now be still, i'm the judge
poisoned by a serpent's touch

fledgling dieudonné — and she wears the ticking of scabbed lacerations as if they were a testament of unfathomable conquest. but their victory had not been her own; and though she were newly-consecrated in the venerable name of ma famille, the shared accolade were not nearly enough to whet her ever-growing appetite. non; the budding bleue were insatiable, and the greed borne unto her were too compelling a master to dismiss with practiced restraint. restraint she’d yet to acquire in all her youthful glory, and restraint she’d not yet covet in the first place. a wildfire: untamed and unforgiving as she seeks to blaze through their peninsula.

gentle were the dusting of winter’s first snow. each dancing flake, too dignified for the vile ruins of the colosseum she treads upon with cautious step. the scent of rot and ruin lay heavy, here: embedded in the pulpit of center-stage and in the spectating faces of surrounding rock. and though it were forbidding with an unspoken promise of bloodlettings to come, cyrène had never felt at home in a land, so foreign.

table by ryuu

TRIGGER WARNING !!
This content might touch on topics that are sensitive or triggering for some readers.

Frequent mentions of Cannibalism, Morbid Thoughts, Blood, Violence

The crimson, a river of life and death, a symphony of violence that played out on the battlefield. Miaran reveled in the chaos, in the primal dance of predator and prey. The scent of blood, like a siren's call, beckoned her forward, driving her to seek out the next taste of iron on her tongue. All that matters is the intoxicating yearning for blood, the taste of iron and copper on her tongue, the primal satisfaction of sinking her teeth into warm flesh. Miaran is consumed by a hunger that can never truly be sated.

Her heart thundered in her chest as she faced her next challenger, a yearling who dared to stand here. But there was a flicker of recognition in the air, a connection to a past encounter. Wolfbron. The pride name sent a shiver down her spine, igniting a fire in her jewel-toned eyes. With a feral grin, Miaran's very essence dripped with malice and desire. Her body, a canvas of scars and wounds, bore witness to her insatiable thirst for battle. She moved with predatory grace, her every movement a promise of violence and bloodshed.

"Jeune Wolfbron," Young Wolfbron, she purred, the words dripping with venom. Voulez-vous saigner ce soir? Would you like to bleed tonight? The challenge hung in the air like a taunt, a battle cry that echoed through the darkness. Miaran was ready, hungry for the taste of victory, for the intoxicating rush of the hunt. Tonight, the crimson would flow once more, painting the world in shades of red.


@Cyrène

Please, father, have mercy
God has mercy, I don't

table code by scorpixia ♡︎, gradient code by daanyen, image by celeste

now be still, i'm the judge
poisoned by a serpent's touch

something wicked this way comes, and her pupils drift to behold its feral entity with an air of forced indifference. still, a contemplative brow hikes upon her forehead as she works to survey @Miaran with a critical stare: dwelling upon the markers of experience that swathed her elder form. gangly and under-developed though the yearling were by comparison, cyrène were undaunted by the challenge posed; and with a single, fluid motion, she pirouettes in an effort to better face her would-be opponent. however determined she were – however eager – she hesitates only as the familiar tongue of her famille chimes through the reigning quiet of their arena.

she frowns, but only just. a fracture in her apathetic pretense – spurred by great confusion – and for a moment with the breadth of an eternity, she considers the woman before her. paranoia grips at her psyche as she second-guesses miaran’s purpose, her drive (were this a lesser-known test of the dieudonné, commandeered by their matriarch?) — and her gaze hardens with contempt while her lips purse. “dieudonné?” she pries, tail unfurling to whip erratically at her ankles: a testament to budding impatience, to frustration.

— no matter. the ashen gladiator would fell or fall, all the same.

only a deadly silence prefaces the intended onslaught of the yearling bleue. nimbly, she surges toward her opponent in an attempt to forcefully collide, keen upon using the jutted point of her left shoulder blade as a hopeful point-of-contact with miaran’s central chest. simultaneously, the gape of her jaws vies for purchase with the base of her adversary’s right-sided neck: slavering and wholly ravenous. if this were to be her bloodletting, after all – another test of the dieudonné might – cyrène were determined to dish as much as she would surely take.


cyrène vs. miaran
for
dominance
one of three

hits:

Rolling 3d20: 5 + 18 + 1

dodge:

Rolling 5d20: 12 + 8 + 14 + 6 + 2

luck:

Rolling 5d20: 4 + 5 + 17 + 16 + 1

table by ryuu

TRIGGER WARNING !!
This content might touch on topics that are sensitive or triggering for some readers.

