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Princess_Feylin rolled 5 4-sided dice:
2, 3, 4, 3, 1
Total: 13 (5-20)
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 Posted: Sat Jul 14, 2012 9:03 am
Burzum had decided that scaring people was all well and good, but there was no point in looking scary if he wasn't able to follow through on the implied threat, so he would obviously have to learn to fight. Unfortunately, neither of his parents were really what the pale-furred cub would call fighters, and his Odd-uncle was even less so. Aunt Kazul might be a fighter, he supposed, but she didn't come around all that often and she didn't seem very comfortable with cubs, so he didn't want to bother her.
That meant that he would have to learn to fight from someone else. Someone outside the family. One of his brothers was already trying to find someone to train him, which had given Burzum the idea in the first place, but Burz knew he would have to find a different trainer than Skog, or else it would look like he was being a copycat. That would be so humiliating. But if Burz could find a better trainer, well, that would be awesome.
So up he trotted to the pride itself, slipping into the stronghold without difficulty. He had learned to do that when he was just a cub. The reavers on sentry duty weren't very good, he felt. Or else they didn't consider him a threat, in which case they weren't very bright. Because he was going to be a terror when he grew up. As soon as he learned to fight, anyway. And to that end he directed his paws to the arena where he knew all the warriors practiced.
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Princess_Feylin rolled 5 4-sided dice:
2, 3, 2, 1, 3
Total: 11 (5-20)
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Posted: Sat Jul 14, 2012 9:16 am
His dad was acting weird. That was the only way to describe it. Yollalunta knew Galning had been on a real self-improvement kick that seemed for the most part to be sticking, and he'd been duly grateful when it started. It meant no more nights alone in the den while his father was out getting drunk and doing gods only knew what with gods only knew whom, only to stumble in sometime mid-morning or even mid-afternoon with a hangover. If Yolla had been forced to answer what had scared him most about his father at first, even more than the berserking, it would have been the drunken debauchery.
That was all over and done with now. Now Galning was trying to be an exemplary reaver as well as an exemplary father to his only son. Or at least to the only son he had in the pride. Yolla wasn't sure he really appreciated the attention, since it meant that he was no longer allowed to spend his time trying to make things out of dead animal bits, which he had enjoyed doing when he learned that not all Stormborn fought. Irritatingly, his father was did not agree that there were non-fighter Stormborn, and had told him in no uncertain terms that he might grow up to be a crafter, but he would also know how to fight.
So now Yolla was standing at the edge of the practice arena, trying to make himself do something which would catch the attention of one of the reavers there and convince him to make an offer to train him. Because Galning said that he should learn from someone who wasn't a berserker, probably. Yolla sighed. He was relieved not to be like that, but he also didn't know what he could possibly do to find someone to train him.
And then he saw the white cub lurking closer to the combatants, watching the fights through narrowed dark eyes. He looked familiar, and suddenly Yolla realized that they had met before. And before the other cub had claimed to be a ghost, terrifying Yolla for the rest of the night. Perhaps if he challenged this lying snot to a fight, and then won, that would do the trick.
"Hey," he hissed, sidling closer. "You shouldn't be here. Only Stormborn lions train here."
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Posted: Sat Jul 14, 2012 4:31 pm
Burzum turned to the youthful voice and his eyes narrowed even further, turning into black slits that blended in with the black markings his face already bore. He hissed as he turned. Not the brief, fierce hiss of an outraged cub, but the long, drawn-out hiss of a predator that has been seriously pissed off.
"Say that again, fool, and those words may be your last," he whispered.
Burz had to whisper. If he spoke normally his voice would be high and fluting, and therefore completely and absolutely embarrassing. So he whispered, trying to growl and his at the same time. The resultant manner of speech was memorable, but not particularly terrifying. He probably would have been better off doing that horrible screeching sound he was so good at, but that would have made everyone present turn to stare.
"I am a lion of the Stormborn, born of the Warlord's line." On the b*****d side, but what did that matter?
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Posted: Sat Jul 14, 2012 5:17 pm
Oh, of course. The requisite posturing and threatening that seemed to precede any fight in this pride. Yolla usually found them tiresome to listen to in the usual course of things, but now that he was participating in the trash talk, it seemed kind of fun. Yolla bared his teeth in fierce anticipation.
"You? Born of the Warlord's line? You're such a liar! Are you even capable of telling the truth in even one single sentence?"
After all, the cub had lied about being a ghost, and he may or may not have been lying about being a Stormborn. Why shouldn't Yolla doubt him when he claimed to be descended from the Warlord? Yolla knew all of the high priestess's cubs by sight, and none of them had cubs.
"None of Aesir and Morrigan's children even have cubs, stupid. And what's wrong with your voice? You sound like you have a cold."
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Posted: Sun Jul 15, 2012 7:30 pm
Burz bristled, the fur along his spine standing on end from the crown of his skull to the base of his spine where his tail joined his body. His tail lashed from side to side. How dare this cowardly custard accuse him of being a liar? And then to comment on Burz's voice had just been stupid. Very, very stupid. Burz was extremely sensitive about his high and squeaky voice.
He wasn't going to bother with anything so formal and stupid as a challenge at this point. His ancestry had been questioned, his honor challenged, and his voice insulted. This stupid spotty cub was going to die. There was no other option. Not to kill him would be a disgraceful act. Burz knew that even with his immediate family being largely noncombatant.
He darted beneath the ribcage of an older lion with teeth and claws bared and when he emerged from the other side all of his pointy bits were sinking into Yolla's dark fur.
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Posted: Sun Jul 15, 2012 8:04 pm
Attacking suddenly as he had, Burzum had left Yolla too startled and upset to react, which had wasted precious time. The claws and teeth slashing through his fur and latching into his skin served to firmly convince him otherwise. He was most definitely dealing with a creature of flesh and blood and bone. This was not the way he'd hoped to have his suspicions confirmed. Not at all.
