He does not need to wait long to see chaos reign. Amaryllis all but overflows with a tide of self-proclaimed 'Queens' too stubborn to know when to bow before the strength of a male, and it seems the current ruler of this dinky little island was no different. How delightful. But while the two colossal beasts tear into each other to bloody the (distastefully) tropical crown, there are yet others. A coat as pale as ice becoming streaked with crimson. Hmm. Had @Astarte not mentioned a certain Vermedan woman of such description? This particular spectacle was becoming quite interesting indeed. Speaking of his beloved, Rainer could have sworn that he’d caught the faintest whiff of his wife’s familiar perfume during his approach, though he has yet to catch a glimpse of her maroon hide. His imagination, perhaps? Or perhaps not, for the Rike Jarl’s attention is soon stolen by a distinctly different familial presence, one bold enough to approach the battlefield without the use of sneaky tactics, even while his pale, translucent skin practically glowed in the morning light. "@Everick." He rumbles, languidly drawing out the syllables of his son’s name as his icy gaze sharply looked the boy over. His progeny has grown well, no longer a tiny mewling snowball, and now a…large, coherent snowball. Complete with the adornments of a near fully-grown mane and tall enough to rival Rainer’s own height. Not bad. The smell of the jungle on his pelt might even be an improvement over the stench of the swamp. Just barely. “I do hate to miss a show.” He purrs in lieu of returning the albino’s ever-so-adorable sentiment, allowing unspoken questions to lie unanswered, for now. Even so, the Rike leans in conspiratorially close to his son, dark lips curling into a devilish smirk, Everick’s sudden arrival now spurring a whole new array of entertaining ideas to dance in his mind’s eye. “ Ich vertraue darauf, dass du deine ... ‘Jagd’-Fähigkeiten scharf gehalten hast, hmm?” I trust you've been keeping your...'hunting' skills sharp, hmm? His native tongue spills easily past his lips, dark and teasing in its goading. “Sag mir, Junge, ist hier niemand, der dir ins Auge fällt?” Tell me, boy - Is there no one here who catches your eye? Scilla. Vermeda. It doesn’t much matter to him. He rather thinks Everick is old enough now to earn himself something pretty. Yet the father’s dastardly lesson is fated to be cut short by a mother’s wrath. The sound of his own name splits the air like a crack of lightning, and like always, Rainer is compelled to turn his head towards the erupting flames. You. "Hündin Königin" His voice hisses on an exhale, pale eye shining with a bright and deadly light. If it wasn't the bitch queen herself. A face he was unlikely to ever forget. How pleasing to know that the memory of his own visage had also lived on in the Illyrian 'Queen's' mind so...passionately. Scandalous. Here, delivered right to his paws, was the woman who had once sought to end his life. She had failed. And the price of her failure would be high, indeed. ~ Fight starts here ~ The warrioress's monochromatic form barrels towards him with all the grace and deadly force of an avalanche. A natural disaster that could never be outrun - and Rainer would not bother to try. No. The Rike Jarl would turn to welcome @Morrigan's tempestuous embrace with a wild grin, forearms rearing upwards in an attempt to brace against the woman's broad shoulders with his own clawed grip. "Missed me, did you?" Cocky though he is, the impact is enough to knock the breath from his lungs, the sound of his own gasping grunt filling his ears as his back paws slide back through the sand, possibly colliding against @Everick's youthful frame if the boy wasn't quick enough. His son's presence, however, is all but forgotten amidst the way his flesh burns. The thickness of his mane offers some measure of protection against vicious talons where they paw at his neck and shoulders, but his face, oh his poor face! Wasn't it bad enough that he'd already had one cheek scarred forever by a short-tempered woman? Snarling, the beast would wrench his skull to the left, seeking to pull away from Morrigan's tearing teeth in an attempt to clamp his own jaws into her flesh, gleaming fangs would aiming straight for her right eye. Meanwhile, his weight would shift to push against her as his grasping paws sought to push her body down by the shoulders, less interested in regaining his own balance than he was in dragging her down to the sand. Beneath him, where she belonged. Rainer vs. @Morrigan Major Maim Round 1 / 4 Hits: Rolling 6d20: 19 + 13 + 8 + 16 + 11 + 15 Dodges: Rolling 7d20: 8 + 3 + 4 + 7 + 10 + 1 + 18 Luck: Rolling 5d20: 1 + 11 + 2 + 6 + 7 Beatnik Lvl 5 Perk - Gain a randomized bonus dice for a round in a fight (once per thread; random roll to gain +1 hit, dodge, or luck) Rolling beatnik 1d15: 12 Congrats! You have earned +1 luck for your next round!

