Curiousity drew the commoner toward some old pack lands, looking for any possible refugees from the fallen Apollyon empire. The twisted thickets of gnarled spirits were as cold and uninviting as ever. The pack had been claimed by the son of her own sovereign, Valentine. As the thought of the name reeled through the chasms of her mind, the harlot would hiss with venom, tail slashing the air in brief succession before slowing to a gentle sway with the eerie winds. *"Apollyon ? caduto, si rivolse a dell'Imperium. Eppure ci sono ancora sopravvissuti? Forse che l'imperatrice sanguigna e il suo tiranno disinteressato." Fluent Italian lyrics flowed from parted labrums, hushed and quiet, only meant for her own self to hear. The dreams of power and riches drifted, washing away her hateful thoughts entirely. **"Un giorno sar? la mia imperatrice." She had met the silver tyrant before, their encounter most interesting, Did the ghoul still haunt her old domain, or had she moved on with her carmine follower?

*"Apollyon fallen, turned to the Imperium. Yet there are still survivors? Perhaps the sanguine empress and her tyrant remain."

**"Perhaps someday I will be my own empress."

? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? the elysius is indignant, enraged as the feminine perfume of an invader permeates the atmosphere of her misted realm. and the deity detaches herself from her carmine beauty?s enrapturing company with a knowing glower, velveteen lips fluttering to unsheathe the unslaked guillotines that lurk beneath in a silent promise of their unwelcomed guest?s demise. rugged appendages propel the tyrant queen beyond their grotesque chambers? threshold with an aura of ominous contempt as she allows the foreign fragrance to lead her directly to its source, strategically positioning herself downwind of the insipid harlot as triangular ears swivel towards the unknown specter once its accented vocalizations breach the reigning silence of her domain. and her brow yet furrows with confusion as she registers the name of her consort?s former empire upon the ghostly wraith?s tongue, curiosity the sole emotion left to fester within the chasms of her corrupted mind as she contemplates why. ?what of apollyon?? the phantom queen inquires, the cadence of her vocals retaining a hint of DANGER as she unveils her looming presence to the woman whose pallid appearance reflects her own -- albeit with a physique so unimposing { and appealing } in comparison to her own abhorrent and robust. beguiled indifference creeps upon her marred countenance yet her gaze is apt to maintain its disdainful frigidity as it bores into the other?s own violet, demanding answers that she will receive -- one way or the other. table by lu.

And so the Elysius tyrant had stayed in her realm, unwilling to disappear, but it seemed she had been gone in the time it had been up for stakes.  If anything in context to Imperium was mentioned and any member of the four she had in mind found of her encounters with this tyrant, it would be off with her head.  Sharp incisors were openly displayed, lips peeling back with a hint of dangerous threat.  The metallic and amethyst gazes of the two silvery womans would meet, the visage of the warrioress boring into her own.  "Gone."  The ghoul had to be satisfied with such an answer.  The harlot cursed herself silently for even saying the word Apollyon out loud, disappointment racking the chasms of her mind, but physically, she remained calm and collected, her lyrics smooth as always. Amethysts gazed upon the tyrant, looking for any new scars if there were any since their last... encounter.  This was quite the opposite of the former, the tyrant perhaps hoping to use the harlot for insider information.  Maybe in future time, but now was not the best of times to open up vulnerability to herself, Arcanum, and Imperium. my actions | my words | thoughts

? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? suspicion leaks from pallid pores as she gazes upon the nubile whore, a singular brow ascending upon her grotesque countenance as she awaits the inevitable retort. yet as the harlot mutters a single syllable in response, thickly-accented vocals evading the momentary silence of their enigmatic surroundings, the tyrant queen glides into closer proximities to the wench, vexation boiling beneath her rigid exterior. ?is it,? the phantom states stiffly, pallid skull sloping faintly to her right with feigned curiosity as she drills the familiar woman with a stare so glacial. ?-- and what a short translation for such a lengthy statement,? the deity notes, bitter contempt lacing her cynical retaliation. yet she presses no further on the matter, disinterest prevailing through her skepticism. for her carmine beauty?s empire may have crumbled, yet their empress will once more reign supreme over the realm this harlot had infiltrated. velvet nostrils quiver to inhale the wraith?s scent, a frown chiselling indifferent features as she registers the familiarity of the aroma shrouding this italian minx -- the same perfume that plagued her once-sibling. ?you are cataleya?s pet?? she queries warily, indignance sluggishly festering within steel veins. ?you have no place here, dove, lest you intend to leave with spoiled beauty.? the threat is prominent -- true -- and the tyrant queen will cling to it relentlessly. table by lu.

