Connection. His body throbbed from the connection and how he was sure that everything would come crashing down once the fight was finished. He knew that regardless of who lost today, he was going to ache and be sore for a few days. It would be worth it; hopefully. Adeodatus pushed through the exhaustion as he felt her body against his own, his teeth found a purchase in her shoulder a mouthful of fur and blood. It was deliciously intoxicating.

But with pain came a price. Claws crossed over his ankle and by instinct he lifted up to only attempt to shove it into skin, wherever the closest skin was to him. He wasn't thinking much now as he saw teeth coming for his brow and Adeodatus moved away but not in enough time for her teeth to grab his cheek.

Adeodatus vs. @Morrigan ♔
For IS
Round five

Hit:

Rolling 8d20: 17 + 4 + 13 + 7 + 20 + 1 + 16 + 8

Dodge:

Rolling 3d20: 6 + 2 + 13

Luck:

Rolling 5d20: 8 + 7 + 1 + 13 + 5

ART BY IRISH / CODING BY SENTINEL

Why had she not used claws at first was a question even she was asking herself, but she'd not had a moment to retaliate with actual thinking, she just wanted the fucking asshole away from her so she could retaliate. She could agree that she too did not like to talk and fight, it wasted her breath, and only fell on deaf ears, so after her one question, she would be silent talking at least. The collision had her gasp for air, but thankfully she caught her breath as she came back at him, finally she unsheathed her claws and continued to try batting at his face.

He barreled back towards her, jaws aiming for her face causing her to stop her assault towards his face and duck low to the ground, hoping he'd go over her, or at least miss her face. Pressing her stomach close to the ground, she used her hind legs to lurch forward and up, aiming to attempt to use her teeth and wrap her jaws around his back leg/upper hind leg. If she was successful, she would miss the males undercarriage by inches.

@Astarte vs. @Ronin
Dominance
Round 2 / 3
Hits:

Rolling 5d20: 7 + 20 + 1 + 12 + 19

Dodges:

Rolling 3d20: 6 + 18 + 7

Luck:

Rolling 5d20: 11 + 9 + 6 + 20 + 17

ART COPYRIGHT XXX / CODE COPYRIGHT ANALESE

THIS THREAD HAS REACHED
WAR STATUS!

— A war is underway between the factions of
Illyria Summit and Ecrosia Mire —

If happening on a pride territory, this is a reminder that trespassing increases your character’s PVP by one level.

Please remember to read the fight rules on wars, raids, and the fatigue system here, and to post all fights in Fight Updates so that they can be properly logged.

If your character is in a fight or other situations that could impact them post-thread, please be mindful when doing posts that are set after this in their timeline.

What the hell was going on?

Challenges were being issued left, right and centre and Fallon enters the scene much too late. When she reaches the Pit, there is a plethora of battling lions, the Salem woman not too sure where to look. It would appear that the Summit had been challenged for though why there were more skirmishes, the Lorien Noble could not say for certain. The air was thick with the smell of the Mire so the Salem woman assumes that this is a war between the two prides.

She stands on edge, watching the unfolding scene -- wary. She now carries with her more children and Fallon knows it would be unwise to engage in battle. Still, it calls to her and if it were to come to her, who was she to deny the call? She does not carry the same allegiance to Ecrosia that her husband does and in some ways, Fallon had always admired Morrigan so inwardly, she cheers for the lions from the Summit.

table by ferus, art by argenticide

speech


Heart beat rapidly, pumping blood and adrenaline rapidly through his system, the bruising he felt from her paw batting was minimal- for now, but he would certainly be feeling it later. In the thick of things, Ronin was able to push aside pain, a feeling he relatively enjoyed, and focus on the next movement. He did so now, as they continued to part only to re-collide once more, the repeated hammering to his shoulder and chest would leave him sore, his lungs hurting as they expanded for more air.

As he moved back towards her, trying to reach for her face, she would duck down. Jaws would snap shut on air, but they were quick to re-open, ready for another grab. As he came down, she would lurch upward, snapping at his back hind leg. Her teeth sunk into his thigh, causing him to snarl, instinctively his leg would kick forward in an attempt to jar her hold. Simultaneously, his weight would drop just like their previous fight he would attempt to crash his weight down on her fully. Claws would reach for her tender sides in an attempt to latch and hold, a warning. Just like last time. One of them would have to yield. Hopefully she had learned her lesson and wouldn’t tempt him this time.


Ronin vs. @Astarte
For Dominance / For the giggles
Round 3 / 3
Hits:

Rolling 6d20: 15 + 17 + 14 + 20 + 2 + 1

Dodges:

Rolling 3d20: 12 + 8 + 15

Luck:

Rolling 5d20: 5 + 2 + 8 + 15 + 13

speech

Before his friend could speak, another young lioness was coming towards them, his ears fell back, recognizing the posture she displayed as threatening. Azanty immediately ducked his head, ears flattening to his skull. Instantly the boy would decide he did not like her. Her words would come forth and he would narrow his eyes, jaws clenching. Her curt demanding tone would have him snort. Gaze fleetingly darting to @Aemond to see his response to her. She would direct attention to the fights around them, but he let his slitted pupils remain on her, untrusting. He had seen the many fights going on, he didn’t need to look again.

The girl would spit on the ground and the expression on Azanty’s face was one of complete disgust and bewilderment. Was she a crazy lion? The ugly girl would speak again, it would take all of Azanty’s brain power to translate that sentence, her accent so heavy. “Daor- No.” He spat back, lips curling in anger, she was trying to blame his home. “Mirre attack first.” He growled out, tail lashing behind him in annoyance. Who was she to blame them? The challenger had started this. Not the Summit. “Summit won’t…sit quiet…” He struggled with the words, was that the right word for what he was even trying to say? They would not just submit. The Summit was his home, as much as he hated the cold, he didn’t want to lose the first place that had welcomed him.

