Satire is the figure of a woman raging in from war. Woven in the whist of the devil's backbone and hardened by the culture of divinity, she is everything but what they would have for a maiden of fairness. She is not poised to be pet or to be cleaved as an obeying dog but rather wears her sense of wonder with power. A suit and tie so perfectly adorning the slick and curvy curl of her snake-like features, foiling amongst her frame with an innate determination that can only be coined as powerful and deadly. Neèra does not heed to what is theirs, yet instead makes the murkiness of the wetlands her own. If God could bow and kiss upon her toes, then so should the woes who tread amongst her desires. Those who barricade the witch's home with meaningless piss parades. She wants the swamp, and so she will take it. Not to rule, but to become the sniveling snake under their trunks. Scheming and conniving - her wares never come freely and a price is made to be paid, and with full intent, she garners their wages for a day worth of her time.

It is familiar and murky, a haunting display of mundane seances and broken crosses. Woven within the trees drown the rosary of those a thousand years dead, poignant and crested in their rotting waves as the sea of Spanish moss reaches out to touch her with gentle hands. Each caresses different from the last, yet, somehow hauntingly welcoming. It makes her shudder in anticipation for the further she goes, the more hopeful she becomes in not being found. If drowning in the trees meant to live within eternity; Neèra would drown for the rest of her life. Ebbing and flowing amongst the conscious prism that encapsulates the world with ghost kisses. It is decided - whether the residents shall have her or not. This is her home, her planchette unto her ouji board and she would not be driven out without a fight.

!!! Neèra is partially deaf & selectively mute !!!

If it wasn't for the residents of the Mire, Erna Rike would begin to feel her limbs grow stagnant without the opportunity to go outside and fight explore. When she wasn't assaulting her fellow pridemates, the dark woman was scouting the Ecrosian territory, traversing the depths of the swamp-like a trapped ghost of the past. She haunted the land daily, patrolling the borders along with every other corner she could.

When she noticed an unfamiliar rogue scent waft nearby the alarm rang clear in her head. She felt her heart rush like a wild horse at the anticipation of a possible battle and at the subconscious thought that her children were in danger. Her sleuthing paid off, as she snuck between the swamp shrubbery, attempting to stay out of sight. A woman came into view, one so blatantly disregarding borders and warnings, waltzing in as if she owned the Mire. Erna's lips twisted upwards in an instinctive snarl before she lunged from behind the female.

It all happened in a matter of seconds, there was no warning. Once close enough, Erna's teeth attempted to wrap tightly around the intruder's short tail, specifically the base portion. Her right foot lifted, claws attempting to gain a hold onto the woman's right hip, to try and keep her in place and cause as much damage as possible.

Erna vs. @Neèra
Dominance
Round 1 / 3
Hits:

Rolling 5d20: 2 + 3 + 20 + 12 + 7

Dodges:

Rolling 5d20: 6 + 18 + 3 + 10 + 19

Luck:

Rolling 5d20: 9 + 10 + 2 + 18 + 6

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Heavy is the crown that weighs the ashen woman down, pulling apart at her seams with unruly hands. Each and every waft of familiarity brings forth a daft memory to accompany the next brush of cold knuckles against her suit tie. Snaring heavily within the fabric and pulling apart her subconscious fiber by fiber. Stringing memories amongst her eyes in a psychedelic creed, she feels raw and numb. But numbness is not a company that is friendly - or even garnered for long. For when the numbness comes, Lucifer's lonely counterpart sweeps in to take hold of their place. She does not hear - blinded by the daftness of her own curse to even recognize the thrumming of a warlord's heart and the vagrant pounding of hooves unto the marsh until it is too late. The burn is that of delicious sin. A distant memory of bloodied knuckles peeling back concrete - blood scattering amongst the bathroom tiles. The smell of iron and the taste of life before her teeth.