The elysian tyrant approached with a ghost-like saunter, venom etching itself onto her features, but she tried to feign curiousity, gaining absolutely no reaction from the white harlot. Amethysts remained hard, the deity boring holes into it with an eon of ice. The tyrant would slither away, harshness obvious on her maw, veldt nares flaring. A pet, she thought of her. "I wouldn't say I am exactly a pet, Artemis. It was against my own willing to be claimed as her little white slave." Amethysts drifted from the tyrannical Elysius, gazing across the dark domain. The land seemed pretty comfy and secluded. Valentine had avoided the threat of the tyrant and her carmine empress by moving his claims to Buffalo Knolls and changing about everything. But the Elysius would have to find someone else to tell her what of her empire. Her crown tipped in the direction of the metallic/amethyst eyed tyrant, continuing her speech. "I am a slave no longer, but I still remain under the paw of Cataleya. I obey to keep a head on my shoulders, but Kylar and Cataleya are both interesting." Would this tyrant like to know what plans she had for her own self? To b l e e d for a crown, just as she had promised her in their first encounter by those crystals, dangerous and captivating. my actions | my words | my thoughts

i feel a bit rusty so, if you've any questions, feel free to pm or skype me! my skype is MissAwesomeAly, dunno if i've added you before?

edit to specify maim, approved by saf!

? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? the porcelain harlot remains unfazed even as the tyrant queen lays waste to the distance that separates them -- the distance that ensured the minx?s safety. and the elysius? patience wears dangerously thin as her doppelganger refutes her claim, informing the deity of her own failures against the arcanum regime. ?then you are a weak slave girl,? the phantom?s correction is a deceptive croon, frayed lips contorting into a bewitching simper that briefly exposes serrated incisors to this subservient whore -- a subtle threat that the woman does not diligently heed. jaw clenches with vexation as insipid vocals continue to seep from the invader?s lips -- speech the former tyrant has no intention of regarding with further thought. ?no, dove,? the deity interjects, malice gleaming within her mismatched gaze as ardent pupils fixate upon the other?s own -- daringly. ?if you adhere to the commands of another, then a slave you remain.? her vocals are irrefutable and her irritation begins to seep through pallid pores as it becomes apparent to the elysius that the incompetent wraith has no intention of fleeing her realm as she had been demanded, an urge for assertive violence thus surfacing within the decadent chambers of her mind. despite the fury brewing beneath sullied flesh, once more her infamous smirk tweaks at the premises of her visage, warping her facial features quite criminally. defenses begin to settle into place as the tyrant queen decides upon the appropriate route to take with the insurgent before her, skull lowering defensively over her breast as her tail streamlines with the remainder of her spinal column, chin tucking against the curvature of her neck as her limbs spread equidistant apart and bend slightly at the joints to lower her center of gravity. toes splay beneath her mass, dulled nails grappling the earth to retain traction and balance as she distributes her weight evenly among her grounded appendages, abdomen then tensing as her ears sew against the contours of her lowered crown and her mismatched gaze narrows to feral slits. shoulders roll forward and her skull draws back some to safeguard her precious neck in a protective halo of excess flesh and fat, hackles prickling along the entire length of her spine as her jaws fall agape, lips peeling back to unsheathe the unslaked artillery previously concealed -- prepared duly for utilization. for the elysius will keep to her threat and ensure that the harlot?s beauty withers -- a warranted punishment for her foolish defiance against one whose supremacy is apparent. and the tyrant queen surges forward, hefty mass erupting from its stationary position in an attempt to close the four-foot gap [ooc: as confirmed by starry] lingering between she and her newest adversary with two bounding strides. her intent is to approach empyrea head-on yet slightly to her own left, hoping to position the jutted point of her own right shoulder blade in alignment with the center portion of the harlot?s lower neck, nearest the windpipe. and the phantom will attempt to ruthlessly thrust the jagged point of her right shoulder blade against this targeted area, desiring not only to crush the woman?s windpipe in hopes of winding her, but also striving to moderately bruise the tender flesh located there upon potential impact. in synchronicity with her attempt to drive her shoulder blade into the base of empyrea?s neck, the phantom?s skull tilts diagonally to her own left, gaping jaws seeking the pretty flesh upon her adversary?s right-sided { emp's right } visage. merciless incisors upon her upper jaw will strive to penetrate the area just beneath empyrea?s right ear { upon empyrea?s right-sided forehead } as the teeth upon her mandible will seek to penetrate the harlot?s right eye, hoping to permanently blind it so that she may perpetually spoil her adversary?s beauty -- as had been promised. yet the tyrant?s wrath is not limited to two attempted assaults, and thus, her left forepaw ascends from its position atop the earth, balance and weight shifting evenly between her three grounded limbs to accommodate the loss of stability in the fourth. the elevated left forepaw seeks to wrap about the outside of her opponent?s right forelimb, striving to hook around the area located halfway between the knee and the ankle in hopes of pulling the harlot?s right forelimb towards herself { artemis } and out from underneath the whore, intending to upset her balance and see her C R U M B L E. all the while, the elysius ensures that her defenses are secured, unwilling to allow this invader the utmost pleasure of victory. ARTEMIS vs EMPYREA for PERMANENT SCARRING/MUTILATION TO FACE ONE of UNKNOWN attacks -- attempting to position herself slightly to her own left, intending to thrust her right shoulder blade against empyrea's windpipe, located at the center portion of the lower neck, in hopes of winding emp and hoping to cause moderate bruising. simultaneously attempting to latch on to emp's right-sided face, upper jaw seeking purchase upon emp's right-sided forehead and just beneath her right ear and her lower jaw seeking to pierce emp's right eye in hopes of permanent blinding. left forepaw lifting to hopefully wrap around the outside of emp's right forelimb, seeking to upset her balance. injuries -- none, first round. table by lu.

