she prowls a few steps closer and magdalena’s muscles bunch in anticipation, lips curling up over her teeth in a snarl that she doesn’t truly feel anymore. there is still the roar of her fury, sure, but it is dampened by a heavy, suffocating veil of misery. the woman prepares to launch herself at her sister when a set of jaws close around her scruff.

magdalena knows who it is before she can scent him.

“let me go!” she hisses, trashing in his grip to try and free herself with no care for if dominic’s grip tore her skin open in the process. her paws flailed, not slightly resembling the warrior she has tried to become, instead wildly attempting to beat at dominic with sheathed claws. “i gave up everything for her.” magdalena seethes, words dripping with the same hatred that fills her eyes. “my healing den,” torn to shreds so that magdalena could train instead to be stronger for melusina. “my childhood,” laid aside to find her, to try and protect her, to avenge her. “you.” because her sister would have been hurt to find that magdalena had been frolicking with her friend while melusina had been nearly dead, starving, lost. “but icefang is who has made her strong?” oh, how magdalena wants to scream and scream and scream.

aeistrios, renfri, luther - magdalena hated each of them for what they had done to her family, for how much they had forced her to give up - had never thought she might end up hating melusina for the same.

magdalena vs @Dominic
for major maim
III of IV

hit:

Rolling 6d20: 9 + 8 + 15 + 10 + 19 + 11

dodge:

Rolling 6d20: 2 + 1 + 5 + 12 + 8 + 10

luck:

Rolling 5d20: 5 + 13 + 16 + 7 + 10

+1 hit dice due to pride Tier 4 status - "Tier 4: Bonus to members participating in fights in their pridelands (doubles the level 1 bonus of their master trade)."

coding by daanyen | art by yumpy

He could feel the hate radiating off of her like a virus. It began to boil over, causing the girl to thrash and fight against him, his jaws sinking unwillingly deeper into her flash because of it. Blood. He could smell it beneath his nostrils, it caused him to still, but he didn't relent. Dominic did his best to keep her in place, but found it increasingly difficult. Despite her tiny stature, she was strong, she was a wildcat.

That anger within her was making his own bubble to the surface. Whatever was going on in his own life, right now all that mattered was Magdalena and Melusina. Her claws were sheathed, but he needed her to do something. To hit him, to expel some of that rage on him. He could take it. He'd asked for this, right? It was time to provoke, time to give her cause to turn that anger onto him.

"WHO ASKED YOU TO?" He finally snarled, letting go of her scruff, standing ever close, panting heavily. "Who? Magdalena. Did she?" The boy snaps, teeth baring at his friend...his lover. His massive size ushers forward again, attempting to tackle her once more, but this time with more force. Not enough to break anything, but enough to perhaps get her attention. It was that word, that admission that caused this - this surge of his own anger.

"I don't belong to anyone." Voice quivers with quiet intensity, said near her ears if he's close enough in the moment. He didn't know what else to say to her, what else to do. Melusina could deal with her after he'd calmed her down - if that was even possible.

Dominic vs. @Magdalena
For Major Maim
0 1 2 3 4
Hits:

Rolling 5d20: 16 + 14 + 18 + 11 + 15

Dodges:

Rolling 1d20: 7

Luck:

Rolling 5d20: 10 + 4 + 13 + 6 + 8

His friend would speak, tossing away the very words he had given him. He was no Zanmi. Lathan would only chuckle, the sound low in his throat. “I am more Zanmi than you realize.” The words low, a whisper. Had it not been him that had mentioned the swamp so near and dear to his heart? Had he not doctored the mans paw instead of stuffing it with a poison that would have caused it to fester? So what, he made him sick to his stomach and made him hallucinate some bad shit? He still helped. At least he hadn’t lied to him about the swamp that was right there- just across the lagoon…it was practically within swimming distance…if you were a good swimmer. They would be interrupted, however, as a golden and white man came rushing at them with a bellowing snarl. His chest would heave in a sigh, he was not cut out for this…barbarian style of fighting. He liked the stealthier side of things. The man would lunge forward and Lathan would attempt to jerk backwards two big steps. The impact would clip his shoulder, right at the chest, instead of the armpit region he had been going for. His muscles would bruise there, pain blossoming in a sharp throb, softened only slightly by the adrenaline that coursed through him again. Providing energy and relief. After all, he still had fresh wounds on his shoulders. Jaws came at him, slicing into the thick of his mane and down to his flesh. Blood welled, staining the silver of his mane a dark red as his own jaws attempted to reach for the flesh of his new enemy to grab and hold. Hungry for blood. "Speech." Lathan vs. @Arkyn For Matthieu Round 1 / 3 Hits: Rolling 5d20: 11 + 9 + 2 + 8 + 6 Dodges: Rolling 2d20: 20 + 11 Luck: Rolling 5d20: 8 + 5 + 6 + 3 + 14 **Reduced for fatigue**

Art by Rabbit and code by Shazaki

s

o forget theories of sorrow / & hellfire & brimstone at the final circle of the earth: / if I must believe in anything, I choose this

---

He insists that he is alive, and for it he has every alibi. He is breathing, he is bleeding; every shudder and every sigh, the deep-seeded vibrato of his snarl. Every evidence corporeal and absolute and so very alive. And every bit of him was shed and reborn anew, and every part of him godstouched in a way she would never understand. He was different, she was different, and perhaps not even the strength of family was enough to reconcile those differences.

I will not hurt you— he says as if it's a prayer, as if begging forgiveness.

—don't you fucking hold back—

—but I will not leave our family fractured.

Fractured? she howls with laughter, her mouth smeared with his blood—and hers. This family was chewed and swallowed and spat back out, as we were not even worth the honor of being eaten alive.

Tinúviel had doomed them by bringing them into a world which did not want them, and Alaric had so too equal the blame for siring them. They were children too weak for war born into its waiting hands, and there were no feeling more freeing than placing the blame on something other than herself. It felt like a flutter of wings, a breath full of air.

He surges forward, what brief glimmer of hope that she might have felled him snatched all at once as his chest presses against her, shoving her away from the battlefield. She could see glimpses of her sister and Dominic from between strands of familiar brown hair, but what once brought her comfort now enraged her. And each time she shoves and swings and writhes, she can do nothing to fight back. @Alaric was larger, and stronger, and better.

I swear to the Gods Alaric— she rasps,

—father—

something glints in the corner of her eye,

—if you go through with this—

she reaches down, picks up something jagged and sharp between her teeth.

—I'll—

She doesn't finish what she's trying to say. She wrenches her head forward and up, attempting to drive the sharp-edged stone directly beneath her father's jaw.

---

Melusina vs Alaric
for Melusina
iii of iii

Hits:

Rolling 1d20: 20

Dodges:

Rolling 7d20: 15 + 13 + 2 + 12 + 14 + 19 + 9

Luck:

Rolling 6d20: 15 + 2 + 11 + 19 + 14 + 17

Art by rabbit, table by cala

+10 Participate in a raid or war (SL/allies vs VB/Allies)
+10 Use a creative move in battle (ball stomp lol)
+10 Win a fight

Chaos raged around him, blood overpowered the salt on the wind, and Zaahir lost track of his opponent in the crowd. Distantly, he heard Harou's voice, the demotion of the queen he'd yet to meet - he supposed her target must not have been an approved one. Honestly, Zaahir was starting to have trouble identifying the Scilla lions by scent and he didn't know them by sight. Were they winning?

Fur and body parts were flying and nobody seemed to be paying him any attention. Hm. His wounds needed tending, and those here seemed to have things under control. They were probably winning, right? Zaahir shook his head, the more important battle had been decided and Scilla would not change leadership. As for everything else, he'd see who came home in pieces and needed to be patched up.

A flick of his tail and his gaze skimmed the crowd for glimpses of pale fur. He'd make an effort to find the boy whose face he'd sliced up, and see what could be done to minimize the lasting damage. After that, he supposed he'd gather what he could and wait back at Andal for their fighters to wander back home and see who needed tending to.