It is the slide of Erna's hands upon her hips that brings drafted seductiveness unto her attacks. Vagrant lips peel upwards unto a coy and sly grin as her assault compromises start Creedence. She will not be driven out so easily. There is nothing more of her dignity that she can lose. Neèra is not sure at this point if she fights back for survival, or for the sheer pleasure of feeling pain. With gut-churning confidence, and perhaps a tad of narcissism the ashen woman would willingly succumb to her wishes. Mock submissiveness has never looked so pretty on someone of her stature as Neèra attempts to alligator roll her frame below Erna. If successful, the maiden would send a fairly cheeky grin to the woman before attempting to propel her shoulders forward to encase Erna between her slender paws - hoping to hook her claws unto the woman fleshy seel. She aims to make such an exchange seem as suggestive as she can - after all, what would one think of their own fraternizing in sin with a stranger? She belongs below, under the tow of Rasputin's throne but would remain a faithless whore to his many wives' advances

@Erna vs. Neèra
for dominance
Round i of iii
Hits:

Rolling 4d20: 3 + 6 + 17 + 11

Dodges:

Rolling 6d20: 19 + 17 + 9 + 6 + 3 + 12

Luck:

Rolling 5d20: 4 + 20 + 6 + 19 + 7

reference of neeras attempted position

It was evident by the late reaction that the intruder didn't notice the banshee's approach, which led to both tooth & claw marking their assigned targets. The metallic taste caressed the Rike's tongue. Erna knew little who this woman was, but the grey pelt and thick furs were feeding her paranoia, making her question if this was a Sigrun gone mad. After all, who would waltz so freely into a pride land if they didn't have a death wish?

The presumptions coiled around her head and reinforced her ferocity. As the enemy rolled beneath, Erna immediately attempted to gain a grip onto the right leg out of the two that attempted to encase her, caring little for where the opponent's other claws may land. Meanwhile, her right leg lifted, attempting to stomp down on the lioness' tender belly, claws seeking to tear and gut her alive.

Erna vs. @Neèra
Dominance
Round 2 / 3
Hits:

Rolling 5d20: 18 + 16 + 20 + 14 + 4

Dodges:

Rolling 5d20: 13 + 18 + 10 + 4 + 3

Luck:

Rolling 5d20: 11 + 1 + 3 + 8 + 20

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nusura The sound of sloshing water like an unruly pour of wine in the glass grabbed Nusura’s attention just as she was collecting for her stash of herbs. She stood on one of the slivers of dry land in the mire, and turned her head up into the wind to listen at the clash of body against body. A certain apprehension slithered into her spine and with a few slow, thoughtful steps, she then rippled into a careful lope. Using the way the trees blocked the light to carve out a path through the hazy world that was hers. The motion of the two women unfurled before Nusura, and she stopped, panting lightly. She could see them move, hear them, and smell the metallic twang of blood just freshly dripped. This was one time when she wished she had better vision, to see the faces of those involved in the bundle of violence that blurred into undulating shapes before her. Tense, and her own shoulders rolled forward, chin tilted in a serpentine curve with her neck and jawline – she let her nostrils identify that at least one of these creatures belonged to the swamp. To Alaric. His scent was thick and hot on her. She considered aiding her companion. Perhaps Erna had stumbled upon a trespasser. She held back never the less, pacing where she could and waiting for anything that should signal her it was time to act.

It is unholy, for the way they are woven unto war is like vagrant and infected dogs. One seeking the other head, while the other wishes to garner the heart. She does not care what they choose to take, only that the sweet satisfaction of vicious victory comes along. She feels like a rabid animal. A corpse to the reap of what the woman would sow tossed like a doll unto the seas and forced to breathe in the salty water as pain dribbles throughout her veins in a vicious Corrine. It is a taught and heavy wince that follows with the crackling of electricity throughout her frame as purchase falls upon the maidens fair woven. Pain ricocheting throughout her forefront as vagrant teeth ensnare the precious tendon with ease - a mark surely to be made in a time that is coming. As her fingers weave unto the women's silky locks, Neera feels the unholy stick of needles upon her spine. A certain innate ward flicks throughout her rampant and infectious thoughts as skin brush upon the skin. In a last-ditch attempt to protect herself, Neèra would try to kick her hind legs upwards unto Erna's gut. in Hoping to wind the women just enough to gain leverage. If she were to go down, something was coming with her. No matter the wounds faced as hefty claws sear unto her softened belly tearing taught at the skin that protects her - and soon thereafter pooling blood would harness the power to drown them in the sickness of violence.