code by shaz | art by eightysichs

and here the alliances clash. here the memories of old collide with those of new, and he is a beast long grown. a boy turned man, with a heartbeat that pounds in time with the war drum.

rohan feels no true allegiance to any particular pride -- none of them felt like home as they once had -- but knows only his need to protect his family. his sister. dogging @Magdalena like a ravenous hound, eager to spill blood if only to spare her a drop. an ideal long proven foolish, for the sister was just as capable as the brother (whether he'd admit it or not). alas she was all he had left, the last remnants of a once great legacy, and so he stuck to her like a persistent fly on shit.

yes, magdalena, you are the shit.

focused on her as he is rohan barely notices the chaos; the battles that rage are in his peripheral, less important that the sole need that pushes the blood through his veins. play the protector, shelter the weak, be the man you were raised to be. foolish ideals but once he clings to all the same, as if he might find purpose in the long forgotten chivalry his father had whispered of. lessons imparted on the growing boy, the strongest of the litter, burdening him with this necessity in secret.

focused on her as he is rohan does not spot the other. he watches for would-be attackers and does not realize his sibling's target, not until she is launching from the sand and he is nearly loosing a battle cry, ready to rip the throat from any that dared challenge her.

swallowing it in a pathetic, wretched sound when he realizes exactly who that target is.

@Melusina

she's alive.

relief so intense courses through his body he nearly buckles, and indeed his legs shake beneath him as he slides to an abrupt stop, staring at the tangle of bodies that is his sisters. staring, frozen, until he cannot stand any more and lunges forward himself, attempting some awkward and pathetic hug of sorts as he aims to gather them both between his front legs.

coded by flea + art by yumpy

who's dog was he, now? who's chained beast, who's rusted weapon? which direction would he aim, now, with the banner of illyria stamped on his fur, the love of it's queen burning in his heart, and the loyalty of his legacy running through his veins? though he no longer wore the crown he did not forget the loyalties, the alliances, the bonds -- he did not forget them and yet... yet...

he did not care as he once had. it all seemed muted, distant. less important than the need to hold family in the highest regard, to find his own path away from guided politics.

if he was a smart man he would have stayed far away from this war; a war that whispered echoes of one he, himself, had led. certainly the memories are there, crashing hard against the front of his mind, flexing his claws and straightening his posture and reminding him of all that he had loved and lost and won and earned and deserved.

once upon a time.

he comes because his queen is here. his queen, not only of pride but of something deeper, something unspoken to any but her. a secret he harbors and holds close to his chest, burning through flesh and bone and blood and vein.

he comes because of her but he sees so much more. a son -- oh and he takes half a step towards @Hubert with a deep rooted need to rekindle that bond, to reunite with blood and family, to greet him as only a father could. he would have had the son not found his own battle, set upon by a creature that moved more familiarly than he dared to examine.

so he looks elsewhere.

and alaric starke's attention lands squarely on the reunion happening only steps away, the tangle of bodies that are so achingly familiar he feels a sob bubble up in his throat. he knew where magdalena and rohan were but melusina... he, like the rest, had imagined her lost in the same way as...

even now he cannot think of her; he shutters that memory and breaks in to a lope for the trio, ignoring the males that swarm his daughter's like flies to honey (much nicer than shit, pay attention rohan). once near he finds himself at a loss for words. fumbling for just the right thing to say the awkward silences stretches until he manages only a "keep up your guard" as if they needed advice, as if anything he could say would help, now.

oh how the mighty have fallen.

code by scorpixia ♡︎ & corvus; art by xaronarts

As if they could ever be friends.

No matter her respect for the summit queen Louve knows that sides must always be chosen. While she might have tried to keep Wolfbron from the worst of the chaos (dealing with their own losses, certainly) there was no more time to waste.

Cassius had long earned the cannibal queen's respect and so she will be here to watch him rise, to watch him earn the crown she believes him to deserve.

