Lysander was very much beginning to think he was cursed. No sooner did his paws seem to touch the soil of a territory before it was brutalized in some fashion. He wore a frustrated snarl all the way out of the darkness of the caverns, following Hrefna's fresh trail from her own living quarters after finding them empty.

As the light opened up around him, Lysander found more bloodshed than he had been expecting, and it seemed to share the same source as the violence in the Brook, at least partly. This immediately put the already angry Hodari on edge as he moved directly for @Hrefna and @Magnus beside her.

He would move to sit on her own side, effectively blocking her in on two sides between himself and her father, something she might not have liked but it soothed Lysander a bit at least. "Its good to see you again, Magnus." If only one of their meetings could be under better circumstances._{BG — ART — CODE}

Pride challenges ought to be less of a concern for the man who no longer reigned — yet he comes to it nonetheless, out of concern for his newborn family resting easy in Firnen. How long it rests this way, however, Cupid is suspicious of. He rocks forth towards the darkened Hollows on the edge of what awaits him. Who ruled after Úlla he is unaware of, just that the scent of the territory now smells of a different hand. The challenger, too, is unfamiliar in appearance.

Yet it is another bloodbath on the wings that draws forth his attention as well — this one seems fierce, toeing a line that the Beaumont fears would end like the lost lives in the Rainforest during his own crowning. Dark ears flicker back nervously, as he stands on the outskirts away from the clusters of lions dotted in the halls.

exp tracker
+ 10x2 - Observe a fight ( roan vs alaric + saga vs eulalia - double xp from calypso )

art by rabbit

ooc: permission given from shan to say Roan caught his left ear instead of right, for the sake of more possible positioning and to save our heads from exploding any further

Everything else around them completely faded out of the Hodari's mind. All he could see was the pale stranger in front of him, projecting every misfortune that had befallen him and his family onto his opponent. It simply fueled the king that much more as the fight wore on. Adrenaline was a hell of a drug, though, allowing him to block out majority of the pain still, even as the blood continued to dampen his plush fur. The Hodari was unaware of the crowd that had gathered by now, nor did he know of the death match that had been instigated at his doorstep. Was it really a challenge if there were not more fights going on in the background?

As Roan pursued his double attack against Alaric's face, he would be disappointed to find the male diving down and away from his jaws. His claws would only catch the side of his opponent's jaws as the pale male moved about. As he dipped under the Hodari's own head, his jaws would snag the left ear in the process before the stranger's own attack found purchase at the front of Roan's left shoulder. A snarl ripped through his throat, more out of frustration than feeling actual pain, though he would feel the gouging of teeth boring into his flesh once more.

Muscle would rip and instantly bleed beneath the clean set of puncture wounds as Alaric seized a grip on the Hodari's left shoulder. Okay, it was time to step things up. With his own left leg returned to the ground, Roan quickly coiled his hind quarters beneath him, claws gripping greedily into the earth before suddenly pressing forward with both front limbs splayed. With claws exposed on both paws, the Hodari aimed to hook his left paw around the back of Alaric's head. His right paw would attempt to smack hard against the left side of his opponent's neck, hoping to burrow his claws through the thick fur of his mane. And then finally, jaws parted once more while aiming to gnash against whatever was closest of the left side of the challenger's face. It wasn't the damage Roan truly sought, though, so much as he threw his weight behind the attack in hopes to set his opponent off balance. When his right paw and jaws attacked, it would be with a little bit of a twist to Roan's own left, an attempt to shove Alaric to his right side in the process. Due to the mauve lion's movements, however, the pale man's left paw would manage to catch Roan's right elbow as it moved passed. They were short, but deep cuts that clipped right behind the joint, sending a searing of pain up the king's arm for a moment.

Roan vs. @Alaric
for Obsidian Hollow
4/5
Hits:

Rolling 6d20: 1 + 6 + 7 + 16 + 3 + 14

Dodges:

Rolling 6d20: 14 + 12 + 18 + 19 + 4 + 20

Luck:

Rolling 6d20: 2 + 5 + 19 + 20 + 15 + 14

Table & Ref by Amanda | Background | Base

Alaric knew at the end of the battle they would both be worn, tired, and bloodied. He knew that this man would give him a hell of a fight to the bitter end, and on some level he admired him for it. That did not mean he would back off or bow down, but he could respect a man who fought for what he loved. No matter what came of the day he had gained respect for the hollows, even if he would also become their forever enemy.

The success of his teeth in the mans flesh (even if they landed higher than he intended, on shoulder instead of leg) brought a thrill of adrenaline coursing through him. He was riding the high of battle, and determination settled hard across his pale features. Alaric was not aware of the fight to the death that had erupted nearby -- his focus was intense. Bloodied but far from broken, he saw his next opportunity and he did not hesitate to snatch it with an obvious brutality.