The moon-esque goddess let herself remain calm and relaxed, despite the impending sense of danger emanating from the tyrant.  Her heart kicked against the cages of it's prison, trapped with no way to bulge larger and louder.  Then came that deathly croon.  That tense silence nearly snapped then, before her own lyrics even sounded.  With the flick of her ears in indigence, she would continue, only for the tyrant to flash serrated ivories, yellowed compared to the harlot's own.  Battered lips folded over the dangerous weapons, an interjection sounding in deathly noise.  "No, dove."  The pulpit of the woman would bore glacial drills into her own amethysts, still yet full with the same emotions as the tyrant -- daring and defiance.  So a fight would be such. The air got tense, the fabric of time stretched thinner than ever.  Sections ticked away like hours, it seemed.  The harlot pushed herself up from reclined haunches, quickly stretching them so to not tear a muscle in the process.  Instantly, they would spread wide, keeping herself from losing balance so easily, despite the low odds of the tyrant attempting to charge from a mere four feet away, head-on as well.  Each of the harlot's digits would widen, claws gripping the murky soil, rolling her toes to test how well it would hold.  A bit wet and slick, but that shouldn't be too much of a problem.  Fights usually were quick and stationary.  She still wanted the best grip she possibly could gain, despite the muck clinging to her pawpads.  Very rarely a wolf would break away from another.  And from her knowledge, Artemis wasn't one to simply let go of a death grip.  Knees bent, almost in a crouch to allow her a shock absorber.  Shoulders rolled forward, tightening as much skin as possible on her flanks as well as back.  The fur of her hackles rose skyward, pulling the skin of her backside easily toward them, as well as her neck, creating a bit of a straight wrinkle effect on her skin.  Her previously swaying banner came to a complete stop, rising to align with her spine as both a rudder and mean of balance.  The harlot's skull lowered, aligning with her banner and spinal column, chin tucking close to her chest fur, balancing herself and protecting vital areas, such as her jugular or chest, precisely the fleshy part before her legs.  From experience, many wolves would try to ram shoulders into that position.  Upon her facial features, her eyes narrowed, brows creasing and crinkling the skin of her forehead, and shielding her optics from dust damage or potential bites.  Lips peeled back in an ugly snarl, porcelain whites just waiting to be stained with blood, skin pushing back in wrinkles, while her muzzle crinkled in defense.  The skin would wrinkle up into loose folds, and be harder to find secure grip onto.  Veldt ears pinned against the base of her crown, skin folds of her forehead stretching thin onto her skull, a hard place to gain a tight grip onto now, and protecting the vulnerable area from any ideas that the tyrant may have for it -- she was after spoiled beauty, after all.  Silently, she contemplated what her move would be toward the bitch, what her own target would be during this fight.  The flash of silvery white made her decision clear.  The eye of the beholder.  How would the tyrant like her own eye being torn out?  So far, the harlot had met two other wolves whose eyes had been removed by this same bitch.  Oh what she had gotten into. There was a short pause, time stretching ultra-thin over the forest.  It seemed all of the croaking frogs had silenced themselves, waiting to see what gore would occur in mere minutes.  Neither could regret their decisions today.  