-exit-

God knows we like archaic kinds of fun

code by corvus || image by moogle

They're a writhing mess of slashing claws and parried fangs; they hit the sandy earth, tangled in one another, as Saga's vision clears slowly. Her curled haunches deliver powerful kicks, tearing chunks of fur and wetting the fur between them with his blood, and she sneers even as her fangs as driving towards him. They react swiftly, neither giving the other quarter, and as her body struggles to remember how to breathe after the wind has been knocked out of it, her fangs snap through his thin ear.

But then - his claws, his paw.

They slam into the side of her neck, digging deep, and shoving away from him, towards the earth. To be pinned. And something like panic surges in her at the notion. She's never felt small and weak before - not like this. Not with the Rike bastard looming above her, even with his smaller size. He has age, he has a body made ready with experience, held over her.

And she?
She has two years of lost potential and a vessel that barely remembers how to walk, let alone fight like she did in her prime.

So her forepaw slashes up, desperately trying to connect with his - to no avail. His claws sink deep and the impact of it snaps her head back, cracking her skull to the sand below, and having stars flash once more. Her attempted slash of her forepaw turns into a curled attack with both claws. Saga's forepaws come up, aiming at his face in an attempt to tear across the top of his skull down the sides of his muzzle, to help encourage him to get off and away.

Saga v @Hubert
3 of 4 for major maim
Hits:

Rolling 5d20: 3 + 16 + 8 + 18 + 2

Dodges:

Rolling 4d20: 12 + 13 + 8 + 4

Luck:

Rolling 5d20: 4 + 14 + 10 + 6 + 9

table by ferus & art by drifter

She was impressed that @Matthieu managed to make his way to her, even as she fought her way through the crowd to get to him. As such, she wasn't surprised that he collapsed as soon as he got there. At least it was on the outskirts of everything, and not in the middle of some fight. She just had to hope that they would be left alone while she worked.

Did ye be bringin' any herbs with ye? she asked @Rhea, glancing at the other lioness before turning her attention back to Matthieu and gingerly sweeping his mane back so that she could get a proper look. His face was a mess of wounds, and she knew without having to look too hard that he'd lost an eye. She was, of course, incapable of repairing that, but she could at the very least get it healing properly and attempt to stave off infection. What a tragedy this was, she thought. He didn't deserve this. She would ask the spirits why, except she knew they wouldn't give her an answer. If they did, perhaps it would only be that she should be thankful he was alive.

It could always be worse, she knew, but... it could have been better as well.

From her concealed perch, she watched with bated breath and a racing heart. The metallic scent of blood electrified the air, beckoning the savage beast within her. The Viper, a fierce warrior of the night, thrived on chaos and bloodshed. Isla's declaration of war ignited a fire within her soul, prompting the Viper Queen to unleash her fury upon any who dared challenge her.

The Lagoon Queen's call for death resonated deep within Miaran's being, fueling her already burning desire for vengeance. With a calculating gaze, Miaran surveyed the brutal arena, analyzing each combatant with a deadly precision. Her mind raced as she strategized her next move, determining who she would aid and who would fall victim to her lethal capabilities.

A primal hunger gnawed at her being as she licked her lips in anticipation. Her attention shifted to Harou, the one who had publicly humiliated Helah, her trusted ally. A deep growl rumbled from within her chest, a warning of the storm that raged within her. But she held back, for now. Harou's actions had not gone unnoticed; his sins would be repaid in due time.

Every nerve in her body screamed for retribution, for justice to be served in the blood-soaked arena. Miaran's feral instincts surged to the surface, driving her towards a path of righteous wrath. She knew her time would come, and when it did, no one would be spared from the wrath of the Viper Queen.

Miaran's heart raced as she witnessed Morrigan viciously attacking an unknown male - a potential ally in the making. In that moment, fueled by a mix of determination and anger, she made a decision. The words of the Summit woman echoed in her mind, propelling her forward with a fierce intensity.