Frequent mentions of Cannibalism, Morbid Thoughts, Blood, Violence

The question that pierced her heart like a dagger received a cold, crushing response. "Non." Miaran felt her chest tighten at the denial, a sharp pang of longing for a connection she had always yearned for but never truly had. She may not have hailed from the illustrious lineage of the Dieudonné, but her own Mob held traditions and beliefs just as sacred and profound.

The very mention of the Dieudonné had once been nothing more than a distant, fantastical tale to Miaran, a story whispered in the shadows of her past. Yet now, standing face to face with one of them, the reality of their existence hit her like a wave crashing on the shore. It was a surreal moment, a meeting of worlds she never thought possible.

As the tension crackled in the air, Miaran's instincts kicked in with a fierce intensity. She could feel the adrenaline coursing through her veins, her body tensing in anticipation of the impending clash. With a primal roar echoing in her ears, she lunged forward, her movements swift and decisive.

She braced herself for the impact, her muscles coiled like a spring ready to strike. As the young beast made her move, Miaran countered with a ferocity born from years of survival in the unforgiving wilderness. With a fierce determination, she attempted to dodge the assault on her neck, attempting on countering with a powerful headbutt to the youth's face. Her every sinew screamed with determination as she unleashed a flurry of attacks, each one fueled by a raw, primal energy.

Her claws attempted to rip through flesh, her teeth flashed in a fearsome snarl, and her tail thrashed behind her like a wild, untamed force of nature. In that moment, she was a warrior, a predator unleashed upon her prey with a relentless fury that brooked no resistance.

Her eyes blazed with a fierce intensity, her very being a symphony of violence and grace. With every strike, every movement, she conveyed a message of defiance and strength, a testament to her unwavering resolve in the face of adversity.

In that fleeting moment of chaos and conflict, Miaran was more than just a mere creature of the wild. She was a force of nature, a living embodiment of passion and fury, a warrior with a heart ablaze with the flames of her own untamed spirit. And as she stood her ground, she knew that she would fight with every fiber of her being, for she was not just a survivor - she was a warrior, a force to be reckoned with.


@Cyrène vs. miaran
for
dominance
one of three

hits:

Rolling 6d20: 15 + 5 + 9 + 17 + 10 + 1

dodge:

Rolling 6d20: 8 + 16 + 3 + 6 + 15 + 4

luck:

Rolling 5d20: 18 + 6 + 16 + 7 + 17

Please, father, have mercy
God has mercy, I don't

table code by scorpixia ♡︎, gradient code by daanyen, image by celeste

now be still, i'm the judge
poisoned by a serpent's touch

if venom bit at her provocateur’s tones – lacing the curt denial of kinship with well-deserved envy – cyrène were not privy to it, nor were she inclined to care in all her reigning apathy. whether bound by blood or the mere proclivity to shed it, @Miaran were an obstacle to promised glory that the yearling bleue had yet to overcome — or expend her facilities trying. and though the prowess of the elder gladiator were wrought in the many lesions that riddled her hide, the challenge she embodied were all but confirmed as she, too, thrust herself to the would-be fray with a bellow of unleashed fury.

but cyrène? cyrène were a portrait of practiced constraint in all her poised silence. composed as the icy flurries that danced in their surroundings — even as the crack! of bludgeoning bone sought to chatter off her snout.

inexplicable pain radiates from her nose and reverberates through her jaw as miaran’s crown strikes upon it, forcing physical recoil that nullifies her hopeful bite. reflexively, the bleue jerks her skull away from her adversary’s touch as the scent of metal comes to infiltrate her senses and liquid trickles past her nares. first blood — and it were woefully her own. but her adversary’s onslaught persisted with the rake of claws to the front of her right shoulder; and as a muted hiss of pain snaked beyond the clench in her teeth, the dieudonné’s hinds unfurled with an attempt to push forth in retaliation.

however close their quarters, now, the bleue merely sought to bulldoze her way to an upper hand by means of continuous force, chest-to-chest: hopeful in her endeavor to compromise her opponent’s balance. but she were due withdrawal of her own, and with the attempted scrape of a grappling right forepaw, strives for the tender flesh of miaran’s left-sided neck in hopes of inflicting severe gouges. blood for blood, and their world would be better for it.


cyrène vs. miaran
for
dominance
two of three

hits:

Rolling 3d20: 18 + 17 + 12

dodge:

Rolling 5d20: 1 + 3 + 6 + 17 + 4

luck:

Rolling 5d20: 15 + 9 + 19 + 6 + 20

table by ryuu

TRIGGER WARNING !!
This content might touch on topics that are sensitive or triggering for some readers.

