Eyes gleaming predatorily like polished emeralds, the monochromatic woman traversed the bloodied plain of the Battlefield. The metallic tang of old blood hung heavy in the air, and she relished the anticipation that seemed to see into her very flesh and bone.

As she came to a stop, Absinth stood undaunted, her senses attuned to the quiet, nares testing the air for an opponent; her heart pulsating with a delighted rhythm that sought challenge. For too long she had been playing good. With the members of her band, now pack, and now she only desired the taste of blood and the thrumming of her heart in her ears.

With a howl that pierced the stillness of the night, Absinth called out to the void, her voice a symphony of invitation. The sound reverberated across the plain, carried by the wind like a harbinger of chaos. Now all she had to do was wait and see what it brought her.

wormwood

Basilisk came to the battlefield, armed to the teeth and ready to spill some blood. He’s been playing nice since he took the Armada throne. Stepping carefully around his extremely large family. He knew they watched him carefully after his show down with Kyanite, former Princess and daughter to his grandfather.

But he didn’t want to be careful, he wanted to up the stakes. Here, he wasn’t a Warlord, he was just a wolf looking for something to sharpen his teeth against. The wolf who’s call he answered was a white creature, with a black mask and sharp emerald eyes. He stopped a polite distance from her, and smiled. The expression wasn’t entirely friendly.

“I’ll take that challenge. How nice should I play with you?” He asked, raising a brow, his voice a silky dare.

"Basilisk Fatalis"

Absinth's emerald eyes gleamed with intense intrigue as a brute so large, adorned in armor and armed for battle, emerged onto the blood-soaked plain. She watched him carefully, almost tasting the aura of power that surrounded him – he was a beast and she was fascinated. Beneath his polite presentation, Absinth detected a hunger similar to her own, a desire to break free. Perfect. His smile, though not entirely friendly, ignited a thrill of excitement within her – a challenge she eagerly accepted with a flick of her charcoal tail.

She returned his gaze with a steely resolve, her lips curling into a smirk as she took a step closer, closing the distance between them. The air crackled with anticipation, charged with the tension of two predators facing each other, each hungry for challenge. "How gentle do you intend to be?" Absinth taunted, her voice dripping with amusement. "I like it rough. If you don’t mind." Her words carried a sultry challenge as she unsheathed her blade with a flick of her wrist, clenching it between her jaws; the moonlight dancing off its gleaming surface. Assuming a defensive stance, her fitted armor rippled over her chest with the rhythm of her exhilarated breaths, ready for the impending clash. Then, with a sly wink of a warlike emerald, she beckoned the brute to make the first move.

wormwood

She did not quake beneath the challenge of his question. She seemed intrigued by it. Here was a wolf who would not break easily, who would not expect or require gentleness from him. He did not have to prove to her that he was a tame wolf, one you could trust your family to.

She stepped a little closer, ”Let’s leave gentle at the door” he suggested, pushing a little further. He was clear, very clear with his intentions. If she wanted to cry about it later, she couldn’t say he didn’t warn her. He grinned at her last comment, sealing the deal. This fight would be exactly what he needed to let out a little steam.

His eyes flicked to the blade at her wrist. The craftsmanship looked strikingly familiar. He didn’t let it distract him. Drawing his eyes slowly up her body, taking in what she wore, and assessing it. When she beckoned him forward, he moved. And he moved quickly, for a wolf his size. His dragon-like eyes missed little as he dove at her. He lowered his upper body as he angled himself in an attempt to drive his shoulder spurs into the side of her shoulder/neck. At the same moment, his long curved neck lifted over, aiming for the spot just behind her ears with his elongated fangs.

Basilisk vs Absinth for minor neck scarring
Round 1/?
Age: Over one
Size: Paleo species
Build: Balanced
Offensive Battle Accessory: Shoulder Spurs
Defensive Battle Accessory: Leather Faux Wings
Companion 1: Peregrine Falcon, Female - Battle - Boosted
Companion 2: Miniature reindeer, Male - Battle - Boosted
*Companion 3: Wyrm, Female, 50", Boosted
Mutation 1: Bone spurs - Defensive
Mutation 2: Elongated fangs - Offensive
Mutation 3: Lizard eyes- Perception
Skills: Master Fighter & Master Hunter
Specialty: Bloodletter

"Basilisk Fatalis"

Absinth's emerald gaze remained steady, unyielding. Instead of shrinking back, she leaned in, her interest piqued. Here stood a brute she could get along with. He understood what she sought here. With a coy tilt of her head, she accepted his suggestion, her resolve hardening. "Gentle has no place here." She agreed, her voice laced with a daring edge. She understood his intentions, his promise of intensity, and she welcomed it without hesitation. No tears would be shed from her. Had they ever since she was a young pup?

His grin in response only fueled her anticipation, confirming their agreement. This confrontation would be a release of pent-up energy, a clash of wills and strength that both craved. Fantastic.