The tyrant had already laid waste to the distance that could have allowed the harlot escape, just four feet separating the two women.  One masculine and powerful, the other feminine and streamlined.  They both were even in height, but not build.  This would be an interesting fight for others to observe, but even if Artemis had felled pack rulers before, the harlot would not give in easily.  They were head-on, locked in a standoff. Then the tyrant made her move. Her appendages stretched, swallowing the distance between the two in just a couple of neat strides.  Her stride slid a little to her own right side, the tyrant's intent obvious on her right side first.  There already were bruises there from her previous match against another, but they had healed.  There wouldn't be any scars in that area if she could help it.  Haunches spread wide, power localized in them, and her chin ducking low to defend as much of her vitals she could.  They were almost shoulder-to-shoulder, until the tyrant threw her right shoulder toward the flesh of her neck.  The jagged point of the blade sliced into the base of her throat, pressing harshly into the soft flesh of it, wind rushing from her muzzle.  The harlot huffed for a burst of air if she could get it, then swung her skull to her left, a bit slowly due to the scars of her neck, but still a smooth motion nonetheless.  She stepped backwards involuntarily from the pressure of the shoulder, and hopefully she could feel relief from the nagging pain of bone meeting bone.  Over the roaring of blood in her ears, she heard the faint snapping of teeth, then pain ripped through her right-sided face, but it was not the intended target of the tyrant.  The bitch's top mandible was hooked into the area just to the left of her right eye, where wrinkles and folds of skin caught the serrated weapons painfully.  The lower section of the tyrant's jaws was latched into the area just beneath her right cheek.  Both sets of fangs sunk in about half an inch deep, but sweet gods, it was painful.  The harlot bit her own tongue to keep herself from screeching like a banshee, her mind falling into the darkness of rage and hatred.  The tyrant's left foreleg brushed against her own right foreleg, yet the harlot felt it's hairs graze hers.  Before the tyrant could try to wrap it around, the harlot would reposition her weight onto the remaining three legs, accounting for her loss of balance on her right foreleg, it shooting up quickly to keep it away from the tyrant.  It would fall on the floor, and once it could land soundly, the harlot would reallocate her power to her forelegs, with most of her weight in her hind legs. In an attempt to remove the bitch's teeth from her right face, the harlot would throw her head down in quick movement, violently in fact.  Once her velocity could slow enough to move in a straight line, her forelegs would push up and back, while hind legs folded, then straightened like planks, in attempts to break away from the elysius.  Even if she couldn't find herself breaking away, and only staying in the same position she was, the harlot would position her weight into her hind legs, power localizing at that spot as well, her right shoulder jutting forward as she lunged toward the elysius.  If she could aim it correctly as she intended, the shoulder would hit the fleshy joint of the tyrant's right shoulder and chest.  Either way, there wasn't much she could do, one way or another the tyrant could find a way around her attacks.  The throbbing pain the first bite pounded in her skull, and hopefully the harlot could make a comback. EMPYREA vs. ARTEMIS for REMOVAL/BLINDING OF LEFT EYE ONE TWO