Frequent mentions of Cannibalism, Morbid Thoughts, Blood, Violence

Miaran's determination burned like a wildfire, igniting her every move with a fierce intensity. She refused to be defeated on this day, not if she had anything to say about it. With a ferocious hunger for victory, she urged her opponent to bleed for her, craving more and more of the red liquid that promised strength and power.

The sound of their clash echoed through the air, mingling with the metallic scent of blood that permeated the atmosphere. It was a symphony of violence, a dance of pain and perseverance. Miaran's claws sank into the shoulder flesh of her adversary, leaving a trail of wounds in their wake. Age was no barrier to her, for she had learned to embrace the feeling of agony as a means of defense.

As Cyrène retaliated, Miaran felt the sharp sting of claws tearing into her own body. The growl that erupted from her throat was a primal declaration of her determination to not back down. Despite the pain that seared through her, she continued to fight, seeking solace in the sensation of blood and bruises. This was what she lived for, the raw and unfiltered intensity of combat.

A bruise would most definitely form soon on Miaran's body from the clash. The sting of claws digging into her neck only fueled her rage, a guttural growl escaping her lips as she fought back. With a primal instinct, she attempted to strike back with a smack to the yearling's face, warning her adversary to release their hold. But the pain, the blood, the raw intensity of the fight only served to fuel her desire for victory.

With narrowed eyes and a thrashing tail, Miaran balanced herself on her hind legs, each claw digging into the earth with a desperate grip. The battle raged on, a whirlwind of passion and chaos as both fighters refused to yield. Each moment was a symphony of pain and struggle, a testament to the indomitable spirit that burned within them.


@Cyrène vs. miaran
for
dominance
two of three

hits:

Rolling 6d20: 13 + 11 + 12 + 2 + 19 + 1

dodge:

Rolling 6d20: 8 + 17 + 1 + 18 + 13 + 5

luck:

Rolling 5d20: 7 + 16 + 10 + 6 + 19

Please, father, have mercy
God has mercy, I don't

table code by scorpixia ♡︎, gradient code by daanyen, image by celeste

There was an invisible sort of string that tethered family together, was there not? Delphine’s black and aching heart had felt the absence of her soeur well, disappointment having once curled its fingers around her chest since time and gods had pushed them apart. Relief had flooded her, of course, to see her steel-coated littermates return, albeit the fact that she may not admit a feeling so openly – but there was something in the air that pushed the brunette hound back towards the thralls of the pit today, and back towards the bloody walls of the would-be coliseum. She, at first, thought that she may find another opponent waiting for her arrival, but what loomed within the hole of limestone and gore was something much more appetizing, and much more satisfying to those brimming, fervent eyes.

@Cyrène, clad in battle with the same woman that had taken tooth and claw to delphine only some weeks prior. Her features, though smothered cooly in stone, twisted with the slightest perch of her brow and the faint quivering of her lips, taunting a curious smirk, as she teetered on the uppermost-edge of the crater. And it was there that she would remain, a gargoyle perched in observation of the fight that unfolded before her now – eager (terribly so) to see how it would end.

@Miaran

code by squid, art by drifty

now be still, i'm the judge
poisoned by a serpent's touch

in the throes of heated strife and presumed trial, the presence of her sweet sœur were sorely missed amongst the shadowed stands of their colosseum. the bleue’s ignorance, however, were a blessing in disguise to check the insecurities she harbored — insecurities that only festered with her opponent’s demonstration of superior prowess. crude though her tactics were by comparison, cyrène were keen upon refinement; and, unwittingly or not, @Miaran were just the mentor she required in all her glorious vehemence.

through the residual aches of snout and jaw, the bleue mirrors the ferocity written in her adversary’s snarling expression. but where miaran were a blazing inferno – threatening to incinerate all that lay in her path – cyrène were frigid as ice, and equally as unforgiving.

sick satisfaction rings as her nails rip at the seams of her adversary’s neck, exposing the brilliant carmine kept hidden beneath a canvas of greys. but the lacerations she’d carved were not nearly enough to wholly slake (or fell the ruthless beast); and as cryène moves to re-ground her lifted forepaw, she attempts to rake her claws down the length of miaran’s neck. it were an endeavor that served to distract from the bludgeoning strike upon her cheek — until a flash of splayed toes finds her peripherals.