@Erna vs. Neèra
for dominance
Round ii of iii
Hits:

Rolling 4d20: 7 + 12 + 20 + 16

Dodges:

Rolling 6d20: 16 + 15 + 6 + 17 + 2 + 10

Luck:

Rolling 5d20: 8 + 1 + 16 + 9 + 17

Once pearly, now bloodied, long incisors wrap around the limb in a tight grip. Without hesitation, the Ecrosian attempts to chomp further on the appendage, trying to twist and break the tiny bones beneath the trespasser's taut grey flesh. Her right limb pricks skin and fur. She attempts to continue its assault, trying to draw her talons deep and down along the flesh. Unfortunately, the opponent's hind claws kicked up into the long-toothed woman's gut, stealing away her breath for a moment. She snarled at the blossoming bruises and likely wounds. However, she was determined to mangle the trespasser's limb as punishment, and so she stubbornly ( and perhaps foolishly ) refused to let go.

Erna vs. @Neèra
Dominance
Round 3 / 3
Hits:

Rolling 5d20: 11 + 16 + 14 + 8 + 13

Dodges:

Rolling 5d20: 4 + 12 + 2 + 17 + 15

Luck:

Rolling 5d20: 17 + 10 + 2 + 3 + 15

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A joyous thing it is to play devils advocate. She does not belong here, yet she will make her presence known. Demand a place amongst their coven and reap the riches that they sow amongst their watching trees. She wonders for a brief moment how time will tell this story. Of the serpent who infiltrated the garden, and Eve's determination to not be perceived as weak. There is a certain sickening joy that floods her system as the sound of breath leaving one's lung filters unto the air with the strike of a bullet to the gut. It is sickening to think of such a thing as a drug, but it is the most intoxicating sound that she can find amongst the whims of battle. Her prices are paid in tenfold - a debt to be given to the hand of the vagrant dog that commands their violence and watches from the trees. She feels how teeth tear unto skin, ripping violently upon her precious leg. It is evident in this time that the woman refuses to let her go without something to account for - and so she intends to do the same. With a willful intake of breath, exhaustion settles heavily in the muddied woman's mind. Neèra would attempt to unlatch her left forearm from Erna's neck. Without much thought, the frail woman would attempt to lunge her head forward to grasp the mottled woman's jugular between bloodied incisors. Not in an intent to kill or harm, a gentle grasp nonetheless but to simply say - I win. A crackling pop sounds before them, drowned out between the rush of blood and partial deafness within her mind. Pain shreds throughout her limbs as bones fracture in an uncanny and unnatural way - lurching a pain of cry from the Romans lips as the depths of her right ankle fall within shards before Erna's assault.

@Erna vs. Neèra
for dominance
Round iii of iii
Hits:

Rolling 4d20: 5 + 4 + 20 + 13

Dodges:

Rolling 6d20: 13 + 20 + 14 + 15 + 12 + 3

Luck:

Rolling 5d20: 14 + 15 + 7 + 13 + 3

Wounds:
GIRL ANKLE BROKE LOL RIP
Ouchies on her tummy
Booty Slashes ooh lala
HEY MY TAIL

@Erna VS. @Neèra FOR DOMINANCE
— RESULTS —

Erna Hits: 2+4+4+1 Luck = 11
Erna Dodges: 2+2+3 = 7

Neèra Hits: 2+3+2+1 Luck = 8
Neèra Dodges: 3+3+5 = 11

Erna Successful Hits: 0
Neèra Successful Hits: 1

@Neèra 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.

Her jaws clasp tight onto the limb, like an iron bear trap, refusing to let go without taking what she'd wanted to take. The bones and ligaments continue to shift beneath, spurring on the vicious banshee to grip tighter. The intruder, however, do something completely unpredictable: sacrifices her ankle, in order to access Erna's neck.

The bone between her teeth shatters with a satisfactory crackle, and the bearish woman retracts from her position, jumping back and away from the woman's lurching jaws. She doesn't want to risk her life, not here, not now. She had caused more damage than she'd anticipated, which was a win in her book. Of course, Erna's retraction doesn't leave her unscathed. The grey trespasser's teeth graze her chin, droplets of blood trickling down. Snarling, she stood on the defensive. Who are you?! She demanded, her coarse voice rising high. You have three seconds to fucking tell me who you are before I break your other leg. It was a warning.

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