ooc:  At the time of my post you failed to respond to any of Katja's attacks.  As such the attacks had to be assumed as landed.  This decision was reviewed by the judging committee and approved by the head judge.

EDIT:  Removing the bit about the entrails.  BAM never happened. Sorry for being catty, but I did do my research before I posted.

Oh, this certainly was a treat!  Aern's eyes drank in the battle, her attention divided equally between spectating this clash of titans and the other spectators.  One never knew when they'd become the next target and she hated being taken by surprise.  The first victor would be the sleek, ebony woman who fought more viciously than any wolf Aern had encountered in quite some time.  Breath-taking in her violence, those bright silver eyes cutting into her opponent like blades, teeth rendering flesh, tearing into the russet woman as if she were nothing more than prey.  A hapless doe being torn to shreds.  Jaws sawed through the foolish bitch as the viking stole the womans eyes as well.  Beautiful…. simply stunning…. she wanted to fight this beast with ever fiber in her being!  But it would be best if the other wasn't nursing injuries.

The russet woman limped off to die but she was already gone from the goddess' mind.  Lavender eyes turned to the victor as she moved toward the woman, dipping her head in greeting and to show she had no plans to attack.  "Marvelous show… I haven't seen a warrior fight with such ferocity since I've been here.  I am truly impressed.  My name is Aerndís Thyre, a gladiator of distant lands and I would very much to battle you when you've healed." She grinned.  Aern sought the thrill of battle wherever she went and sought the opponents that could destroy her.  Only by fighting those stronger than she would she please the spirits of battle and earn her place in the after life. Only then could she grow sdtronger. "But that is a wish for another time I suppose… have you any interest in joining a pack?  I'm of Arcanum, a war-like pack to the West and we're always on the hunt for able bodies."


"Speech"

 

Blood dripped from her jaws, congealed upon the darkness of her pelt, and her eyes burned with a righteous light as she watched the orange bitch stagger away with both eyes slashed through. The ruined mess that was once the Ludicael alpha's gaze was a triumph, but Katja did not smile. The voice of a woman whose arrive Katja had only barely noted within the haze of battle drew her attention away from the stumbling, broken retreat. "Perhaps one day we shall meet in battle. Perhaps one of us shall send the other to the halls of Valhalla," she mused in response. "But I cannot join your pack. The Finnvi wolves shall be beholden to none others in this life. If you will excuse me, I have a slave to collect." She inclined her head just a touch to the russet-hued warrior, filing away her face and her pack scent to consider at a more convenient time. Silver-ticked hackles flat now the viking stalked toward the group that had gathered around her captive. Her gaze dismissed the red yearling - a relative of Solo's perhaps? Possibly even a littermate? They were the same age - and the male who hovered protectively over her captive. The young male pup she narrowed her eyes at covetously... a sturdy young male like that would make for a much better slave than this quivering girl. Ignoring the red bitch hovering over him as though she could protect him, Katja stalked closer and cocked her head curiously. His coloring was remarkably like her own, almost startlingly from the black and gray over most of his coat to the silver of his eyes. Were the gods sending her a sign? Wary of Loki's tricks, she did not immediately lay claim to the boy. "You are going to be a warrior one day," she rumbled, gaze locked to his. "You could be a far greater one if you were not tucked away in a forest like a possession. If, perhaps, you were to live unencumbered by their... babying." She hummed thoughtfully, and withdrew from her close proximity to turn her head to regard her cousin battling so gleefully against the white wraith of the forest. She shook her head, but did not involve herself. Though it was a pleasure to fight beside her blood, Kapra was no weak mewling child in need of her hovering over him. He did the family proud. So must she. Tongue absently cleaning her muzzle of its thick coating of blood she stared hawkishly at the girl she'd claimed, and the male who hovered protectively over her. A father perhaps. Strange that he hadn't attempted to simply drag the girl away while the Ludicael woman had engaged her attention. For the best... for him... as she would have simply tracked them and taken back what was hers - and likely have claimed him as well for the trouble caused. "You are unwelcome here," she spoke dismissively, her words suddenly directed to the red-furred brat who frothed so angrily at the others gathered. "Unrequired your presence is, and a distraction to... business." ""

