THE FAMINE—
My Lord, why is goodness so hard for me?

He suffers the sanction of searching for his lost sheep as the good shepherd does. Dawdling amongst the outskirts of Jericho walls and beating against the sovereign sandstone with fervor. Crying out and calling to that of their sanctioned God to rescue what is left of their inherent sinners. He does not come when called, and yet leaves Arishem to do the dirty work. Yet - has that not been what this always was? Mordecai was devout - in tune within the natures of a rapture coming, yet it always seemed to be sinner's blood on his hands. Baptisms did not make you holy, neither did a man's tongue - but it would always be the closest thing to comfort they would receive. He cannot count how many times the feel of salt crowded upon his ankles. Ripping vehemently against the wail of tainted skin - the amount of souls he had dipped unto the bay and held beneath the brimming rivers angry waves. The way some had thrashed and the way others had accepted their judgement with ease. Being unholy came with a price - always.

They believed down with the old and up with the new - yet, how many men had he brought to the light of salt turn to dark once more? It was no complaint within his world. His purpose was clear, outlined and divine within their religions. And while he may have been the most bastard priest to exist - Arishem got the job done as needed. He never tells of the thrall of excitement that clouds divine judgement - within the ways of their spluttering coughs and how they teeter among the edges of death. Their sentence being fully unto the discretion of the priest. It is sickening to think that a man of such stature would enjoy the fear of others.

He straddles the waste line of border and water. Peeling apart each sinking cell of sand to consider a culmination further unto the land. Pacing in circles among their borders, weaving in and out of sandy dune and crossing tracks upon his further discretion. It is a practiced routine - much like that of what was practiced in the holy lands. Whether he believes that the dunes will fall and the people will shout to bring forward Mordecai with ease - he does not know. Yet, he continues. Circling. Watching. Waiting for something to happen in this land they call unholy.

Outlaw Trade EXP
+5 Leave a trail of confusing tracks - (1/2)
+5 Learn something interesting about a pride or family (0/2)
+5 Explore a new territory and find something useful (1/2)

"Speech."

The sun was setting, but why was she awake so early? Silver eyes glared at the little specks of sunlight that still filtered into her den making it hard for her to sleep. Huffing softly, ears folding back in irritation, the teenager would rise and stretch, claws unsheathing momentarily before hiding once more. Might as well get a jump on the day…er…night..right? You know…being productive and shit. Tron was not in the mood to be productive while the sun was still shining. Grumbling quietly to herself, she’d exit the den and head towards the border, pausing long enough to grab the leaf she used to drag herbs back from further out in the desert.

She would have continued, none the wiser to the lion pacing at the border, but she had the joy of stumbling upon an interesting set of tracks on her way out. The black lioness would drop her leaf, brow furrowing as she followed the tracks with her silver gaze at first but then bodily following them as they moved around the border. Weird… She thought, eyes shifting from the tracks to around her as she attempted to be alert but really…she was still waking up. It didn’t occur to her that at first, she was walking around in much the same confusing pattern that the lion had, it wasn’t until her brain began to work that she stopped following them aimlessly and actually started looking at them.

Tired and now frustrated, Tron would stop at the crest of a dune, looking around to find the source of the tracks. A white lion pacing in more circles like a caged beast ready to be set free. Adrenaline zapped into her veins, her groggy mind suddenly sharp as heart raced for a moment. She regarded him with scrutiny as she approached, offering a soft chuff to alert the dizzying man to her presence…if he wasn’t already. “Can I help you?” She asked, doing her best to sound confident and…not like a fearful child. Silver gaze would search just as she breathed in the rogue-ish scent he carried. He looked different then most she had seen, but that wasn’t saying much really.

OOC: @Arishem

more clever scribbles to come. or footnotes...

code by corvus

THE FAMINE—
My Lord, why is goodness so hard for me?

The wine of circles amongst a then dunes of life present a fickle minding to the wares of a holy man. He takes the passage with ease. A crossing zig zag passage that dawdles upon the borderlines of insanity and perfection. The white dove knows not what to expect - but the Nephilim is not that of what he has in mind. A resounding swing of his hips fallows to churn towards the creature - intense and haunting he seems to loom against her shelter with a quiet murmur. Bring mir den Apostel. She asks, he delivers. Staring blankly - coldly unto her milky frame with seamless vindication. He see's sin and purpose within one. Binding together in an unholy matrimony of devastation - but then again, is that not what everyone harbored? Sin. Darkness.