Slipping from the pridelands with a summoning roar for the rest of the Bluffs, demanding they come watch and be ready to support him, ready to stand beside him, ready to fight the inevitable war should it come for them. Icefangs words echo through her mind -- "I was ambushed by the Lagoon when I was traveling outside my borders."

Louve would not start it but Gods as her witness she would finish whatever came their way. Pacing at the edges of the chaos, eager to sink her teeth in to somebody.

-- Louve is observing, open to fights/interactions --

I am not a woman, I'm a god

code x art

Indeed, it remained true that Amaryllis would never cease to drag the lives of all who lived within it down into a bottomless whirlpool of chaos and bloodshed. That much, he had expected.

So perhaps Hubert's mistake lied in the naive assumption that it was done with him simply because he had left, for a time.

How foolish of him.

Today's rain on his parade came in the form of a pale young lioness, obscenely muscular, and adorned with one of those silly half-manes. Who was she? To put it plainly, he had no fucking clue. Someone of Isla's ilk, perhaps, if he was to make a wild guess based solely on the vaguely familiar shape of her markings. Regardless, the moment he realizes, a heartbeat too late, that the pale flash of @Saga's weaving form is coming for him, his reaction is visceral.

Sparks of pain race down his spine as sharp claws sink into his back, his shoulder, and the Starke man roars, the enraged, thunderous sound shaking his small frame as he staggers beneath the weight now half-draped over his back.

Sigrun. Rike.

The way his gaping jaws wrinkles his face and squints his eyes is what saves him from being immediately blinded, hot blood dripping down his left cheek as cruel fangs gouge into his brow, rending an eyelid nearly in half.

The Starke is a friend to neither. Yet still he remains, caught in the middle.

As the thundering roar faded into a rumbling growl, Hubert would fling his skull up and back as hard as he could, seeking to collide his crown with his attacker's muzzle, caring little for how her fangs might yet split his skin if he could break them first.

But this much, he knows - Saga Sigrun is dead. If she had ever truly existed at all.

His left shoulder would jut out, and then drop, Hubert's ears folding back into his mane and he threw himself to the left, seeking to push into the other's body and drag her down to roll with him across the sand.

And this woman...this mere girl, was nothing more than a troublesome flea to be crushed beneath his paws.

Hubert vs. @Saga
Major Maim
Round 1 / 4
Hits:

Rolling 4d20: 12 + 7 + 19 + 16

Dodges:

Rolling 7d20: 8 + 9 + 12 + 2 + 11 + 16 + 1

Luck:

Rolling 5d20: 10 + 19 + 11 + 9 + 13

CODE / ART BY Yumpy

there is a beast made of murder

The carnage drew him in like a hopeful vulture, hoping to pick at the carcasses of the fallen at some point or another.

Except the carcasses Grimm was interested in picking at were very much alive. It was his time to shine, to sink his teeth into the enemy, and as he had been present for the Sigrun take over in the Mire, he had already begun to memorize their scent.

When he approached the challenge, he was hardly interested in the pride fight itself. He was just here to cause more chaos. He breathed deeply, sniffing out that accursed scent he had been memorizing. Much to his disappointment, many of them were already engaged in battles... except for one.

The red lioness that had taken over the Mire. This was perfect.

He had no desire to take a pride yet; not at his age. He was hardly a full-grown male lion yet, however, he hated the bitch for disrupting his home, taking the Mire away from him and Luther. She would pay for her choices.

Grimm weaved through the already fighting lions, making a beeline straight for the lioness. He had set his sights upon her and did not remove them. He was coming for her, like it or not. And when he came into earshot, he snarled, "Dreckige Schweinefickerin Sigrun!" And then he bounded for her, coming up on her right side and aiming to crash into her and attempt to wrap his front limbs, clawed, around her midsection and simultaneously attempted to bite her back, nearest to her spine.

He'd crippe the bitch if he had to.

Despite his family being present, he had no knowledge of them even being there at the moment. He was busy.

