[CHALLENGE] The Young Versus The Old (Fintan x Parth)

[In Good Faith]

Lochan had watched over them last night as Fintan licked his wounds and recouped from their encounter yesterday. And what a humbling experience that thad been... they'd decided today they would take a quick loop around the perimeter of the pride, or what they knew of it, to see if they could locate their father. If not... well there was only one way in and that was through.

To cover ground quicker, the twins had separated, Fintan took east and Loch taking west. Fint had made it about half way of what he perceived to be the boarder of the Stormborn without having saw a soul. Afraid that he had gone off the edge of the pride too far, he tucked into the west somewhat, trying to walk the line of where the pride began. Eventually a hawk flew overhead, watching him more closely than he liked. He'd resolved to turn around and head back when he felt the eerie feeling that he was no longer alone. He froze for a heartbeat before turning to find a lion watching him with a curious but scarily blank expression. The scars on his body was all the more frightening. The hawk circled them now, as if preparing to watch a spectacle. Swallowing hard, Fint nodded to the old man. "Alright... uhm... I-I'm here to challenge."  

[In Good Faith]

Parth mentally sighed, cursing that he'd chosen to take this route to his den. It was just his luck to come across a challenger by accident when all these young reavers were chomping at the bit to prove their worth. The aged lion eyed the younger one with skepticism. He looked somewhat familiar but not enough that Parth was able to draw a connection.

As a reaver, he was obligated to accept the challenge and carry it out as best he could; all be it disgruntled. Shaking out his mane, he set his feet in a battle ready stance and looked into the familiar eyes of the challenger. "Accepted" said the gruff, husky voice.  

[In Good Faith]

Fint was unsure how to do this now that the challenge was accepted. Because the lion didn't immediately pounce on him, he assumed he was to make the first move. Well... in that case... Fint had noticed a boulder off to the side near the lion. As things stood, it would be foolish to attempt to charge the older lion. He was older but he was more stout than Fint. It reminded him of his father, actually. Instead, Fint bunched his muscles and bolted for the boulder. Quickly, he sprung from the top of the rock and, with a battlecry-worthy roar, used gravity to assist in his lunge on the dark lion.

This enabled Fint to get a firmer grip with his claws into the flesh of the lion, digging in with all his might so as not to be thrown off quickly. His fangs attempted to find soft flesh, ripping and tear as best his could into the parts that would hurt the lion the most. With his mane, of course, this proved difficult.

He was able to cling on longer than he anticipated, really, and felt his teeth sink deep into the lion's neck, just above the mane's hair line. With a frightening roar it was that point that the older lion was able to throw Fint off into the grass, where he rolled and sprung back up on his feet, panting and adrenaline pumping.  

[In Good Faith]

Parth had underestimated the younger lion, that was clear. Later he would curse himself up and down for it but right now his mind was only able to focus on one thing: blood and war. With a roar that would have shook the ground, Parth struggled to the throw the boy off his back. Continuing to swing and twist he could feel the claws tearing his skin inch by inch. He was preparing to roll onto his back when he felt the piercing of teeth into his neck. With a strangled roar, Parth was able to finally knock the lion against the rock and subsequently fling him off.

Not losing momentum, and with a flare of anger at being so easily wounded, Parth pounced on the male who met him with claws extended and teeth barred.

The males were a swirl of swipes, biting, roars, and fur flying, matching each other blow for blow. It was appearing to be a draw when Parth began to lose his breath rapidly. The injury to his neck was taking its toll, the shoulder muscles near the wound being strained in the constant use so quickly after. It wasn't so much pain--he had too much adrenaline to feel that just yet--but the body's energy draining from him.  

[In Good Faith]

Fint felt the lion losing his ground; the blows came weaker and more random than aiming true. Encouraged, he abruptly he dived as if tackling the lion in the underbelly. He succeed, his claws ripping and tearing in the softer flesh which were answered with a snarl that shook both lions.

