THE KING'S TOURNEY

The afternoon deepened into the early shades of evening, the sun still clinging to its audience of the warriors who had been shaped by the trials before them - or, perhaps, luck had, had a hand in matters. Regardless of what brought the two wolves together as they stepped into the tournament ring, there were only two options: to fight and secure their place in the next rung of the tournament ladder or to give up, and the roaring crowd's appetite for battle was only whetted by the fermented fruit and berries that swam blissfully within their gullets.

With the sun's rays reined back, the dipping temperatures had begun to solidify the slushy battlefield - though four remained standing within the tournament, the physical act of remaining upright atop slick ice would grow more difficult with every passing second.

Snow had begun to fall, the winds picking up as they cut through Northfall's jagged peaks.

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AMAYA x SHILOH

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SHILOH is attacking first.

RULES

• Each spar is 3 rounds. Before typing out your post, place your dice roll in a post and then edit in your written post. If you are unsure how to roll dice, please see the fields below with each roll code!
  
• The entrant with the highest roll totals at the end of 3 rounds is the winner. They will progress to the next stage of the tournament.
  
• Maiming and death are disallowed UNLESS cleared with your thread partner first.
  
• Each player has THREE DAYS to post for their turn or they will be forced to forfeit the fight. This is imposed to help keep things rolling.
  
• Predetermined winners MAY be chosen, but it must be communicated and agreed upon by both parties in the fight. If you choose to do this, please denote that a winner has been predetermined, you do not have to signal who wins if you wish to maintain the suspense.
  
  
• This battle uses modifiers. Those modifiers are as follows:
  
  ► No Warrior Skills: 1d5
  ► Basic Warrior Skill: 1d6
  ► Specialist Warrior Skill: 1d8
  ► Expert Warrior Skill: 1d10
  
  
  Only ONE modifier can be used
  
  
• If you win a no-modifier fight and your next opponent DOES use modifiers, you will need to decide if you wish to continue or "forfeit" to your opponent. The same rule applies to off-screen fights. If your chosen preference is off-screen fights, you will need to decide between continuing on-screen or forfeiting to your next on-screen opponent.
  
  
• Off-screen fights will roll three d5 in the dice channel in Discord and the one with the highest roll result is the winner. (Command to use: /r 3d5) If you wish to predetermine the winner between yourself and your opponent, that is your choice!
  
  
• Please see the bracket document for a list of fights and progress.
  

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Roll Codes

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None

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Code:

[*roll=1d5]

Basic

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Code:

[*roll=1d6]

Specialist

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Code:

[*roll=1d8]

Expert

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Code:

[*roll=1d10]

Remove the *s to use the code!

SKILL : WARLORD ( 1 / 5 )

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Rolling 1d5: 4

True to its fearsome nature, Northfall had become less hospitable as the day progressed. The world's war drum bellowed with each gust of freezing, snow-bitten wind, joining the drunken crowd's merriment and call for blood from each round of combatants.

Shiloh could feel the day's efforts wear on him, numbed somewhat by a few mouthfuls of fermented fruit he'd partaken in between the last round and the newest one.

When he stepped foot into the ring, he almost lost his opponent's form in the blustering, whipping winds and the fog of disturbed snow. But he couldn't entirely ignore the piercing amethyst-toned eyes and...

What was that smell? It was akin to something rotten, fetid... and it hadn't been there before he'd been downwind from his spar partner. It was a novel technique to place one's enemies off-kilter, but he was more puzzled over what they... were.

They looked like they were meant to be canine, possibly even wolf, but they were so small. How had they gotten so far in the tournament for being so... miniature? It was odd, really - his combatants kept getting smaller with each rung in the ladder he ascended in this ill-fated tournament that was truly just a parade of various nightmares.

His muzzle scrunched against the offensive odor on the air, but he knew the longer he put off contact, the longer this fight would take, and he was eager to have it done with - even if the black wolf-thing looked like some of those evil spirits his mom sometimes talked about.

Without warning, Shiloh surged forward to try and grab the "fragrant" wolf anywhere he could grasp, his jaws arced wide.

[one]

Rolling 1d5: 1

Skill: 「 - 」

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Amaya was somehow “winning”, though in truth, there wasn’t a single thought behind those mysterious, amethyst eyes of hers. Had a fly landed on one, there was a chance she didn’t even flinch. Dissociation was a dangerous and beautiful thing. The gremlin had barely noticed the red beast of a man in front of her, for a few moments he was some weird blur as she began to regain focus on reality.

Big and red.

