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Posted: Sat Aug 10, 2019 3:09 am
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Na’Be lived a life where he was never very sure where he was or why he was there. One moment he was in the Pridelands, safe and happy with his grown up children and plentiful food and the next he was far from home with no idea how he’d gotten there. He was aware of his other persona’s existence through the testimony of others, but beyond that he had no idea what he was like or what he did, just that he’d woken up more than once beaten up or in the company of strange lionesses without much handle on what had led to that point. It was safe to assume he was both violent and a womaniser. He called himself Red.
That particular day he wasn’t sure where he was either, as usual fraught with images of strange things and futures which might never actually be as he tried to cope with orienting himself back in the direction of the pridelands. It took most of the afternoon, taking stock of his surroundings and what was real or wasn’t, and it was when he lay down to nap that Red woke back up.
Red never wondered about where he was, unbothered by visions, he was a creature of cruel intent and purpose, stalking through the borders of other people’s lands in search of some kind of sport. When he spotted the two lions, he didn’t recognise them at all, but felt like it would be entertaining to hassle them. You couldn’t beat a good fight, and both of them even from a distance looked seasoned. Red himself was scarred across his back from run ins with his father and he moved with the callous ease of someone who was always itching for some kind of carnal pleasure or another.
Stepping boldly into view, he curled his tail at his heels. “Think you have the mettle to drive me out?”
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Seaki rolled 5 4-sided dice:
4, 3, 1, 1, 2
Total: 11 (5-20)
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Baneful rolled 5 4-sided dice:
4, 2, 3, 2, 3
Total: 14 (5-20)
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Posted: Tue Aug 13, 2019 12:59 am
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Red felt the adrenaline thrum in his veins as the lions seemed to agree to a fight and not even just that, a /fair/ fight. He’d have fought them both, even with the odds stacked against him. He didn’t fear death, fear belonged to Na, not him, there was no terror in the shade for him, only the wild steadily increasing heart rate of the present.
Tensing his muscles, Red snapped into action like a steel trap the moment Slava declared combat open, snarling somewhere low in his chest.
He fought like a lion gone mad, forgoing strategy and care, the typical cunning back and forth of combat, in favour of an almost feverish brutality. He was instantly willing to put himself in harms way to land a blow, showing little concern for himself, only for a rabid fixation on victory.
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