The answering blows were payback. Parth managed to come down on top of the lion and turn, rolling in the dirt. Gaining the advantage of being on top, his teeth able to sink deep and tear in the lion's clavicle area. He was running on pure instinct at this point, and generally, that was the best way to fight. Nature was much better at survival than any brain was otherwise.

Fint was running dry, feeling his energy and drive starting to slip the longer the fight continued. It was a scary, feeling, really. He realized now he'd never been in true danger before. He'd never had to fear for his life, not before now. He didn't think the lion would kill him, surely, but accidents did happen.

The younger lion roared at the puncture of his chest, and in an attempt to break away used his back claws to rake against what was meant to the be the underbelly of his opponent. Instead, he caught the tougher side of the lion, thick with scar tissue.

Eventually the lion yielded his bite and withdrew in response to the kicking. He began to circle the boy now, sort of a dancing of swords as they assessed the condition of the other. They were both panting, both with a sheen of sweat and blood coating their bodies. This wasn't going to last much longer, that was clear. And right there... there was no evident winner.

Parth sprung and the lions met again in a flurry of claws, teeth and fur, seeing which would knock the other back the hardest. Roars were flying back and forth, trading blow for blow between the young and the old. Eventually, though, there was an opening. Parth seized the opportunity in spearing the body, his fangs biting into the softer tissue of the side.

Fint roared but clearly in pain less than the battle cry he'd used moments before. Moments? More like hours. The momentum of the tackle sent him reeling in the dirt and by virtue of physics, the older lion came with him. He wiggled and scratched the dirt, attempting to gain purchase with the ground and tear away from the dark male.

Parth finally released the lion, huffing and wheezing as the bloody and injured boy rolled in the dust away from him. He was done, both lions the worse for ware. In response to the younger lions staggering to his feet, preparing to do what looked like a limping charge, Parth spoke. "Enough." He took a few moments to breath again, the first word coming out almost inaudible. "Enough." He repeated, this time stronger. "This is a draw... welcome to Stormborn." He said this with a lack of any warmth or cordiality. It was simply a fact. Having done his duty, Parth nodded once and turned to leave.  

[In Good Faith]

One eye was swollen nearly shut and Fint heard ringing in one ear... which is why he wasn't sure if he'd understood the broken words of the dark male. "W-what? Hey! HEY!" he limply pursued the lion, who wasn't moving too fast himself, thankfully. "What do you mean... welcome? Did I... did I win?" he was running out of breath just in this short burst of pursuit but they were heading deeper into the territory...

Parth, though limping, did his best to walk in a respectable and dignified manner. And ignore the twerp that was following him. He grunted when his foot caught a hole in the ground, causing him to stumble. "It was a draw" he emphasized, not looking at... what the hell was his name. "Whats your name?" He barked, turning to face the newest member of the pride.

Fint was taken aback. Wide eyed, he answered. "F-Fintan. Sir."

Parth eyed him closer then, but he was obviously battered and bloodied up and wouldn't do well to recognize at the moment. "Mmphm. Well Fintan. I'm busy now, so if you would please..." He turned, walking back in the direction he'd been heading.

"Wait!" Fintan called again, catching up to the lion in a few quick and stumbling strides. "Wait! My brother! You have to fight him next!"

Parth abruptly turned to look at Fintan. "I what?" His voice came out dry and bemused.

"My brother. He and I came here together, to join our father. Some... some witch of a lioness told us that he couldn't claim us and now we had to fight our way in. I guess I'm in now but my brother needs to win too!"

Parth eyed him with a mix of wariness and skepticism. "Whose your father?"

"Finnan... er. Finch." He shrugged, not sure which he went by under the Stormborn.

Parth's face went blank as he stared at the lion before a very profane word flew out of his mouth. "Finch?" he demanded, voice rising. "The pale, blond fella with green eyes?" He noticed the boy in front of him had those same green eyes. Damnit. He wasn't lying.

Fintan's face lit up. "Yes! That's him."

Parth said another profane word and turned from Fintan but didn't start storming off. "Where the bloody hell is your brother, boy?"

Fintan grinned and nodded to the east. "That way."

Word Count: 1708