As his gaze lingered on the blade at her side, Absinth remained composed, refusing to be distracted. She watched him closely, assessing his movements and what he would do next, the tension coiling within her muscles like a tightly wound spring. And when he answered her call to action, she met his charge head-on, her instincts honed for the dance of combat. She quickly realized his size did not mean he lacked agility. Not at all.

With speed and precision in tandem, he surged forward, his massive form closing the distance between them in an instant. Her heart beat once, twice, her inky lips curling to reveal her teeth in a grin gritted out from exhilaration alone. She felt the impact of his shoulder spurs against her, a jolt of adrenaline coursing through her veins as the flesh of her neck ripped against the brunt of his strength. But she was ready, the pain snarled away past the knife in her jaws as the fae shifted her weight to absorb the blow as best she could while she countered with a swift maneuver of her own. Her knife jabbed outwards, trying to catch him on the neck or scruff in return. He was one big motherfucker, but she had never limited herself to smaller opponents in her life. Bring it on.

As his fangs aimed for the vulnerable spot behind her ears, she tried to twist away, narrowly avoiding the lethal strike. Her acidic emeralds flashed as she spotted an opening. In one fluid motion, she retaliated, attempting to dive away from his reach and aiming a calculated strike at his exposed flank, her blade slicing through the air with deadly intent to make its mark.

Absinth vs Basilisk for Minor Scarring
Round 1/2
Age: Over 1
Size: Large
Build: Balanced
Offensive Battle Accessory: Knife bracers
Defensive Battle Accessory: leather armor
Companion 1: Raven, Female - Battle
Companion 2: Raven, Male - Battle
Skills: Master Fighter & Master Intellectual
Specialty: Juggernaut
wormwood

The moment the fight was brought into close quarters, he could really feel how tiny she was. He almost felt he could knock her over with a single well timed blow. But where would be the fun in that? This battle was about the dance as much as it was the blood and violence. He felt his spurs sink in, and the skin tear from the pressure of her movements. There was already blood in the air, and he could smell it, sweet and salty on the tip of his tongue.

In retaliation, her blade found his scruff, but he forced her to reach up for it as he surged upwards and forward as he attempted to grab the silky skin behind her ears. Her blade hit true, sinking into his flesh. They were one for one now, blood on their fur and on their weapons. The scent fresh in the barren landscape of old wounds. She twisted away from him, and with the shift he attempted to snake forward and lick at the blood formed from his shoulder spur accessories. She was in that moment aiming for his flank. He didn’t try to stop her, instead his dragon-like eyes caught the motion, and he kicked up his back leg, aiming to suddenly jab the natural bone spur that sat there into the joint where her foreleg met her shoulder.

“You taste like fine wine.” He teased, whispering in her ear like lovers as they did their best to bleed each other.

Basilisk vs Absinth for minor neck scarring
Round 2/2
Age: Over one
Size: Paleo species
Build: Balanced
Offensive Battle Accessory: Shoulder Spurs
Defensive Battle Accessory: Leather Faux Wings
Companion 1: Peregrine Falcon, Female - Battle - Boosted
Companion 2: Miniature reindeer, Male - Battle - Boosted
*Companion 3: Wyrm, Female, 50", Boosted
Mutation 1: Bone spurs - Defensive
Mutation 2: Elongated fangs - Offensive
Mutation 3: Lizard eyes- Perception
Skills: Master Fighter & Master Hunter
Specialty: Bloodletter

"Basilisk Fatalis"

Absinth's pulse quickened with the thrill of battle, her senses overwhelmed by the metallic tang of her own blood and the rush of adrenaline surging through her veins. She craved more. More action. More intensity. This was exactly what she had needed. An outlet for all her restraint. Despite the pain of his spurs digging into her flesh, she suppressed the pain, focusing solely on her next move. It was easy, for she was no stranger to agony. Her blade found its mark within his scruff and she spared no brutality in her execution of the slice, drawing blood in retaliation. A lack of gentleness that she knew would please him.

Dodging his advance with fluid grace, Absinth manipulated her lithe body to strike back. Her blade poised for a calculated blow that would surely cut deep – but her attack was thwarted by a bone spur jabbing from his rear leg towards her shoulder. What could she do? In a swift movement, she attempted to deflect it with her knife, though it forced her to momentarily halt her assault as she braced to absorb his otherworldly strength. But in doing so, a new consequence appeared. A wickedly delightful one. The brute's warm breath brushed against her charcoal ear, speaking taunting words that sent a shiver down her spine, and a mixture of intimacy and savagery stirred within her a twisted pleasure as a result.

With a scoff, Absinth turned her head to meet his gaze, wiping her blade – still stained with his blood – across her wrist with deliberate slowness. "Fine wine?" She retorted, sheathing her weapon and positioning herself face-to-face with him. Raising her fore, she licked at the blood with a painstakingly slow drag of her tongue, maintaining unwavering eye contact, a smirk creeping up from the corners of her lips as she did so. "I’ve been told I taste like every wicked desire one has ever had. What do you think?"