A slave. The man would bristle, feeling his aggitation rise. What right did this woman have to try and lay claim to his child? What right did she have to try and take Mystic away from her family, from the ones who loved her? Kar would bristle, feeling the grow rising in his throat. This woman was getting involved in a family whom was not hers to tamper with. Kar would not forgive this, no, he most certainly would not. He would wrap his head around his daughter, feeling his aggression rise.

Another woman ran towards him, her threat an empty thing. His green gaze would shift to the red woman, giving a sigh. “I am not threatening the boy. I’m merely here for my daughter, no more, no less.” The sounds of the fighting continued by them, and when Kar lifted his gaze he was met with silver hues. The woman’s words were finally met with a growl of the man, his gaze glowering like a beast.

“Business? And what buisness do you dare try to deal, hm? Trying to steal away children. You mark my words, if you dare hurt my daughter I will ensure you rue the day you even thought to approach one of the Savvil line.” The man was no great warrior, but his mother had been strong, as had his father. If he had to he would fight for Mystic, though not before telling her mother of what he needed to do. He would not have the rest of his family endangered.

There is indistinguishable passion in his frenzied movements, in the graceful shifting of his body as he turns to his left, aiming to tear the flesh that holds his opponent's forelimb in place. Though he feels the rewarding sensation of fur against his teeth, she shifts quickly, turning perpendicular to him. His jaws continue to snap, aiming at the flesh of her right side, begging to taste the blood of this woman who seemed to appear from nowhere. She shifts quickly to force her chest to collide with his shoulder as she shifts, slamming into him, sending a rush of pain through his left forelimb.

And that is when he stumbles.

Backwards, slightly, just enough to lose his composure for a moment. His paws move backward suddenly, feeling his weight suddenly fall off balance, allowing her jaws to grasp above his neck, tightening painfully around his spine. Her hold on him is strong, and though he begins to writhe beneath her grasp, it is futile; his small misstep was enough for her to gain control over him. A snarl erupts from his throat, jaws parting as he attempts to shake free from her grasp, a fury igniting within his chest and refusing to relinquish its hold on him. He knows he has failed them -- the brute feels the warm, familiar taste of blood spreading where her jaws had landed, tearing flesh, seeping through his thick fur -- and yet he knows the gods must be pleased with Katja, for the air is thick with the smell of blood and it certainly is not her own...

(No need to judge this post, already know the outcome I want. Off with his tail! Hopefully Aly is fine with this. Thanks! )

Attention remained fixed on the raven woman and her talk of battle and something of Valhalla.  Aerndís couldn't help but wonder if they shared similar beliefs.  She of her spirits and the viking of this Valhalla…. but all the same their battle, if it was to occur, would be put on hold and her offer of joining Arcanum would fall to the wayside as well. "Very well." The gladiatrix shrugged and let her attention turn to the still dueling pair of warriors.  Honestly, she wasn't really expecting anyone to except her offer she was in the vicinity and figured Cataleya would appreciate her attempts to recruit more skilled warriors.  Although… she had said there was a slave shortage at Arcanum's last meeting.  Gaze shifted to the remaining male and the red female, lavender eyes lingering on the boy for a moment.  She wasn't all that enthralled with slave collecting.

With thrashing violence the second fight soon came to a close.  How poetic that one victor was black as the silken night and other a white and fridgid as winter itself.  Quaint really.  She stood back watching the drama unfold.  Oh, this was fun!  All she needed was a good bone to chew on and she could watch this play out all day.  

Aerndís approaches the white woman's right side, leaving a good six feet between them so as not to encroach on her personal space. "Another impressive battle.  In my time I have not seen the equal of you two.  When you're healed I should like to fight you as well… but at the moment I'm just inquiring if you've any interest in joining a pack of warlike minded individuals such as yourself, hm?" Surely, it never hurt to ask?