With her claws extended and her senses heightened, Miaran darted through the chaos around her, focused solely on her target. The very essence of her being, her Mobster roots, surged within her veins despite being away from her homeland for so long. She was a force to be reckoned with, a warrior with a past that defined her.

As she closed in on the Witch, her stance grew more aggressive - ears pinned back, eyes narrowed, tail swaying with purpose. The sounds of battle faded into the background as she zeroed in on her enemy, her paw throbbing with residual pain from her previous fight with Pyrrha. But Miaran was undeterred, embracing the pain as a reminder of her strength and resilience.

In that moment, Miaran embodied determination and unwavering resolve. With every step she took, she was one step closer to unleashing her wrath upon the Witch who dared to cross her path. Pain was nothing compared to the fire burning within her soul - a fire that fueled her every move and defined her as a true warrior.

--- Fight Here ---

Miaran lunged forward with fierce determination, her claws slicing through the air as she closed in on Morrigan from the left. With a guttural growl, she hissed out a deadly je suis, her narrowed eyes blazing with primal fury.

Her right claws aimed for the vulnerable lower rib cage of the larger lioness, while her left claws sought to attempt to tear into the central portion with unrelenting force.

Every muscle in Miaran's body tensed with the intensity of her attack, her jaw set in a menacing snarl as she prepared to strike. She shifted her weight, using her powerful back legs and tail to maintain her balance as she engaged in the fierce battle before her. In that moment, she was a force of nature, a warrior driven by passion and fury.


Miaran vs @Morrigan
Major Maim
Round 1/4
Hits:

Rolling 6d20: 18 + 3 + 11 + 17 + 8 + 19

Dodges:

Rolling 7d20: 15 + 8 + 2 + 9 + 6 + 12 + 14

Luck:

Rolling 5d20: 5 + 10 + 15 + 19 + 4

50% chance of using the shadows to your advantage in a fight (+1 to dodge rolls for next round, once per thread):

Rolling assassinshadow 1d30: 20
The shadows have failed to help you.

table code by daanyen

He struggled to keep his head held up and thus succumbed to leaving it rested upon the sand, oblivious to the blood running down his face and staining everything it touched. The snarling and clashing bodies was relentless behind him and as much as he wished he had the strength to turn and check on Dio, he couldn't summon the energy; he could only hope and pray that she was spared serious injury.

He half listened to the exchange between @Heloise and @Rhea, thoughts focused on Dio as she fought the woman, but felt the gentle closeness of the vodou queen's paw as she pushed back his bloody and wet mess of a mane. He tried to meet her gaze and mumbled out, "Dio?" Was she okay? Could she tell from here?

art by muuland, code by lars

TRIGGER WARNING!
This content might touch on topics that are sensitive or triggering for some readers. Trigger Warning for mentions of gore, cannibalistic thoughts and intentions

The taste of the females blood flooded Helah's mouth, and she tried to keep herself focused- to not lose herself to the bloodlust that threatened to take over her. She can hear the delightful sound of flesh tearing, the small ripping sound as she focuses solely on the sensation of her teeth buried in the female's throat as she thrashes her head. She feels her own flesh pull and tear, as she feels the female move backwards, and her pain skyrockets in her mind- building into an inferno, as the muscles of her shoulder and neck tear and pull.

By the time the paw comes up near her muzzle, Helah's already aimed to release her grip upon the female's neck due to her own pain, and instead of seeking that grip again or aiming for her face... Helah would snap at the female's paw aiming to slam her jaws into it- hoping to hear the satisfying crunch of bone, and the tearing of flesh.

The female may have gotten her neck free, but Helah would do her best to eat that paw. A mid-fight snack, if you will.

helah vs @walpuris
for death
3/7
hits:

Rolling 8d20: 11 + 7 + 20 + 19 + 13 + 2 + 14 + 3

dodge:

Rolling 5d20: 18 + 5 + 7 + 11 + 15

luck:

Rolling 5d20: 20 + 16 + 3 + 5 + 7

ART BY RABBIT, CODE BY LARS