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Jikde Bonyac rolled 5 4-sided dice:
1, 2, 1, 1, 3
Total: 8 (5-20)
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 Posted: Mon Dec 20, 2010 9:25 pm
Dodonna stepped out of Nymphaea's den and stretched his legs, working out the stiff muscles that came from sleeping on rock. He was unfamiliar with den life, and he wasn't entirely sure he liked it. The cubs had kept him up again. Not even his cubs, which rankled him something fierce. If Nymphaea wasn't such a very large and dominant female, he might have words to say about that. His head was pounding from his first introduction to the pride's intoxicating mint as well. It had been pleasant at first, relaxing and laughing with others, but now he was paying the price.
It was making him very grumpy though, and he eyed some of the nearby lions, wondering what the social rules were for picking a fight with them. He needed to work out some of this tension before he took it out on his female and got his tail handed to him by bright pink jaws. Shaking himself to wake up fully, he wandered over, hoping maybe he could play the social game by ear.
Zsaria was simultaneously among and seperated from the crowd. It was almost always like this, the perpetual outsider mixed in with the rest. It wasn't that she didn't try, but the raid had stirred up local memories about the incidents surrounding her past and she didn't care to confront the questions of newcomers and youngsters. She didn't care to be picked apart and that seemed to be the current buzz. It would die down, others only tended to care as long as it got a rise. Still it left her irate and in a continuous haze from the mint she kept chewing, using it to keep her anger at a manageable level. So many newcomers. It irked her for reasons she couldn't understand. Her bloodline was old, respectable, yet they spoke about it like trash. They had no right. There was one of them, an unreasonably bright male coming down from the dens. He had a home already did he? What had he done to deserve that. She swayed a little as she stepped down from her watching place, approaching him with a scowl.
Dodonna sat along the edge of the group, feeling very awkward and wincing to try to fight back the headache. He wasn't entirely sure how to go about talking to them. He wasn't the best conversationalist in good weather, and right now a storm was brewing in his skull, leaving him unwilling to make any efforts beyond maybe snapping and growling at them. Rogue life didn't have all these restrictions, he grumbled to himself.
His eyes picked up a very pale shape moving away from the others, so white that he was having difficulty looking directly at her without the pain increasing behind his eyes. It was a female, and she looked as ornery as he surely did. He vaguely remembered seeing her among the Rievers. So, a fighter then. He wasn't sure if he should try to approach her. Up until lately he'd always shunned the lesser gender as weak, but his mate was quickly knocking that idea out of his head.
"What are you-," she managed to spit out, her words slightly sideways, "Looking at?" Her mind had convinced her that he was judging her like the rest, holding her responsible for things of the past. She had believed before that all of that was over but these newcomers, this foreign blood, it couldn't be trusted. It hadn't proven itself. "Don't look at me," she screeched shrilly, stumbling toward him with the sprig of mint hanging from her jaws. Her condition would have been disgraceful on any other day but she had given this one over to selfpity. She had kept away from those she knew, and those that saw her already spoke nothing but ill.
Dodonna snorted as he saw her weaving. That bloody plant of theirs again, it made no sense that they gorged on the stuff. Sure, it had been delightful at first, but at what consequences. He stiffened up at her accusing tone, and tried to stare her down just to defy her demand, but her bobbing movements were making him dizzy. He caught himself before he could fall over. Maybe he wasn't as over the effects of the mint as he'd thought.
"Why, what am I staring at?" he rumbled with a hint of mocking in his tone. Darn it, he wanted to scratch his claws against someone, and she might be willing, maybe he could goad her into a fight. He didn't even care that she was female anymore, he'd had precious little sparring since he got here. "Some sort of lion shaped cloud, is it? Pale enough to be a cloud. Why isn't it in the sky with all its friends?"
"Cloud?" she shouted, much louder in the air than it was in her mind, "Could a cloud fight? Could a cloud capture and pillage and." She seemed to forget where she was going with her arguement and instead just stumbled toward him, grabbing at the air with her claws. Her balance faltered as her paw left the ground and she fell forward, slamming into his chest. "In the way," she grumbled, scratching him as she tried to pull herself up. Always in the way, so crowded. It hurt her head and made her want to retreat up to her den near the tops of the fortress. But no, she was stuck down here because she knew well enough she'd need to sober up before she attempted the climb.
"Ah!" Dodonna hissed as her shout went right through his head. Why did she have to be so loud? Okay, he'd started it, but still, how cruel could a woman be? He only realized he'd shut his eyes to hide from the pain when a heavy weight thumped against his chest, knocking him back, claws scratching at his fur. He stumbled, trying to keep upright, and tried to make a quick dodge move that was one of his favorite tricks in battle.
Unfortunately he still had his eyes closed, and caught his foot on an outcropping, and went bowling head over feet. Lolling on the ground for a moment, he blinked up at her, confused why she was sideways. Oh, right, the sky went that way. He was the one sideways. Hauling himself up, he snarled at her. "I wouldn't be in the way if you could walk!" He decided to consider that bump an initial attack on her part, so he lunged forward and made a swipe at her head.