"Speech"

 

Keeping her eyes locked to the male, Katja allowed her ears to flick back to listen to the sounds of the battle behind her, twitching to also draw in any sign that the red bitch had moved from her rabidly protective stance over the god-touched boy - the pair had neither left as she'd invited them to, but they had not moved against her, and nor did she hear her cousin approaching. Very well. Her more people-oriented other half was not finished. She could still perform the function of trader. She would have to be.... diplomatic. "Your daughter is a captive of the Finnvi and as such subject to our commands." Her words were cold, blunt, and... probably not very diplomatic at all. Eyes were likewise cold steel as they stared into his. "She is no longer a Savvil, if that be your family name, but is a thrall. She will be sold and should fetch a..." Her eyes touched upon the girl, though her brow raised skeptically. "... a fair price, for a soft, spineless Alacratian. Of course, as you have a sentimental attachment to the girl, I assume, we would be willing to let you have her back - for a price greater than she would fetch elsewhere." The blood slicking her cheek and muzzle had begun to clot and grow cold, the wounds beginning to ache as adrenaline wore thin, but the viking maintained her hawkish glare. "If you refuse the price... I leave now and you get no such second chance to pay a ransom and the girl will be marked a thrall and sold." ""

OOC:  *points sharply to "previous" previous post and throws confetti*  Jup's alive!



"The pack is named Arcanum, you're more than welcome to swing by should it tickle your fancy… but it's getting late and I see there's some… business I should attend to."  Aern dipped her head to dismiss herself from the others presence before sliding up next to the viking woman's side.  "I doubt a simple peasant can offer you what a pack can."  She was half tempted to buy the girl and bring her back to Cataleya but Arcanum was already saturated with wolves and she was not sure the girl was worth the trouble or worthy enough to present to her Queen.  There was an ally though of Arcanum that would surely be interested and Aern?  Oh, Aern was always happy to rest her eyes on that blue-tinged mass of eye candy.

"I happen to know that Imperium is collecting slaves, in fact I've some business there my self and I'd be more than happy to escort you.  If you'll follow me…."

Listening made Kar angry... fumming. He would breathe in deeply, jaw set in a stern manner. This woman, damn her, annoyed him. But Kar could not act immediately, not before he spoke with his mate. Mystic was not his only child after all, and the man loved his family. All the same though... his tongue could not be fully stilled, and his voice left his maw in a growl. "You have a lot of balls, don't you? Claiming some small child you doesn't even know how to fight yet. Some proud warrior you are." Kar threw the words at her. Ears were pinned back, and he let a snarl rumble in his chest. "As for your price, I am not at leisure to simply decide that on my own. I have a mate, other children. I take their feelings into consideration, and damn you if you think it's spineless to do so. I wish to speak with you again, another time, another place. Soon. We'll discuss your price and means there, if it so pleases the warrior?" He had to buy just a bit of time. Siri please he just needed a little more time. He was fighting with himself to scream flat out no at her... to even bargain with her. His mind was panicked... hurting... but he could not act yet. Not yet. Speech, Thought

(As Aly has posted that she is leaving the site and I already submitted, I'm assuming the tail removal has gone through and PPing that attack.)

** WARNING slightly graphic, foul language. **

Pain, fierce and white-hot, flooded through him suddenly. In a moment of weakness he had stumbled, and his mistake was quickly taken advantage of. He felt the sharp teeth clamping down on his tail, jaws shaking vigorously from side to side. He felt adrenaline coursing through him, felt blood draining from his body as the bitch chewed his tail like a chew toy. He would struggle against her grasp, but he had been shoved to the ground, her weight bearing down on him just enough so that he could not rise quickly enough to escape from her attack.