The moment Roan's paws touched the ground, forcing Alaric to let go of his grip on the shoulder, he was rising on to his back legs and striking out at the striped Starke. Here is where Alaric made an unexpected (or not, for those that knew him) move -- he did not rise to meet the man, no, but struck for the vulnerable belly.

He lunged down and forward the moment his left paw returned to the ground, keeping his head low from it's prior attack. His jaws were free and he opened them wide, aiming for the stomach that was suddenly exposed before him, attempting to sink his teeth in there. The lurch forward had Roan's claws sinking in to either side of Alaric's body, gouging the flesh across his ribs on each side. It hurt -- hell it hurt badly -- but the seasoned warrior was at a point where he would fight to his dying breath if he had to.

From underneath the male he struck at another leg, slashing out with his right fore, aiming for the rear left which bears the current King's weight. He attempts to hook his claws behind it, extending them fully. A success here could force the Hodari off balance and could turn this battle on its head -- and Alaric is desperate for the win. His face out of reach of the man's teeth Alaric feels a searing pain from the top of his withers, only moderately protected by his mane, and knows that this fight just amped up a notch.


Alaric vs @Roan
for Obsidian Hollow
4/5
Hits:

Rolling 9d20: 3 + 16 + 11 + 2 + 20 + 5 + 7 + 6 + 10

Dodges:

Rolling 4d20: 6 + 3 + 7 + 2

Luck:

Rolling 5d20: 20 + 11 + 5 + 6 + 19

code by corvus

Well, fuck. Alaric couldn't be a normal opponent who would just rear up and meet Roan's attack like a man. He had to be a little snake and dive down deeper beneath the lion in order to try and chomp at his precious little belly. While the mauve was furious that he put himself in such a precarious position, he also had to give his opponent some props for even attempting such a maneuver. What this meant, though, was that the Hodari couldn't exactly see what Alaric was doing beneath him. With everything happening so fast, there was hardly time to react to the piercing of teeth against his tender underbelly. Instantly and instinctively, Roan could feel his muscles contract, trying to pull himself up and away from the lion's teeth, but there really wasn't very far to move in a vertical sense. The Hodari knew that he couldn't stay in this position for long, however, or else he'd risk losing his life over the pride. They could always find a new home, but not if he wasn't around to help them.

Time was running out. Adrenaline was already starting to fade. Even if it didn't feel like the fight had been that long, Roan knew that this wasn't an average fight. His opponent was smart -- maybe too smart -- and innovative, unafraid to take risks. And all that would make Alaric more dangerous than the mauve lion initially anticipated. As Roan's own claws gouged along either side of his opponent's ribs, a renewed sense of urgency was replenished. It was actually poetic timing that when Alaric lunged out a fistful of claws at Roan's back left leg did the Hodari actually opt to throw his own balance. Curled talons would manage to slice a series of moderate cuts horizontally across the meatier part of the outside of the king's tensed back left leg at the last second it remained on the ground.

Roan would then shift his weight to his own right side, thus pulling his belly away from hungry jaws for any further risk of true disemboweling, not that his underside was completely unscathed as nasty bite marks had already been made. As his teeth met his opponent's withers, he'd aim to tighten his bite on whatever he could reach. The king would attempt to keep contact with his opponent through both teeth and claw while he threw his weight to his right side. It was all an elaborate attempt to try to pull the challenger to the ground.

Roan vs. @Alaric
for Obsidian Hollow
5/5
Hits:

Rolling 6d20: 11 + 15 + 5 + 16 + 19 + 3

Dodges:

Rolling 6d20: 9 + 7 + 2 + 11 + 8 + 13

Luck:

Rolling 6d20: 12 + 6 + 7 + 8 + 1 + 15

Table & Ref by Amanda | Background | Base

Alaric was not a good man. He was not honorable and just, even if he followed the rules of this land like any other did. Bound by them, true, but not willing to play nice about it. Bloodthirst sang in his bones and guided his moves, and when his teeth sunk in to the Hodari's belly he instinctively tried to shake his head, to worsen the damage he had done before he lost his grip.

But then the world tilted on it's axis and a cold strike of fear hit his gut. He could feel the pull as Roan intentionally toppled himself, could feel the trouble he was in if he landed with his back against the man's belly. So Alaric instinctively threw himself the other way, shifting his weight fully to his right while they fell. He had some vague awareness of his claws slicing through the outer side of Roan's back leg, but his lifted right leg is what caused his balance to be so precarious.

