[CHAL] The Lights Are On - Kauplif x Daska

[bipolar bee]

Daska had been taking more and more patrols as of late. There was no real reason in particular; perhaps he just enjoyed the thrill of fighting. No one could fault him for that. It was in his blood, passed down to him from his mother and father, and their mother and father before them. He was Stormborn, and fighting was a part of him.

Either that or he was tired of the harpies back at the den, which was truthfully entirely possible, not that he'd ever admit it.

The truth of the matter was, Daska was itching for a fight.  

[Jovi of Shadows]

The lion formerly known as Isibane had been away from home for awhile now; though, calling it home left a bitter taste in his mouth. He'd lived in the desert for most of his life and its harsh environment had grown tiresome. Now he was looking for a new home, one with power and assets to to be utilized, and a new name to provide him with. The pale lion had searched and inquired those he found in the those roguelands, but really only one name seemed to be repeated with both awe and fear. The Stormborn.

From what he gathered he'd have to fight his way in, but the medic wasn't particularly concerned about that. He'd fought in his younger years, and now had a vast knowledge of how the body worked: which tendons to slice to imbolise an opponent, the proper amount of pressure to aply to a vulnerable area, and most of all where to cut to drain the most blood and tire a foe. Yes, he was confident, and he had a particular boon waiting for him in the wings when he won. A cheetah he'd managed to con into becoming his thrall once this was over with. All too easy.

As the rumors had told him he stopped along the border of the pride, careful blue eyes on the look out for any patrolling Stormborn as he roared his challenged.  

[bipolar bee]

Daska's ears perked at the sound of the roar. Most excellent. A challenger had been exactly what he'd hoped to come across on his patrols, and it seemed the Gods smiled on him this day. It brightened his sour mood considerably, and with a spring in his step that belied his age, Daska approached the pale male.

"You tread on the lands of the Stormborn; I will not ask if this is your intent, for it is far too late for you now, outlander."

With that, Daska was springing forward, teeth bared as he lashed out at his would-be opponent.

Jovi of Shadows

 

[Jovi of Shadows]

Ah, well, that didn't take long. He drew himself up into a sturdy, defensive position, much preferring his opponent to take the time to close the gap between them. It allowed the pale lion the luxury of preparing himself, practiced claws easily sliding from their sheaths as he watched and studied the dark lion that bore up on him.

Some quick, measured steps later, he was pivoting away from the assault and rushing the Stormborn's flank. Wicked claws flashed out as he did so, aiming to snag and rip at the other lion's heel and tendon.

He did not stay in close quarters either, charging a few strides outward to bring more distance between them again. "Perhaps", he flashed a condescending, bitter smile that did not reach his eyes, "But that goes for you as well, Stormborn." Head on, he was certain he'd be bested, so the pale lion remained focused on his opponent and his next move.  

[bipolar bee]

Jovi of Shadows

The sound of his own heartbeat was thundering in his ears, a rhythmic song that soothed Daska despite the pain that arced through his leg. His claws bit into the earth as he stumbled; righting himself quickly, Daska did not stop the sneer that twisted his mouth.

A worthy opponent. It was refreshing, but Daska did not like the way the other lion spoke to him. This was a foolish outlander, not his equal.

Readying himself on a slow exhale, Daska charged forth again, claws outstretched as he sought to rip into the other lion's pale hide. The sight of blood would undoubtedly make a loss much easier to bear.

"Come on, then, outlander," Daska snarled softly, all teeth and claws. "Prove your worth."  

[Jovi of Shadows]

Had he the chance, he'd have liked to have attacked his other hind leg as well, perhaps immobilizing him and making the fight easier on himself. He didn't get that chance however, as the larger lion was already after him again with hardly a hint of hindrance. The medic scowled. Perhaps he'd misjudged this one's fighting ability, which would be problematic should the other lion gain the upper paw.

It was all he could do to attempt to defend himself, clashing back with aimed strikes of his own. To his dismay, the other's strength was greater, and the pale challenger was forced to disengage once more. He'd have to fight smarter, he realized, as he had the disadvantage in both size, strength, and what he could assume to be practice.