The normal reaction would’ve been to weep, to cry out in pain, to beg for mercy -- but Kapra was far from normal. Instead he began to laugh. Manic, jovial laughter as he felt his own cartilage snapping under his opponent’s jaws. Oh, the pain was sweet… painful, but sweet nonetheless. Only victory might be sweeter. His vision begins to waver as he turns his head, searching for his cousin. A mess of blood paints the earth, but the scent is not of Katja’s blood. For the gods he has bled, and for the gods he will continue to bleed; ceaselessly, until every last drop of his blood stains the earth. And despite his failures, he knows he has pleased them, and eve more than that he knows that Katja has undone some of their wrongs. The initial adrenaline begins to course through him and subdue just as quickly, and the laughter softens as his world begins to slip away from him.

Through his hazy vision he saw her then. A woman with a dusty brown coat and a white marking splattered across one of her eyes, turning to leave. Oh, she was a strong, gorgeous thing… a fighter if he’d ever seen one. Jaws unhinged, visibly salivating as he watched her, his chest heaving from the battle that he had lost. He was a picture of mania, of bloodlust and intensity as he stared, his eyes wide and unblinking as he saw her.

“Freyja må ha sendt deg til meg,” he mutters under his breath, slipping into a tongue that he has not spoken in some time. "En gave fra gudene, sikkert ..." There was no doubt in the zealous brute's mind that she had been sent her for him, to signal that they had somehow won the favor of the gods. Perhaps his tail had been a sacrifice of sorts... a token of his unwavering devotion, of the fact that he would give them anything until he was nothing but a pile of bones and blood.

“I haven’t seen a woman so... fuckable in quite some time…" Eyelids batted slowly as he felt his consciousness fading. Slowly he would struggle to rise, slinking to her unsteadily, blood draining from what was left of his tail to cast a trail behind his staggering form as he attempts to close the distance between the two of them. There was a hunger in his voice, despite the weakness that crept into his deep tones.“Hvordan skulle jeg gjerne for deg å ha din vei med meg..." His lips were still turned upward in a smile as he looked the stranger up and down once more. “If you find me again, I swear I will be yours.” There was nothing romantic in his lyrics, nor in his intentions; he was depraved and in his delirious state, all he could think of was the warmth of a woman and the pleasure that being on top of one might bring to him.  A weak laugh was offered before he began to crawl away, fatigued and quickly growing delirious from blood loss, but knowing he had to find Katja as quickly as possible before he fell entirely unconscious and left to bleed here among enemies.

The pale woman didn't seem particularly intent on answering and moved to leave so Aerndís shrugged and turned her attention elsewhere. She'd take that as a no. Turning she moved to leave as well now that the excitement was dying down and it was clear she would not get her fight. It was then the man who had been deprived of his tail began to speak to her in some foreign tongue.

I haven’t seen a woman so... fuckable in quite some time…

Aerndís nearly choked as she processed his words and then she laughed. Well, well, what spirit! Normally, she would not bother with the losers but here was a man who had just been deprived of his tail, was bleeding everywhere and still had the gall to hit on her. Tongue ran languidly over ivory fangs and she examined him. A handsome man, just her age. A bit small for her usual taste but his spirit would more than make up for it and the temptation to ravage the smaller male was starting to burn in her gut. He struck her as the type that could go for hours.

"So many appointments to keep…." She moved forward to meet him, seeking to close the distance between them just for a moment. "I will carry your words with me, even I do not understand all of them and if we cross paths again.." She moved to try and whisper in his ear. "I will make you beg my name."

Stepping away she nodded to the viking woman, to the unfortunate male and to the child sheltered by the odd red woman. What an interesting day this was turning out to be and she moved to head for Imperium, waiting on the vikings and the slave to be ready for their escort.