…

The girl stood still, one eye blinking and then the next. It was almost as if you could see the buffering sign above her head as she stood there. What… did Alder look like again? He was big and red, from what she could recall. This was Alder, right? Yeah. Yeah, that made the most sense. The only big, red guy in the world. Alder. This was Alder. Yes.

While identifying her brother, the gremlin witnessed him burst forward in a powerful rush. She’d never seen their mothers move with such agility, she wondered where he had gotten such abilities. Amaya, overzealous and joyful, shrieked like a suburban coyote in the night. It’s pitch shifting as her mouth stretched the various angles. Sing with her, Alder, sing the song of your people.

The closer he got, Amaya could tell she needed to move, and there was only one place she wished to go. Open jaws from each opponent, their own sounds leaking out. They were beauty. They were grace. If the whole scene was in slow motion, it may have looked like a real fight for .2 seconds. The gremlin’s expression frantic as she leapt to reaction, fending off her attacker, yellowed teeth exposed as if eager to sink into his flesh.

But that was not the story being told, not today.

Amaya dove down and Alder lunged at her — teeth scruffed her nape, but the Eclipse remained focused on the prize. Those juicy, tasty looking ankles. Akin to a starving, rabid dog she began to snap at any part of his leg. Her jowls leaked the mass produced saliva as she wondered what he tasted like. Another yowl as she scrambled to fight his grasp and claim her prize of Ankles™️.

tl;dr : Shiloh has her by the scruff and she is scrambling to chomp them legs

SKILL : WARLORD ( 2 / 5 )

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Rolling 1d5: 4

He was not Alder and he did not know the Elysium wolf, but had he taken the time to dissect her scent, he might have recognized her as being from Elysium. As it was, he tried not to focus on her scent at all, actually.

Something about his opponent struck him as... odd.

The though occurred to him when she screeched into the heavens with a song she clearly thought was melodious, but was more akin to nails on chalkboard in the lion's ears.

Perhaps it was the fountain of drool dripping from her black jowls or maybe the complete autonomy her eyes seemed to have, working independently. As it turned out, it was all of the above and more.

His teeth found purchase on her scruff, but not before she lurched into motion attempting to latch onto his ankles. The dark-furred wolf thrashed in his grip, her own teeth nipping at his legs as he hauled her front quarters up and away from them. Shiloh attempted to keep his hold on her scruff amid her squirming as he made to shake her, hoping it might quiet her feral demeanor.

[Closer]

Rolling 1d5: 1

Skill: 「 - 」

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The rigorous shaking from her brother did not deter her nor did it settle the ferocity of her feral mode. Amaya hissed like an opossum being cornered in a dumpster, yellowed teeth caked with plaque and whatever she’d last chewed on. Oh no, Alder wasn’t going to stop her, not today. While his violent yanking had pried her off of his leg, amethyst eyes still gleamed with a frighteningly hyper-focused obsession. Yes, she was far from done here.

What was the point of this whole thing again? She’d forgotten it was meant to be a battle of combat, too interested in the way Alder’s leg had tasted. Rabidly, the gremlin’s nails sought purchase in the frozen dirt, clawing manically with every ounce of her might to maintain some sense of traction. She was so close. It was right there. Amaya could almost taste it—quite literally, actually.

Whines akin to an excited husky began to screech out as her nails scraped against the earth. Closer. Closer. Closer. Centimeter by centimeter, inch by inch, she was edging near her target, even as her facial features grew taught from the firm grasp he had on her scruff creating tension.

Finally.

She’d made it.

Her end-all goal. It was here.

Amaya lunged forward, tongue hanging out as she forced it between his toes, wriggling about as her drool oozed in each crevice. It tasted different when compared to his leg, but she liked it.

SKILL : WARLORD ( 3 / 5 )

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Rolling 1d5: 4

Somehow, the fight continued to worsen - and not for conventional, expected reasons.

The strange creature he had the misfortune to face leapt for his feet, which she had done since this spar began. But this time, she moved with conviction, purpose.

And she would succeed, if success was indeed what she found in lapping at his toes. The move was so equally unpleasant and sudden that he pressed a startled, Ugh! from his vocal chords as he attempted to fling the dust ball made wolf away from him and pluck his paws out of her reach.

He was only half successful as he stumbled backward, high-stepping as he tried to avoid the dark-coated wolf. Shiloh recalled, almost too late, that this was meant to be a spar and, with a disgusted grunt, he threw himself back into the fray. With jaws widened, he leapt to grab the other wolf's tail and attempt to cast her away from him once and for all before his toes were besieged again.