a threat to those the cove princess loved. If he didn't fall today something would have to be done, anything to keep danger from ever reaching the cove, from reaching her family.

The cove princess watched, still held low to the ground among foliage and mud. Her coat was stained by mud and plant matter her scent obscured by the swamp itself. Her claws were coated in poison and carefully held out of her paws above the ground to not ruin their painful coating. Neeha's eyes were locked on the death match but her ears twitched listening to her surroundings.

Death would come, death would take him. It would be the only way to keep those whom she loved safe.

Neeha is trying to hide

August Y11 || Caladan Cove || Caladan Cove Royalty || 1 year
*Neeha's claws are coated in the sap of Gaint hogweed. Exposure to the sap can cause skin irritation, skin sensitivity to sunlight, rashes, and blistering.

Potential xp
Assassin
+10 Sneak into another pride's territory without getting caught
+10 Successfully poison someone (non-lethal)
+10 Successfully stay hidden for the duration of a thread
+5 Practice speed or stealth
+5 Practice covering your scent

Beatnik
+10 Witness an event worthy of making history (death match between Luther and Alaric)

code by corvus, Art by Irish

From the second that they had issued their time to go, Talisa had been on the move. She moved along from the Summit to the Mire (one of her least favorite places actually) but she took her time to breach the area around it. Instead, she focused on looking to the outskirts to see if anyone was fleeing the general madness. It was something that she would have initially told to her mates as she did not want them to worry too much about her not being there.

At least two of them had tried to convince her to stay in the Summit where she was safe and well cared for but she had been the one to rally their allies. Talisa had been the one to request their presence and to help in this movement and it would be sinfully wrong to not participate. Just as she knew that @Morrigan would not send her pride to fight her battle, Talisa would not do it either even if she was not a trained one.

Once she didn't see anyone try to leave whether by fleeing or chasing, Talisa moved into the borders but not without giving a rallying call to anyone who needed the extra call to arms. Moving into the borders as she began to look around, eyeing her mates first before looking to the madness. Pacing a good bit in an effort to block a portion of the exit; not from the escapees but to block the exit when they did leave so that whoever attempted to chase them might rethink their choices.

While the Sovereign of the Summit was no fighter, she was a Mother first and foremost. To harbor innocent children under the premise of torture, Talisa Valour would not stand for such cruelty and would do everything that she could to fight for the young.

Open to a Dom/Minor Maim
— if interested in Major, please DM me first!

ART • CODE

It was time.

Isla had been awaiting the call, feeling anxious and unable to truly calm her nerves. The moment she heard it she was on the move, letting out a call of her own to the few members that Scilla had to inform them that she were departing and to hang back - just in case help was needed elsewhere. The Scillan Queen wouldn't drag ones that had no idea what was happening into the fold; she wasn't a leader who led her pride to a slaughter. @Cassandra was the only one she knew may have followed, and it would be welcomed company if she did.

The march from the Lagoon to the Mire was made a quick one, the wildcat moving swiftly through Amaryllis. She doesn't stop when she comes across their borders, pushing past and making her way to where the cacophony was coming from. Dual colored eyes kept her alert, and as she neared she spotted both @Morrigan and @Talisa, but not before pausing for a moment as she heard a rallying death cry echo out into the stale air.

Isla moves towards the latter, giving Talisa a gentle bump to tell her she were right beside her and ready to defend where needed. As she glanced around she would try to decipher who needed help, tail lashing behind her as her body readied itself for an attack at any given moment. There would be much blood spilled here today, perhaps even a life, and the Queen knew she needed to be alert at all times.

KNEEL BEFORE ME

CODE / ART BY RABBIT

@Luther ♔ vs. @Alaric FOR Death
— FIGHT TIMERS PAUSED —

This fight and its timers are currently paused. All other posting can continue to happen in this thread without issue.

Another post will be made to signal the unpausing of the fight timers, at which time the fight can continue.