Deliverance has come. I have been sent to save. I am the key to your salvation. The end is near. I can cleanse you. Your hoard. Cleanse, or crudely drink in their cries of despair? Water is near, baptism is needed. Confession hangs upon the hinges of their door way and Paul wishes to grant them the keys to their own new world. Clean. Free. Purposeful. She needs only to grant him the key to her own world. He wonders if their sin has ravished them whole - if the world that they stand before is nothing more than that of power and greed. How perceptive would they be with that of content sinlessness? We - Mordecai is not here. Neither is Talitha. I can grant you the salvation needed to ascend without harm.

Hover for translation
@Tron

Outlaw Trade EXP
+5 Leave a trail of confusing tracks - (2/2)
+5 Learn something interesting about a pride or family (1/2)
+5 Explore a new territory and find something useful (2/2)

"Speech."

The beast would turn towards her, stopping his pacing in the same moment. For a moment they seemed to regard each other, she drinking in his pale appearance and he soaking in her dark form. Tron expected a simple answer like ‘I want to join the pride’ or ‘I’m thirsty’….something that would make sense. Instead she was answered in a language she did not fully understand. The youth would blink at the rogue, her gaze reflecting her confusion, all she understood was ‘bring apostel’…and though she understood the concept she didn’t know what an Apostle was. “Bring what?” She asked, finally voicing her confusion while asking for clarification…perhaps in a less than diplomatic..or adult fashion.

The beast would go on. Her confusion slowly giving way to a sense of understanding. Great…he’s crazy. Maybe he had been out in the sun all day and was suffering from heat exhaustion or…something. She hadn’t seen it before. Unfortunately for him, she lacked the power to offer him shade within the territory. He spoke of cleansing her and her hoard…Her nose would wrinkle, what the hell did that mean? “I’m afraid I don’t understand what you mean?” She would ask again for more clarification…perhaps she wanted to hear the crazy one go on but she also was hoping that she could keep him rambling long enough for someone else to spot them…or at least him. The sun was slowly sinking behind the horizon, soon it would be difficult to see her unless the moon was full and she doubted she was that lucky.

“And how can you do that?” Carefully, the youth put a few steps of distance between them. It never hurt to be cautious when dealing with a nutcase…right?

OOC: @Arishem

more clever scribbles to come. or footnotes...

code by corvus

A point was proven. A snake had come to their Eden—venomous, a writhing horror that blemished their foyer. With the babes soundly tucked in their swaddles, the Queen lent her energies to the other role set upon her shoulders. Their borders scant, save for that of Tron and the lingering waft of something darker, something unfamiliar. A foreign toxin rallied against that of their congregation, a musk that belonged to none known to the matriarch.

Teeth found an edge as she crossed the distance, finding the youth in a stranger’s company.

But she knew him, knew him in the way she’d tasted the company of the fallen Rike lord. Knew him in the way she’d known those she had chosen to escape. Her flesh grew hot, a pulsing of maternal rage fettered sense, logic. Instinct, so new to her, boiled over, spilling into the quietness of motherly warmth and invoked a haphazardly hewn wrath. Giving no credence to time, to logic; giving no moment to command the child to flee.

Aidoneus instead chose to act, and act alone.

A flurry of movement, she throttled into motion, swiftly finding footing against the looseness of the sand. Absolved of self-preservation, teeth widened their harrowing embrace as she aimed to leap upon the interloper, the snake, the wretch. She intended to gnash her bite at his hind quarters, an attempt made to wrap her ropey limbs to encase him in a cruel clinch of their own. Knowing not if he were prepared for such momentous actions, she would push forward, intending to be his shadow, to be the oil slick clinging to heathenish flesh.

She intended not to let him be free of her attentions, she intended not to let him leave their Oasis without tasting the wrath of Andal’s new matriarch. A bellowing cry leapt from her rosy mouth, spilling out a summons, an invitation for the hounds of the house Miroslav to come and protect what was theirs.

@Aidoneus vs. @Arishem
Dominance [ get outta mah 'ouse ]
Round 1 of 3
Hits:

Rolling 4d20: 16 + 2 + 11 + 15

Dodges:

Rolling 5d20: 7 + 18 + 16 + 12 + 8

Luck:

Rolling 5d20: 14 + 12 + 17 + 10 + 6

XVIII     the moon ☾

_{ART & CODE}

THE FAMINE—
My Lord, why is goodness so hard for me?