He expected Roan's balance would be just as compromised, could feel the tear of his left claws as they sliced down his right side, removing swaths of mane and leaving vicious gashes in their way. He felt as the shift of his weight would pull Roan's teeth from his withers, leaving deep marks in their wake. Alaric purposely threw himself down so that they might end up belly to belly and in a desperate act of retaliation would gather his hind legs and seek to kick up and towards the mans neck and face with both, attempting to gouge whatever part of the Hodari he might be lucky enough to hit.

He could feel the bruising as he toppled to his side and hissed as the dirt ground in to fresh and bloodied wounds. What the dust settled the victor would be clear, and Alaric held on the hope that it would be him that rose to reign.



Alaric vs @Roan
for Obsidian Hollow
5/5
Hits:

Rolling 9d20: 15 + 7 + 4 + 13 + 18 + 6 + 12 + 11 + 9

Dodges:

Rolling 4d20: 14 + 8 + 13 + 18

Luck:

Rolling 5d20: 8 + 3 + 2 + 19 + 18

code by corvus

As per usual, she might've missed the whole thing if it weren't for sheer dumb luck or @Beelzebub. Today it's the latter that directs her to this pride challenge. Ursula can only guess that when the call went up (if she even knew that's how it happened, honestly) it roused her cat-napping sister. They'd been tucked together on a rocky outcropping, drifting with dreams, after all, catching the warm rays of a sunny day. Soft but firm prods to her meaty shoulder is what woke the deaf lioness, so familiar of a feeling that it doesn't take much effort. She's always been a light sleeper anyways, so by the time Bee is off wherever she wants to take Ursula, the bespeckled is hot on her heels.

Together they move south with a mild amount of urgency in their steps, approaching a place that Ursula has never been but damned if she doesn't know how it smells. So this is where those lions had been from, those that invaded Scilla time and again to upend the established pride. Small wonder they wanted her family's island- even being raised in caverns she now understood the need for a little sun, the temptation of easier to find food. But it doesn't quell her frustration to think they'd done such damage only to move house. Would it really have been so tough to integrate instead?

Politics is something that she will never understand, however, and she's thankful that it is easy to find distraction from those thoughts. Bee has led them to mass gathering of some sort, one that they can now slink through without being fearful. Cautious, sure, they always will be, but even Ursula isn't consistently looking over her shoulder or leaning on her sister for guidance. The unhearing huntress instead is bright of eye, finding the battles easily for the berth they're given by the gathered crowd. Only half-monitoring where her sister goes, at one point the freckled one finds a clear vantage around the perimeter of the fights and stops, standing and watching the proceedings with interest.

code by corvus

Since healing, he has been back to his usual habit of herb collecting. Though he checks in more regularly with his kin in the Tundra, the bloom of spring entices him more often to dally further south. The secrets of the jungle keeps him enraptured. It's even more pleasant there now to him, too, the lushness in the absence of snow a bliss. Striding through the ferns felt like being stroked from head to tail- what's not to love?

Quickly enough he'd regained the stores lost after an unfortunate event, discarded in a river somewhere with an amount of his own blood. The ones he kept on his person whenever available, favorites of his for medicinal healing and destroying. Odhgrimm had put a vested effort in re-amassing said carry-alongs as efficiently and effectively as possible. He knew it was only a matter of time before another of their kin would need it.

And he's right, in the end, though how it happens isn't nearly what he's expected. The Assassin has known, of course, that this challenge was the plan. Being the Jarl's second meant he had special "rights to know" certain things involving their Clan, but even this wasn't a secret kept from the rest. All of the Rike knew, so when a voice finally calls for the Hollows, he's sure that none of them are surprised or unaware.

The challenger might still be a stranger to Odhgrimm, but he knows the deep down motive and that's more than other's might have. Quite interested is he in seeing the island's reaction, thoughts on the last pride challenge he'd attended. Even if this event wasn't affiliated with his family, he now knows their enemies forces to be too vast for repeated exposure. They'd suffered heavy injuries then, but no losses. It wasn't the time to get cocky about it.

When he prowls onto the scene, he feels the light of curiosity warm his chest as he appraises what he can see of the land in question. Calling it a Hollows certainly hinted to caves, but he isn't prepared for the yawning cavern opening nearby. He wonders how deep those tunnels go, and inside there's the masculine urge to plunge. Instead he seeks a place to watch, careful to keep his big ass out of anyone's view.

Over-large paws are careful where they rest as he skulks up a small outcropping, heavy frame folding into the prickly foliage atop. Not realizing that his vantage point is also that of Uzma, he peers out with intent green eyes, finding none other than his Jarl in the throes of battle alongside their intended King pawn. The agile shape of his opponent is easily recognized despite Odhgrimm not knowing her name. Wonderful.