He'd lived a luxurious life in his previous pride, and it had no doubt curbed what fighting ability he'd possessed as a younger lion. He grumbled, the noise coming off as a particularly annoyed growl. He'd have to look for an opening, something to exploit and push him into victory.  

[bipolar bee]

Jovi of Shadows

To give an inch was to offer a mile, and Daska had no intent in doing so. The other lion's annoyed growl had Daska grinning, effectually allowing him to ignore the white-hot pain that raced through his hind leg. The time for nursing his wounds would come later, win or lose; now was not the time to show any weakness. Years of sparring had honed his muscles, his claws and his mind.

Darting forward again with surprising quickness, Daska lunged for the other lion's throat. His teeth snapped shut just short of his target, and with a low snarl Daska lashed out with claws unsheathed, aiming to connect with the other male's shoulder.  

[Jovi of Shadows]

Narrowly missing a set of snapping jaws did not save the challenger the sharp pain of claws digging into his skin. He was quick to pull away however, red lines in his shoulder causing jolts of electric pain to shoot through his leg and upper torso. As a healer he knew it was not fatal, but as a lion currently engaged in combat the burning wound bid him to seek fierce vengeance against this attack.

His reaction was knowledge without restraint, knowing how a body worked and what could damage the system, his jaws fixated on their target: the Stormborn's nose. An odd place to attack for a warrior, perhaps, but he was no warrior. He was an aging, bitter, and decisively uncaring individual that did not pay any mind to 'honor' when it came to getting what he wanted. And what he wanted was to get into the pride. If that cost some b*****d his sense of smell? Well... he could care less.  

[bipolar bee]

Daska did not expect the blow to his nose, and the force behind those snapping jaws had the silver lion reeling in an attempt to free himself. The pain was intense, and his eyes immediately began to water. White-hot agony spread like wildfire across his face, and the large Stormborn frantically attempted to free himself from the outlander's jaws.

A dirty, dirty blow, but it was one that Daska should have probably seen coming. As it stood, the Reaver feared not for his sense of smell, but for the damage caused to his pretty face.

"Release me," it was a soft whimper as Daska froze, realizing that further frantic movements only caused the challenger's teeth to sink deeper into his muzzle.

Jovi of Shadows

 

[Jovi of Shadows]

The sharp pains from his shoulder had driven to such an extreme, but now that he was here, a stranger's nose jammed between his teeth, he had to wonder what to do next. How did these things end? You see, it had not been that clear in the information that he had gathered on this pride from the rogues he'd met. Was he suppose to kill his opponent to gain access? Or was this more like a Firekin spar? He was uncertain, but the whimpering voice caught his attention.

The pale lion hesitated, uncertain eyes meeting with the Stormborn's. Was this a trick to gain the upper hand in combat? Or had he messed up his joining some how? He contemplated his uncertainty for a moment before letting his grip go, slowly at first, but he was quick to hobble away just in case, muscles tensed. "Is that the end of this?" he asked warily, uncertainly, his breath coming in short bursts as he kept his eyes on the Stormborn. His shoulder stung him, and he wasn't use to the activity of fighting; it had drained him more than he thought it would.  

[bipolar bee]

Jovi of Shadows

The instant that the outlander released his grip on Daska's nose, the Reaver was backing away from the victor. His pride was wounded, his nose stung, and irritation ran thick and bitter in his blood. If he were a less respectable lion, Daska would have lunged for the other lion's throat again.

A challenge won was a challenge won, and in all honesty all Daska wanted to do was visit a healer to prevent his face from scarring.

"Welcome to the Stormborn," Daska's voice was rife with annoyance as he gingerly tested his nose with a paw. "You will need to find a Lawspeaker so that you might learn more of our customs."

He paused.

"If I see you again, I will kill you, so do not cross my path after this moment."

That being said, Daska stalked off to find a healer so that his nose might be tended to.