@Yrsa

ART BY KIM, CODE BY LARS

code & bg-credit

Now this place really knew how to keep things hopping! Sunder hadn't expected to roll up to a land with so much activity, but the woman wasn't mad about it either. She had been lucky to catch glimpses of fights in her old homelands considering she had been nothing but a servant. It was her duty to cater to the royals, any chance of actually watching gladiators take part in battle were slim to none. Seeing how different things were in Amaryllis was like a breath of fresh air for the woman. The Pit was a bustle of activity as she stayed to the outside, instead climbing upward on a high boulder to try to get the best view possible. There were so many fights going on that it was hard to truly keep track of everything. She had no relation to any of these lions, didn't know their qualms with one another, but it didn't matter. A show was a show and she was just along for the ride.

*Sunder is attempting to hide/is observing!

[sleuth exp/doubled thanks to amara]
+10 - Infiltrate a group thread without getting caught
+20 - Remain undetected in a large group thread
+20 - Sneak into a group without getting caught

He may have just returned, but he knows what this call means.

He might not recognize the voice, or the rancid smell the challenger wears, but he knows. Just like he knows that Morrigan will win. She was forged in fire; she had fought worse battles than this. He enters with a cool casualness, a little pep in his step, as he circles the pit -- curious, attentive. It seems he's fashionably late, with fights already sprung up in the crowd and the main event seemingly winding down.

A shame he doesn't recognize more; a shame he's out of the loop. Maybe he should've been a bit more productive with his wanderings. Still, he sits with a wolfish smile -- fangs flashing, glinting in his dangerous maw. Quicksilver eyes are trained, keenly, on his mutter as she fights -- ears notched forward, intent in a way that was wholly at odds with the easy, casual way he held himself.

code; background

SMASH THE CONTROL MACHINE

Was she a crazy lion?

There were crazier, no?

Her etiquette had been in asking before lunging, and already a dire regret that broke over her in a wave. Why not take? Why not shove the Summit boy to the ground, mangle and wrastle and cut? Why ask? Silly questions. Silly diplomacy, standing in the way of wants. It is no way to live.

She watched as his expressions devolved from scorn to disgust as light shifts over the plane of water, his sneer and contemptuous retorts none but a confirmation that manners were useless. Even if he was right, even if the Mire did attack first, this was wilderness and it t h r i v e d inside Yrsa, writhing and wrathful and winter-cold.

Sit quiet. Sit quiet - what ludicrosity, it is what mountains did, sit quiet and stand the test of time, the onslaught of their snow-crested peaks relent to avalanches and the slow crumbling beneath glaciers. She hoped he would not sit quiet beneath the cleave of her claws—

Yrsa has already moved before she can contemplate the finer details. No laugh, no response, not a second more wasted in the useless bar of prudence. Why give further warning? It was a spoil of tactics and a menace to her skill, a nasty habit that needed broken before it began. Before she knows what she is even doing, she is attempting to lunge for Azanty with ears flattened, shoulders forward, her jaws wide and open to the every sharpened edge of its white-hot rage. She tries to bulldoze him with a full-clawed bear hug, simultaneously reaching with the intention to bury her teeth in the flesh of his skull. Nom nom.

Yrsa vs. @Azanty
for theft - Azanty
Round 1 / 3
Hits:

Rolling 3d20: 19 + 14 + 12

Dodges:

Rolling 3d20: 8 + 14 + 5

Luck:

Rolling 5d20: 18 + 12 + 20 + 14 + 19

blood we drunk, flesh we ate

Punctuality doesn't occur to her as of any great importance when it doesn't affect her or her family. And the matters of two prides of whom she held no ties meant she could arrive when she pleased, unhindered by the route of any menial obligations.

As it is, she arrived fashionably late.

Roving, rolling musculature of stretching sinew, the sheen of her ruddy pelt soothed into the pale quarters of her tucked waist. Her tail swept over the dampened ground at her heels, her gait smooth, unhitched, domineering in its pace. Ever observant, the touch of her jade gaze riles over every display of brutish strength and exerted rage the way a famished fiend looks over the delicacies of a high-end buffet.

There is a simper of disappointment however when she sees most are already engaged in their rut, though most are too unfamiliar to bother. Amara is the only face standing in the crowd, but she is too aloof to acknowledge her past the raise of her elegant skull and the curling malice of a leering, toothy smile.

She moved off to observe the plants not smothered by the crowd. They were only the greenery of wilted winter vines, but it was wise to even know them by the shape of their leaves and the bulb-heads of seedpods. Of their ranks she plucked a sprig from baby bush, its leaves growing in sparse but careful spindles, minding the droop of nightshade and the bright sprouts of daffodils. Every so often she turned her eyes to the congregation of battling fiends, studying for new moves, a judge of skills, watching the blood spill across their pelts. They would need a medic, would they not?

Maybe they could pay her with a pound of flesh, after all.

Double exp via Amara til 2/3

+5 Study the flora of a neutral territory
+5 Attend a spar or challenge to assess the wounds
+5 Collect herbs

Possibles:
+10 Set a broken bone
+10 Attempt to heal a wounded roll using the healing dice-roll system, but fail
+10 Heal a character’s sickness or injury
+10 Help a character with a non-physical illness
+10 Participate in a raid or war (actively fighting, healing, or helping others)

that was a core of the innocent hate _{BG — ART — CODE}