---

Grimm vs. @Zahra
For Major Maim (TBD)
Round 1 of 4
Hits:

Rolling 6d20: 5 + 17 + 19 + 1 + 3 + 20

Dodges:

Rolling 2d20: 15 + 6

Luck:

Rolling 5d20: 5 + 18 + 1 + 19 + 6

that I can no longer keep chained

code x art x inspo

if you're going to be two-faced,
at least make one of them pretty

One of their own was fighting... of course they would show up to keep the pot of chaos from bubbling over a little too much. Valaine arrived just a little after Louve did, and like the woman, she did not seek to start anything directly, however, she was there for it if the chaos wanted to come her way. Her claws were coated in a poultice of the desert rose plant's sap and roots, a poison that caused cardiac contractions to whoever was unlucky enough to get it into their bloodstream. She'd be stopping some hearts today.

Her claws were colored a sickly yellow, but one wouldn't know that until it was hitched into their skin. Blue eyes swept over the many bodies gathered, and she noted Astarte among those that were here, and Rainer - already engaged in battle with Morrigan. Typical, she thought, and her tail twitched in a quiet annoyance. She spotted her Stark cousin present among the carnage, fighting some black and white female. She wasn't aware of her identity, but she fought him fiercely.

"Vhat is our plan here?" she asked, turning to @Louve ♔ who was standing a few feet away from her. Valaine wanted to know if she wanted the Bluffs lions to spread out and fight their enemy, or were they just here to tame whatever drama came their way?

Because Valaine was born in chaos, if nothing else. She loved stirring the pot and could use a bit of drama in her life... should Louve allow it.


-- Valaine is observing; open to any kind of fights! --

art / code

Zahra observed with attention as the fights began to break out around her, giving her some jealously for she also wanted some of the fun. She was here to support but also for fighting and bring pain to those who opposed the Greyflood and her closest allies..yet it seemed today she was going to face someone who was more or an enemy ti her own family or so she assumed upon hearing her last name leaving their mouth. "Rike," She muttered as she felt how the boy went straight to wrap his arms around her midsection and aim for her spine.

She turned to her right aiming to get her head perpendicular to his face. And when he bit her back making blood from both the claws and bite she attempted to bite and do so as hard as she could on his muzzle while she lifted her right front paw which was coated with poison to wrap it around his upper back or shoulders aiming to poison him.

Adam and eve Effects: skin, mouth and throat irritation; results in swelling, burning pain, breathing difficulties
Parts Used: sap

Zahra vs @Grimm
For minor maim tbd
Round 1 of 4
Hits:

Rolling 8d20: 13 + 20 + 7 + 15 + 6 + 10 + 4 + 9

Dodges:

Rolling 5d20: 2 + 6 + 15 + 17 + 7

Luck:

Rolling 5d20: 11 + 18 + 6 + 10 + 3

art

It seemed her nonchalant posture was anything but as she catches movement from @Güelle waving her over. Rhea’s fighting the nausea swirling in the pit of her stomach as he carefully strides across the field and towards her. So, it was his mother indeed that she had seen. What great timing to meet someone so important to her friend. “Hey,” she greets him weakly as he comes close asking her to join him and @Léonie. “Sorry, I’m trying not to throw up.” This was a nightmare. To gain control of the ick growing within her. All of this dredging up memories of a past she tried so hard to cover and forget. She takes a deep breath and takes a step forward towards him, giving him a weak nod. Yes, she would join them even if she hurled on the way over. Better to stand together.

Leaning slightly into his shoulder, again counting on him the way she had during their first meeting in the passage she moves with him back towards the smaller woman. “Hello, I’m Rhea. Nice to meet you though I wish it were under better circumstances.” Ears remain pinned as she shifts her glance to Isla, a slight worry in her eyes before she tries to keep her attention on the two before her. Maybe if she distracted herself this would all be over sooner than later.

Ooc: open to interaction

”Speech”

_{art & table by yumpy}

+5 Observe a challenge and learn the results (Cassius vs Isla)

He was called, and so he would come.

Rather than bedding down for the day, he would emerge back into the dawn, and follow. Down the bluffs, across the land, to the shore where their own Gentry fought for control. If he won, would this mean an expansion of the Wolfbron empire?

Sébastien would place himself to the side of @Louve ♔, his gaze on the challenge in progress. An ear twitched toward @Valaine as she spoke, and then his attention shifted to Louve herself, an arch of a brow as if to echo the other woman's question. Were they simply to observe? To offer celebration or support depending on how things went? He was not a man inclined toward senseless violence, or chaos for the sake of chaos, but he would defend their own if it became necessary.

code by daanyen || art by rabbit