the force of miaran’s slap were enough to rock her skull, but the glance of claws to tender skin finds the yearling’s patience wearing thin, her composure fading. the etchings in her right cheek sting against the chill of winter air – adding fuel to the fire – and impulsively, does the viperine snap! of her jaws blindly search for miaran’s offending forepaw. it were an assault made imprecise by desperation and inexperience, but one she’d hope were successful enough even to nick the flesh of a lingering toe.


cyrène vs. miaran
for
dominance
three of three


hits:

Rolling 3d20: 8 + 11 + 17

dodge:

Rolling 5d20: 16 + 19 + 18 + 8 + 7

luck:

Rolling 5d20: 13 + 3 + 8 + 16 + 11

table by ryuu

TRIGGER WARNING !!
This content might touch on topics that are sensitive or triggering for some readers.

Frequent mentions of Cannibalism, Morbid Thoughts, Blood, Violence

The intoxicating agony of sharp claws sinking into her delicate flesh, the warm trickle of her own life force staining the earth beneath her. She doesn't shy away from the pain, but instead basks in it, yearning for more. Theirs was a dance of passion and intensity, a fiery clash of opposing forces where Miaran's heat met Cyrène's icy chill. With every drop of her own scarlet life force spilling onto the cold, unforgiving ground, she felt an intoxicating rush of pure, unadulterated pleasure. She welcomed the pain with open arms, relishing in the sweet torment that bound them together in a dance of fire and ice.

Each strike of claws against flesh sent a surge of adrenaline through her veins, her retaliation met with a defiant smack across the young predator's face. The viper's attempt to push her away only fueled her hunger for more. As fangs grazed against her own attacking paw, she could feel the raw power coursing through her, the sensation of her skin tearing and blood staining the battlefield. The taste of iron on her tongue only fueling her primal instincts.

As claws and fangs clash in the ending of this battle, Miaran revels in the agony of it all. Her heart pounds with adrenaline, her body throbbing with the exquisite torment of combat. Her lungs burn with sweet ecstasy. Each wound she inflicts upon herself only fuels her desire for more, a twisted kind of self-punishment that drives her to new heights of ecstasy.

Miaran's heart thundered in her chest as she faced off against the yearling, her breath ragged and desperate. The raw power emanating from her opponent was intoxicating, drawing her in like a moth to a flame. Despite the pain and exhaustion that consumed her, she hungered for more. She yearned for the adrenaline rush of battle, the sweet release of letting go and embracing the agony that came with it.

Every fiber of her being screamed for her to keep fighting, to push herself beyond her limits. Blood dripped from her wounds, staining the ground beneath her with a crimson hue. The ache in her muscles was nothing compared to the fire that burned in her soul. She knew she had to stop, to rest, to heal. But the temptation to continue was overwhelming.

"Acceptez la douleur, car elle est la clé de votre croissance," Accept the pain, for it is the key to your growth, she whispered through clenched teeth, her voice thick with emotion. In that moment, she was both warrior and victim, strength and vulnerability. The toxic honey tones that filled the air around her were a testament to the duality of her nature, the paradox of her existence.

With a final, defiant glare at her adversary, Miaran took a step back, her body shaking with the effort of holding herself back. She knew that this was not the end, but merely a brief respite before the next battle. And as the world faded into darkness, she embraced the chaos that defined her, the passion that drove her forward, and the pain that made her feel truly alive.


@Cyrène vs. Miaran
for
dominance
three of three

hits:

Rolling 6d20: 19 + 9 + 11 + 12 + 15 + 18

dodge:

Rolling 6d20: 17 + 18 + 10 + 11 + 13 + 9

luck:

Rolling 5d20: 9 + 3 + 11 + 4 + 5

Please, father, have mercy
God has mercy, I don't

table code by scorpixia ♡︎, gradient code by daanyen, image by celeste

@Cyrène VS. @Miaran FOR DOMINANCE
— RESULTS —

Cyrène Hits: 1 + 3 + 2 + 7 luck = 13
Cyrène Dodges: 2 + 1 + 3 = 6

Miaran Hits: 2 + 4 + 5 + 5 luck = 16
Miaran Dodges: 2 + 3 + 4 = 9

Cyrène Successful Hits: 4
Miaran Successful Hits: 10

MIARAN HAS WON THE CHALLENGE FOR DOMINANCE!

Please allow the challengers to respond to the fight results first. As per the site rules, if 3 days go by without a post from the challenger(s), they can be skipped. Whichever comes first! Any posts made before this will be removed, unless you are posting to another fight.