It is the cries of battle that draw the carmine nymph from the chambers of the ivory tyrant's den, audits swiveling in the direction of the borders as she pinpoints the fights exact location. Someone had probably dared to trespass on Art's territory, and she did not doubt that her devious paramour would punish them for their crime. Why not enjoy the show? She could learn a thing or two about fighting if she observed Artemis in the heat of war. Ebony dipped appendages lift the nymph to a standing position, and she takes off toward the borders at a steady paced jog. She does not wait for Marco to rise and follow her, as she knows her little puppet will always be at her side without her command. It does not take long for the woman to reach the escalating battle, the symphony of snarls and yelps filling the air that surrounds the trio. Her volcanic orbs fall upon Art's masculine form, her sight searching for any damage this incapable whore could have inflicted upon the tyrants pristine beauty. Her gaze then devours the form of Art's competitor, a woman she had never seen before that oddly looked very much like Artemis. Who in the hell was she, and what had she done to unleash the wraiths wrath? Only time would tell. The nymph aims to stand a few feet away from the battle, her hell stricken gaze locked on the dancing duo. She would observe Art's techniques and store them into the folds of her memory until this woman was quelled. "Speech"

skype for questions! <3

? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? as her right shoulder meets its fleshy target { light bruising blossoming upon the front of her right shoulder as a result } upon the base of empyrea?s neck and against the windpipe, forcing the harlot to backpedal slightly away from their tight proximities due to the force of impact, satisfaction begins to course through the tyrant?s veins. for in her absence from alacritia she had refrained from the gory pleasures of battle, and in her absence an urge for sadism had flourished! and as her jaws hook into the tender flesh of the slave girl?s right-sided countenance { emp?s right eye having evaded the elysius? ruthless attempt to blind }, the phantom?s pleasure only escalates, a relentless desire to inflict detrimental damage upon her adversary surfacing within the depths of her twisted mind. yet the harlot girl manages to avoid the elysius? attempt to yank her { emp?s } right forelimb out from underneath her, disappointment befalling the tyrant queen as her opponent lifts the targeted forelimb from her grasp before safely settling it upon the earth once more. however, before the elysius allows her own elevated left forepaw to greet the earth after its failed attempt at wrapping around empyrea?s right forelimb, she attempts to forcibly slam it down onto the outside two toes of empyrea?s right forepaw, desiring to break or fracture the digits beneath her weight and hoping to time it after emp plants her right forepaw against the ground. regardless of whether the tyrant is successful in her attempted assault or not, she will seek to plant her left forepaw upon the earth once more to reinstate her balance upon all fours. as the harlot violently jerks her skull downward and away from artemis? grasp upon her countenance { and artemis can only imagine how foolish a maneuver it is, for she desires to mutilate the whore?s facial features and with emp ripping free of her grasp, it might likely lacerate her pristine visage further }, the elysius? jaws fully gape, mismatched gaze searching her adversary?s countenance for her next target. and as empyrea surges forward after momentarily detaching herself from the tyrant?s grasp, art, too, attempts to barrel forward at a head-on angle { hopefully still positioned slightly to her own left so that the duo?s right halves overlap }, attempting to align and thrust the jutted point of her own right shoulder blade into the natural groove located between her adversary?s right-sided chest and right shoulder as empyrea endeavors to perform a similar maneuver to the flesh between her own { art?s } right shoulder and rightwards chest. however, the elysius strives to meet her opponent?s impact halfway, intending to increase the potential for damage with a desire to heavily bruise her adversary?s targeted flesh [ooc: counter-attack of emp?s shoulder-thrust, pending damage]. and as the phantom attempts to throw her right shoulder in between her adversary?s right shoulder and rightwards chest, gaping jaws rotate to art?s own right, hopefully angled inward towards the right side of her adversary?s muzzle. upper jaw seeks to clamp down over empyrea?s right-sided snout while her mandible seeks to hook beneath emp?s right-sided lower jaw [ooc: there was no mention of emp?s jaws being parted in her previous post], hopeful in her endeavor of carving severe, permanent puncture wounds into the harlot?s muzzle. artemis also hopes that, by potentially ensnaring the entirety of empyrea?s right-sided muzzle within her own jaws, she may keep her opponent from attempting to bite. all the while, the phantom ensures that her own defensive stance is unwavering to the best of her ability: mismatched eyes narrowed to feral slits, triangular ears sewn against the contours of her lowered crown, lips peeled back to expose serrated guillotines, and jaws parted threateningly. abdominal muscles are tensed and her hackles are raised along the length of her spinal column, limbs spaced equidistant apart and bent slightly at the joints to lower her center of gravity, and her weight distributed evenly among her grounded limbs. toes are splayed and dulled nails grapple the earth to maintain a sense of balance and traction, shoulders roll forward and neck scrunches somewhat to safeguard her precious jugular in a protective halo of excess flesh and fat as her chin tucks against the curvature of her neck. tail is streamlined with her spine and her skull is lowered in similar alignment, unwilling to grant her opponent a leeway to her jugular vein. for she will see that this invader is reprimanded for her transgressions, and reprimanded cruelly. ARTEMIS vs EMPYREA for PERMANENT SCARRING/MUTILATION OF FACE TWO of TWO attacks -- attempting to slam her left forepaw onto emp's right forepaw, aiming to break or fracture the outside two toes of the forepaw. attempting to thrust her right shoulder blade in between the natural groove located between emp's right shoulder and rightwards chest, intending to meet empyrea's impact halfway to increase the potential for damage. attempting to turn her jaws inward to emp's right-sided muzzle before her upper jaw strives to clamp down over emp's right-sided snout while her mandible seeks to hook beneath emp's right-sided lower jaw, seeking to encase the entirety of emp's right-sided muzzle to both severely puncture emp's flesh and keep her from parting her jaws to bite. injuries -- light bruising to front of right shoulder, pending damage from emp's shoulder-thrust table by lu.

Default to Artemis

Due to Empryrea not posting in the allotted time, Artemis is successful in scaring Empryrea's face.

Empryrea must give up by either passing out, submitting, or running away.