She is blinded by the light of a darkened cloud. Her precious bosom coiled in the reflection of sinister infection from the sinful. The Apostle As if she had not understood the first time - he seems to stress it with further urgency. Heed not to the urgency of a sinners wishes brothers and sisters, yet be quick to gnash at the hems of sinful men. Tearing apart their kingdoms one by one until they succumb the wills of the sovereign Lord. They have come to save, and save they will. Mordecai He hopes the name rings a bell - if not to one than another. Poor souls. The world is gifted within a gift of grate graciousness - and yet, they have poisoned what was given for milk and light. He does not move. Wishing not to stir any further hesitancy within the sinners wail.

Do not understand? Child. Your world is dying. Falling before your very eyes. The violence, and turmoil that you see daily is only the beginning of plague. A fall of years to come of torment and torture. Your salvation teeters upon the edge of destruction. He has chosen those to seek out his people and bring them home. I am of his chosen - a priest, a baptist. His blood. Water. Shall cleanse you of your sin for an eternities grace She morphs unto a an inky blur before his eyes. Falling to the phantom of the dark and it is within this alarm settles in. She becomes the fallen of their angels - depleting unto darkness and morphing forth to the inky beast. Arishem stumbles lightly with a deep rumble and shot eyes - Dämon. He has stared unto the face of many before - expelled them from the bodies of innocent and screamed exorcisms to the skies but to be faced before one of earthly factions. Cold blood and physical body is something he has never seen before.

There is no saving that can be done here. Her sentence has come and she has been damned - sent to the force of hell for a thousand years timing. Yet - she seeks to burn upon the worlds surface and take those who come in her wake. Blessed be those who encounter with deathly spirits - for they know not of what they do. Fire meets water with a heavy and punishing grasp, delving unto the skin of possession as Arishem falls victim to the wicked whims of Satan's serpents. He does not register her presence, nor attacks until it is too late. Piercing by the veil and tearing the linen of his perfectly petricolid cassock. No matter how blessed he is to be ethereal, the worldly pain is something that still follows. Teeth collide upon flesh, sweeping hind quarters from under him with ease.

Verschwinde, Satan! It is but a rebukation to her wicked ways as the creatures body morphs unto sanctions. Arishem swells, twisting in a vehement coil to tear himself from her grasp and grant her the pound of flesh she so desperately craves. Their eden has been poisoned far beyond repair - the inky darkness having consumed them as a whole before salvation could bandage their wounds. He grieves for their ignorance yet, craves the violence she grants him. He is no better than those who worship the dark angel in these moments. In every month of violence really, but it is survival that grants him justification to the whims of the evil. His worldly frame aches with the pool of blood from hindquarters, but his soul bursts to life with flames. Those that reach towards the tips of cathedrals and drawls even the most pungent evil from darkness.

With a twist of his frame the cocaine priest faces her fiery features with heavy stature - mimicking her own cry for war with a snarl and peel of lips. She is faster but he is stronger. A trait he has found common in most creatures of darkness. Yet - it does not stop him in his advances. Arishem tumbles forward, feet digging unto the dunes with fervor as he attempts to close the miniscule distance between the two to bulldoze her frame unto the grounds where she belongs. If successful within his attacks. Gnashing teeth would aim in an attempt to clamp angrily against her scruff in a piercing mannerism and attemptful pressing power of his large frame to force her to bow. Within these moments - ashen eyelids flutter shut in a silent prayer of protection before flying open once more. Less the righteous rise and the wicked fall in these hours. His purpose here is clear.

Sparring Stats
The Serpent vs. The Baptist
(@Aidoneus vs. @Arishem)
Dominance
Round i of iii
Hits:

Rolling 7d20: 9 + 6 + 14 + 1 + 13 + 7 + 5

Dodges:

Rolling 4d20: 2 + 16 + 19 + 10

Luck:

Rolling 5d20: 7 + 3 + 19 + 10 + 8

@Tron

despite all you have done

She can feel him like a pulse upon the throat of her existence; bleeding lifeforce back into oxygen starved vessels. He who radiates faith. He who breathes for her, for them. She is never far. His sheep, his relentless follower. She needs no shepherd, though he shepherds her still. She is pulled willingly into his corral, enclosing herself amidst his barbed security, her gold-swathed ears obsessively fixed like radio towers to his nearing chant.

But this land is as poisoned as the last. The devil has reigned his clutch upon the young, their youthful flesh sparks against flint. Ticking time bombs. Her apostle - the apostle - fights tooth and claw for the salvation these young women need but deny, the darkness drawing them closer. Neriah defends her savior as any acolyte would. Blacksheep. She approaches the brawl with sinister intensity, her pulse quickening, thirsty for sin - she sates it in the name of divinity. They can still be saved.

The plum woman advances, seeking to press her bared fangs against the earth-striped girls haunches from behind; trying to make her lay before The Priest. Bow to his grace.