-exit-

"Speech"

The males snarled words brought little reaction, though she turned her head to study the youngling with healthy skepticism before she returned her attention to the male. "Nearly a yearling she is and she has not learned to fight?" She shook her head and unspoken were the words not my problem. "A day, no more, to pay a ransom and have the child returned to you. Once that day passes so does your opportunity." Without moving her head she barked out at the thrall once more, "Come!" And the gods knew that she would scar that young face if she disobeyed after all the trouble Katja had gone through to obtain her. Black-booted paws spun her dismissively away from the male, ghosting toward the blood-crazed form of her cousin as he attempting to claw his way after Aerndis like a stag in rut. She gave a purely internal sigh at his words and moved to prop him up as she surveyed him. He had sacrificed, blood and bone and flesh, his offering to Odinn the all-father who would seat Kapra among the heroes of his hall for his valor in battle if he judged him worthy after death. Though perhaps this was not Kapra's time to die, but merely a test of his strength and conviction. "Die Götter mit Ihnen freuen, Vetter," she murmured to him as she braced him. "Sie machen Ihre Familie stolz." Grabbing his scruff in her teeth to keep him on his feet she led him off after the warrior from Arcanum, her silver eyes keeping close watch upon the thrall to be sure she followed; did she not, the viking would drop Kapra to thrash the child as she rightly deserved. ""

Mystic could hear the conversations that surrounded her ears. Her father only had a day?! She whimpered and nudged her cranium into his chest. She knew that one of her siblings would want her gone, to finally be the favorite of their fathers. A twinge of pain and suffering surrounded her eyes as her crimson eyes met her fathers, sadness was all the emotion that she could feel right now. She would be a slave if he did not win her back, and she was worried that since she was going to be turning a year old in a couple months, she would not wish for herself to be sold into slavery, to be hurt or even used as a sex toy. The thought made her shake with utter fear and resentment. "Please...help me father..." She would say, tears running down her eyes as she happened to turned her head for the black woman told her to come. She had no choice as she walked away, following the woman, sometimes even turning her head to look at her father one more time, worried that it would be the last time she would ever see him, her mother, her sister, and even her brother.

Still he feels the pain, ebbing through his body, growing stronger as adrenaline slowly drains from him and fatigue takes over. Though slowly losing consciousness, his attention was able to focus on the woman who had begun to spoke to for a moment longer as he heard her voice once again, this time directed towards himself. Feebly he smirked, a devilish expression appearing from amongst the saliva and blood that coated his face, peering at her with his wild green stare. "I await the day," he would mumble groggily, feeling the pressure of Katja against his shoulder as he managed to scramble to her side.

Her words were comforting and he found himself growing soothed in her presence, even as she tugged at his scruff to keep him more upright. She was proud and he had little doubt that they were now in their gods' favor. For the blood they had shed, for Katja's undeniable victory. Slowly his vision grew dull, his attention shifting, unaware of most things around him save for the firm pressure of his cousin against him and the pain that seared through his lower half. "Such a good, soft little girl..." he would mumble almost drearily, finding himself grinning again as his limbs wobbled beneath him. For now he would persevere, knowing they had a task at hand, but all he could picture was drifting to sleep and perhaps finding someone to help clean his tail... or, what was left of it. He'd never had much use for one anyway...

-exit Kapra-

A day. A day would be all he would need to decide... to speak with Nalyda of their choice. Not his, not hers alone, but theirs. Mystic was their daughter, and Siri knew Kar would die for his child. But he was no monster, and he was no viking. He would not steal another simply because this woman wished for another, "better" slave. He was not a monster... a man who would ruin the life of another. He would never be that man. How his heart ached listening to his daughter, but he would speak no more on the subject to this viking. There was no time left for talking... only business remained. He would breathe in, and Kar would lick Mystic's ear, whispering soothingly. "Be strong, my child. Siri guards your heart, your spirit. They are two things that these wolves can never take from you. I will call in the morn, and things will be set right, Siri willing. Just listen to her until then... and know that I love you. I swear, Mystic, I will come for you." His whispered words were strong with resolve, and Kar would lift his head, gaze hardening as he watched the viking woman leave. 'This is not over, viking. This is far from over. To mess with others is one matter, but when you mess with my family you mess with me. This will be settled in your way -- with blood.' A soft grunt left the man and he spun on his paws, heading home towards the orchard. He would calm himself and speak to Nalyda... and they would decide. Speech, Thought