Zsaria managed to roll herself out of the way, taking a clip on the ear and side of her head for her troubles. Newcomers! Not to be trusted! Her mind shouted obscenities at her and a few made their way out of her mouth as she tried to yank herself back onto her feet. "You, you jerk," she grumbled, coming at him again a little faster. She launched herself forward with both front paws in the air, knocking at him wildly.
"Jerk?!" Dodonna shouted indignantly. He didn't even know what that word meant, but it was probably bad. How dare she insult him, he was a warrior of this pride now! And darn it he would earn his place by his claws! His swipe had missed her head, but now he met her attack full on, legs out to slam into her.
Her wildly flung paws baffled his eyes for a moment though. He couldn't follow them, and suddenly they threw his sense of balance completely out of whack and he was coming into the attack sideways and horribly off kilter. Flailing himself, he tried to right himself, but now his momentum had stopped and she was coming right for him.
Her back paws slipped out from under her as she went, leaving her to tumble full force forward. She was just as likely to hurt herself in this endeavor and she realized it as her feet left the ground. Her mind cleared for an instant and she envisioned herself slamming face first into the rocks, adding to the collection of scars on her face. This was his fault! She hadn't been doing anything and he'd slapped her. So rude, he needed to learn how to respect others. Not a whole lot she could do while falling though, the attack left her feeling simultaneously enraged and helpless.
Dodonna was very nearly in danger of falling backwards when she slammed into his legs, but then her momentum wrenched him forwards again. Too far forwards, and soon he was doing an unintentional somersault over her back and landing on the far side. He scrambled to pull himself up, but the world was reeling and just wouldn't stay still.
If his fur wasn't red already his flushed skin would show straight through it, he was so furious and embarrassed. What sort of fight was this for a warrior? Tumbling on the rocks like two cubs barely used to walking? How dare this... this female... put him in this humiliating situation. "You!" he hollered, and held out his legs towards her, pawing at the air. Maybe she was close enough he could reach to scratch.
Zsaria felt his paw connect with her face but didn't register it at once. The scratch wasn't too deep, certainly not enough to leave a noticeable scar, but enough to sting. The pain was dulled slightly by her intoxicated state but she still panicked, kicking at him with her back legs as she tried to flip herself upright. "Not fair," she grumbled, her tone high and strained. Neither of them were fit to fight and she hadn't even been looking for a fight. An exchange of insults perhaps, but how had this happened? Her mind hurt, obviously something strange had gone on, some foreign magicks. Maybe not even foreign, maybe one of the priestesses was angry with her. Her panic was of course misplaced, but that reality did nothing to stop her from intensifying her kicking.
"Ow, ow, ow," he wheezed as the kicks took the breath out of him. "Ow, female, darn it!" For a lioness who couldn't walk straight she had dangerously strong legs, and they were pounding straight into his gut. He could feel the bruises rising almost immediately. He tried to snag one of her feet to stop her from inflicting the torment, but he kept missing. There were just so many legs, it was hard to keep track.
Finally he rolled over to get out of range, and barely made it to his feet, wobbling there slightly. He scowled at the other lions from where they watched the spectacle. How many fights would he have to win to live this down? He'd win this one too, if only his head would stop screaming at him. "Well, come on you, you puff of mist! Where's your teeth, female!"
"Teeth?" she shrieked, ramming her head at his face, "I'll break your teeth." Stored for future reference, injured head as a weapon was not an ideal choice. She had learned that with Taraxa and yet she found herself doing it again. Perhaps she had been struck stupid, not from the mint surely, she was always just fine. After all she'd never done anything stupider than, well no, she had picked a fight before. But that had been mutual. And this one, she wasn't even sure she had picked this one. "What's your problem?" she snarled, wanting the random assault to just end so she could slink home to rest her face.
That... was the most excruciating experience of Dodonna's life. He wasn't even sure he had a head any more, it felt like it had just been struck by lightning and split down the middle like a tree in a storm. He keeled over and lay on the ground fervently trying not to whimper like a kitten as his senses slowly returned to feed more and more pain to his overloaded mind.
"Why do you people eat this stuff?" he keened, and pressed his head against the rocks in hopes that their coolness would bring some relief. "Are you mad? It doesn't even taste that good!" He didn't even care anymore that the others were watching, he just curled himself into a ball and waited for her to go away. Maybe later he could slink back to his den and hide in the dark. He wouldn't even mind the cubs, they couldn't compare to this.
Zsaria huffed as she pulled herself away from him, a new fire pounding in her head. This one wasn't pleasant, not like the warmth she got from a fresh sprig of mint. No this was a cruel loud pain, and she had a sense that it was her fault. "There," she puffed, stumbling backwards as she felt a thin dribble of blood down her forehead. She blinked it away, gesturing at him, "That's- That's for, something." Feeling dizzy and nauseous she lurched away, still at a loss for what exactly had just happened. She felt like she had won, but won what?
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Dulcea rolled 5 4-sided dice:
2, 2, 1, 2, 2
Total: 9 (5-20)
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Posted: Mon Dec 20, 2010 9:27 pm
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