@Arishem & Neriah vs. @Aidoneus
Dominance (saviour!) - Round 1 of 3
Hits:

Rolling 4d20: 1 + 20 + 15 + 14

Dodges:

Rolling 6d20: 6 + 18 + 1 + 16 + 14 + 7

Luck:

Rolling 5d20: 4 + 10 + 11 + 5 + 14

you are not beyond salvation

_{art by yumpy}

"Speech."

The Apostle. Her ears came forward and then fell back, she still did not understand. She wanted to speak more, but instead she simply stared dumbly at the beast. He finally relinquished a name and she nodded slightly, confusion still on her façade. Who the heck was that? The name meant nothing to her, she’d never met anyone of that name or even heard of it before just then. The youth’s brow furrowed as he continued talking, his delusions manifesting into words that made little sense to her. Her silver gaze would shift around her, the world looked pretty alive to her. Salvation, destruction, blood and water…what an absolute lunatic… She thought to herself, about to open her mouth to speak, but something else was happening. His gaze seemed darker, more malicious, causing the youth to take a step back. His gaze reminded her of a predator about to pounce upon its prey and well…she didn’t want to be prey.

Fortunately, another came like a bullet seeking flesh to embed in, a guardian eager to protect its charge. A mother, protecting a babe. Tron jerked back from the pair giving them plenty of space, Aidoneous’ call being echoed by her own call for help. Another would come and at first, Tron thought it was someone to help, but that was quickly proven wrong. The lioness moved to help the lunatic and Tron would growl, ears folding back, but she was too frightened to launch herself into the fight. Instead she would cry out again for help…hoping it didn’t bring more enemies.

OOC:

Tron is just screaming for help...no big deal.

code by corvus

Who dares -- who dares bring a threat to his doorstep? Has he been idle for so long that they think him kind, or worse, weak? He's never heard @Aidoneus like that, her voice cutting across the desert with a vehement cry that sets his teeth on edge, his heart ablaze. His progression to the borders is swift, and already chaos descends in the face of strangers boring down upon his wife, his flame.

His lips peel back, exposing the pale white of his teeth as he strides onto the scene, pausing only a moment beside @Tron. "Find Drakon or Rielus," he growls lowly to the girl, his glare set intently upon the ensuing battle. Who else might come, he does not know -- but either way, there will be hell to pay for their crimes, and he will not have the Oasis caught off-guard.

And then he is lunging into the fray, hoping that the pale lion is distracted enough from his assault on Aidoneus to notice the incoming sovereign. Seneca makes no effort to slow as he approaches, attempting to bulldoze full-tilt into @Arishem's right side, a snarl cutting from his jaws. The brunt of his left shoulder attempts to slam into the priest's right, and gaping jaws seek to dig past the layers of his mane, attempting to sink his teeth into the stranger's neck. She bows to no one but me.

seneca & aidoneus vs arishem & neriah
for dominance/don't fucking touch my wife
move one of three

Hits:

Rolling 8d20: 4 + 6 + 8 + 1 + 17 + 15 + 7 + 11

Dodges:

Rolling 4d20: 13 + 4 + 19 + 10

Luck:

Rolling 5d20: 8 + 19 + 17 + 15 + 6

*seneca has one extra hit die due to andal oasis pride tier 5

@Beriah @Drakon @Rielus

Seneca Miroslav

table by ferus, art by sleepykyju

chaos pulls him, an iron giant to the proverbial magnet. he hears the trouble and he does not waste time, moving full speed towards the scuffle before he even knows who is at the center of it.

arriving on the scene he makes his assessment quickly, @Aidoneus being attacked, @Seneca in the fray -- @tron he does not know, and spares them only a passing glance. he barely slows his stride to take in the scene before he is pushing forward, seeking to approach @Neriah from her side, barreling towards her at a solid pace in a clear attempt to force her away from the queen. at the last moment he gathers his weight on to his hindquarters and launches both front paws off of the ground and towards the girl. his claws are unsheathed, seeking to shove against her side and attempting to drag his claws down her side, using gravity and momentum in his favor.

you'll pay for that.




seneca & aidoneus & alaric vs arishem & neriah
for not my friend you bitch
move one of three

Hits:

Rolling 9d20: 16 + 17 + 18 + 1 + 15 + 12 + 2 + 5 + 7

Dodges:

Rolling 4d20: 14 + 16 + 18 + 13

Luck:

Rolling 5d20: 17 + 11 + 2 + 5 + 18

*alaric has one extra hit die due to andal oasis pride tier 5

code by corvus