Beginning immediately, the Assassin begins to work through the arduous process of deciding now whether he'd drag his Jarl's body off of the battlefield if he fell. Would he stop the Sigrún from tearing Eulalia's apart? He considers this line of through with half of his brain, the other falling into his usual mode of scheming. Now not only did their kin's next moves rely on a wannabe king; they'd also need to decide fast what to do in the immediate fallout of losing their leader. For his own sake and his lack of intention in being Jarl, Odhgrimm hopes that his elder cousin wins.

Sighing, the grey lion skims the crowd around them, his opportune view roving the many pelts below, notes taken of those he recognize and who he doesn't. Their dancing partner in the blood feud are as numerous, seemingly, as last time, and in particular he eyes a collection of black-coated lions. One he knew, and the rest he didn't until now, but they're all categorized as the dead walking as soon as he spies them. Lucky for the Rike that they're all so comfortable being close out in the open.

Odhgrimm is hidden.

coded by flea + background credit

TRADE EXP (BARBARIAN): +10xp - Observe a fight (Alaric vs Roan) [2/2]
+10xp - Observe a fight (Saga vs Eulalia) [2/2]
Double XP from Calypso.

The question was expected, and Magnus would respond swiftly, seeking to use the mother tongue to mask their business from any prying ears. "Maðurinn sem Saga berst við er einn af Rike. Ég veit ekki hvort hann leiðir þá, en hann hefur verið með ættinni lengi." A face he'd seen in the past, contorted and scarred and at the receiving end of his claws. "Ég sé enga af hinum rottunum, en það kæmi mér ekki á óvart ef þær eru hér. Vertu tilbúin." As @Morrigan approached, Magnus would turn to receive her, nodding briskly. "Another one of the Rike. He is a brutal fighter - I... would not be surprised if this is to the death." It turned his stomach to say it. He leant closer to Morrigan, seeking for his words to be for her alone. "This will lead to war, Morrigan, and if you join us it will bring you and yours into their firing line. We will need to hide the children - they are not above killing them; it has happened once already." With a sombre expression he would pull away, turning to regard @Lysander as he approached. "I regret the circumstances, Lysander, but it is good to see you." He glanced between the gold-pelted male and @Hrefna. "Be on your guard. The man Saga fights," he directs to the Hodari, as he wouldn't know, "is an enemy of the Sigrun, as is his clan. I do not know why he is here," as he knew not of the alliance between Seneca's soldier and the Rike, "but where one Rike goes, the others tend to follow." Crawling out of the woodwork like rats.

the winter soldier

THE BLOOD ON MY TEETH BEGINS TO TASTE LIKE A POEM, LIKE RELIGION, LIKE THE WAY YOU LOOK AT ME

This content might touch on topics that are sensitive or triggering for some readers. Trigger Warning for mentions of blood & gore.

That ancient (knowing) hunger lurking within the red beast is roused by the first spill of blood. He can feel that building wrath crawling from out his throat, like a rabid wolf caught in all that darkness; snarling. He can almost taste its copper tang, dripping like a ghost's caress along on the edges of his tongue. Carmine dampens the earth, and blood fills the air - thick, metallic; the sonnet of violence, weaving through the crowd like an ocean tide, as all hell breaks loose and bodies come in a roaring flood;

A death match breaks out amidst the bristling fray, as more bodies unfurl from the humid shadows along the moutains. Amaroq takes it all in, drinks his fill of it, his mind swimming with a darkened thirst. The hunger grows rampant, his adrenaline exhilarated by the steady flow of violence, as chaos sheds across the earth like the wings of angels being violently, shorn. He watches everything unfold, his stare keen as a falcon's; the chaos, frenzied and riotous; further stirring that deep, ancient hunger unfurled within him.

So full of intent, so keen his stare, that his eyes had barely grazed the passing form of @Hambone. Amaroq temporarily diverts his gaze from the bloodshed, to view the strange, mauve male. Amaroq says nothing to him, although notes his peculiar appearance and mannerism. When @Aidoneus greets him, however, it is almost unexpected. His cold, blue eyes become suddenly engulfed, their wintry depths ensnared by the fiery heat of those luxurious, feminine curves; her beauty, eternal, ever captivating, their tigress-hue fleshed in amber flame.

"Neither are," His voice, low, steely, slips free of his humid jowls; his answer direct, a hot breath spilling from his inky lips as his talons taps against the earth, echoing his hunger, his restlessness (their lupine torrent). He watches with an icy gaze as the swarthy, brawny image of his brother @Gauthier approaches, their tawny muscles unfurling smoothly against all that darkness. Amaroq greets his brother with a silent nod, a flash of smiling fangs, watching as his brother comes to the otherside of Aidoneus.