Absinth vs Basilisk for Minor Scarring
Round 2/2
Age: Over 1
Size: Large
Build: Balanced
Offensive Battle Accessory: Knife bracers
Defensive Battle Accessory: leather armor
Companion 1: Raven, Female - Battle
Companion 2: Raven, Male - Battle
Skills: Master Fighter & Master Intellectual
Specialty: Juggernaut
wormwood

And the winner is...

BASILISK

ABSINTH must give up by submitting, fleeing or passing out. Basilisk's maim is successful. Totals: BASILISK: Attack Roll: 97 Defense Roll: 87 Agility Roll: 17 Perception Roll: 33 Total: 234 Attack[97] + 120% Bonus[116.40]: 213.40 Defense[87] + 20% Bonus[17.40]: 104.40 Agility[17] + 0% Bonus[0.00]: 17.00 Perception[33] + 10% Bonus[3.30]: 36.30 Total[371.10] + 40% Bonus[148.44]: 519.54 ABSINTH: Attack Roll: 83 Defense Roll: 46 Agility Roll: 18 Perception Roll: 22 Total: 169 Attack[83] + 55% Bonus[45.65]: 128.65 Defense[46] + 15% Bonus[6.90]: 52.90 Agility[18] + 0% Bonus[0.00]: 18.00 Perception[22] + 25% Bonus[5.50]: 27.50 Total[227.05] + 25% Bonus[56.76]: 283.81

“That’s rather a broad spectrum of taste. Not very unique” he teased her lightly as the battle came to an end. He as the clear victor. In truth, he needed the win. Now that he was the Warlord, the stakes had raised and the pressure was on. He could feel it building inside of him every passing day. This fight had been a nice respite, a release of it. But it was over now, and he was almost regretful of it. It had been too quick, and not enough bloodshed.

He bared his fangs at her in a smile. “If you ever want a rematch, you can find me in the Armada. For you, I’ll find the time.” He promised her.


"Basilisk Fatalis"

Absinth chuckled softly at his response, finding herself unexpectedly entertained by the exchange with this stranger who had proven himself a worthy adversary. There was a charm to his teasing retort, a bit of wit and confidence that she could appreciate. A flick of her tail as she began to step in a half circle around him,

“Touche,” She replied, a smirk playing at the corners of her lips. “Perhaps I'll have to work on refining my taste then.” The banter flowed easily between them, a lighthearted reprieve from the intensity of their battle. Despite the outcome, Absinth found herself enjoying the interaction. It was the battle she needed, the moment to let loose that her soul had craved. God, packs were so suffocating.

His offer of a rematch brought a mischievous glint to her eyes, a promise of future encounters with this beast-like man that she couldn't resist. “Count on it.” She replied, her voice full of challenge and promise. “My name is Absinth. I know the Armada’s market and woods, I’ll have no trouble finding you there.” She began, offering him a crooked grin of her own. “You’ll find the time? What, pack duties are so easy to push aside for a stranger?” She purred, the monochromatic woman ceasing her movement to step up and face him directly – but damn he was tall. She had to crane her neck just to meet his azure gaze. Really, she thought he was just another warrior. A big, impressive fucking warrior.


wormwood

He grinned, wondering what exactly she would have to do to achieve just that. Perhaps stop surrounding herself with the people that describe her taste as every sin under the sun, for starters. She moved, half circling him. He held still, watching her move with barely a flick of his eyes. He was tall enough to have plenty of vantage in line of sight, as it was.

“Do you?” He asked, surprised and amused. He didn’t recognise her scent from the Market, but the scents there were fleeting with the traffic of travellers. He had been on duty at the market often, but everyone needed a break. “Who would contradict the Warlord?” He teased, eyes dancing as they looked down at the tiny wolf.

"Basilisk Fatalis"

Her tail swished behind her as she circled, a playful gesture mirroring the dance of their conversation. Despite their differences, there was a shared understanding here, a recognition maybe, of the thrill that came from testing each other's limits.

He remarked on her claim of knowing the Armada's market and woods, to which Absinth laughed softly – mischievously. “Oh, I do indeed!” She replied, her voice carrying a touch of mystery. All in good fun, right? She briefly wondered how little Wylan was doing, with his… wings.

She tilted her head up to meet his gaze, a delinquent glint in her eyes as she continued to hold his gaze. Despite his towering stature, she refused to back down, meeting his taunts with a coy confidence that betrayed her size comparatively. At the moment, she felt alive, liberated. But Warlord? That was a surprise. What had become of Sirius? “The last opponent I faced from there was Sirius Fatalis.” The lithe fae did not falter as she spoke, but neither did she know of Armada’s politics. Sirius had been an old man, perhaps this beast of a man was his successor if he called himself Warlord now?

wormwood