Yolla squeaked as he was attacked without warning. It certainly could not be said that the attack was unprovoked, but he had not expected it just the same. He had forgotten how very quickly the cub had moved before, that night he had first seen him. He had appeared and disappeared as though he was made of shadow. It was why Yolla had been able to believe that he was dealing with a ghost.
"Hey!" he squealed, wriggling free. "You're supposed to challenge me."
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Posted: Sun Jul 15, 2012 8:17 pm
Burz drew back, baring his bloodied teeth at Yolla. He could feel blood on his chin, too, and he liked the feeling. It made him feel fierce and dangerous, like when he used to play at being a ghost. Yes. Definitely this was what he was meant to be doing.
Going along with this discovery, Burz kicked with his hind legs, throwing the pair of them to the ground, and then with minimal effort he took advantage of his opponent's surprise and pinned him to the sand with a warning paw pressed over his soft and exposed throat.
"Stormborn only challenge their equals," he snarled into Yolla's face. "You are not my equal."
To illustrate his point, Burz very deliberately sneezed into Yolla's face, which meant closing his eyes briefly. He was purposefully presenting the blue-eyed cub with an opportunity to fight back that he was confident he would not take. Probably the sand getting in his the scratches Burz had given him hurt. Burz hoped they did.
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Posted: Tue Jul 17, 2012 8:53 am
Yolla would have liked to come up with something biting and hurtful to say in response, or eve just bite the hateful white cub, but he wasn't in much of a position to do either thing. He was flat on his back with a paw slowly crushing his throat and lots of teeth bare inches away from his face. His father had probably never found himself in this position in his life. Well. Maybe.
"Get off," he growled, though his growl came out more like a squeak because of the pressure being applied to his throat. Very quietly and begrudgingly he added, "Please?"
Actually, Yolla had no problem saying please most of the time. His mother had raised him and his brother to have good manners, but his father didn't seem to care if he used them or not. In fact, sometimes he told Yolla that he didn't have to use them in certain circumstances, which had been pretty confusing at first.
When his opponent made no move to let him up Yolla began to panic. There was blackness creeping in around the edge of his vision which made him want to hyperventilate. He didn't, but only barely. It began to dawn on him that the cub on top of him might actually be willing to kill him. At that point, all bets were off. Yolla didn't want to die.
"I'm sorry I called you a liar and made fun of your voice," he whimpered with what felt like the last of his air.
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Posted: Tue Jul 17, 2012 9:18 am
As an experiment, Burz was keeping his opponent on the ground and continuing to press down on his throat to see how funny he could make his voice sound. It was kind of funny to watch him try different tactics to convince him to let him go. The groveling was Burz's favorite, even though he didn't actually agree with Burz that he wasn't his equal. At this point they both knew that went without saying.
Likely Burzum would have continued to press on Yolla's throat until he passed out, just for the fun of it and to make sure the dark cub was good and humiliated, but he suddenly became aware of the fact that they had acquired an audience and that the general sound of the murmuring was not exactly congratulatory. He wondered why that was.
"Fine," he growled, backing off and letting Yolla up. "Next time, I'll take you for my thrall and you'll have to do everything I say."
Not that anyone in his immediate family kept thralls, but he could be the first. Maybe. Except his grandma and her sister say it's wrong for one lion to own another like that. Well, not wrong, but it's not really the natural way of things. Burz still had a hard time getting his fey heritage and his Stormborn heritage to balance. Probably he would all his life, if his Odd-Uncle was to be believed.
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Posted: Tue Jul 17, 2012 9:31 am
Air!
Yolla gulped it down, gasping like a fish on land, but for the exact opposite reason. He still felt faint and lightheaded, but the feeling was rapidly fading with the reintroduction of oxygen to his system. He didn't even hear Burzum talking right away, he was so busy just breathing.
"Tha..."
He was about to thank Burzum for letting him up when he realized he shouldn't be thanking the lion who had just beaten him so thoroughly. He also realized at about the same time that they had acquired an audience, just as he'd initially hoped to do. He really didn't want an audience anymore, and figured that at this point probably the best thing he could do now would be to vanish as quickly and unremarkably as possible.
"That won't happen," he mumbled as he climbed to his feet. The sand in his scratches really hurt a lot more than he'd expected it to. "Next time I'm going to beat you bloody."
Then, with as much dignity as he could muster, Yolla stomped away and tried not to sniffle. At least not until he reached his father's den, which was mercifully unoccupied. Maybe with his dark fur no one would notice the slashes he'd just earned and he could just pretend this miserable day had never happened.
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Posted: Tue Jul 17, 2012 11:13 am
Burz watched with satisfaction as Yolla beat a hasty retreat and pretended that he didn't notice or mind all the reavers' gazes as they looked at him. He was also pretending that he wasn't wondering what they were all thinking of the display he'd taken part in. It didn't matter what they thought!
Well, not much.
"Impressive, cub," said a tawny lion Burzum didn't recognize. Others in the crowd seemed to agree with this appraisal. He turned to the tawny lion and shrugged in response, trying to seem nonchalant while at the same time thinking that he could get used to this sort of recognition.
His black eyes scanned the crowd and he wondered which of them was the best. Was it the biggest? The most scarred? The oldest? This afternoon all of those things seemed to be concentrated in one lion whose fur was the color of soot and whose eyes were a familiar amber color. Burz noted him and decided to seek him out later.
For now, he thought he might bask in his glory a bit, but the reavers had other ideas. The tawny lion who had spoken before told him that he should watch how real reavers fought and then his moment of fame was over.
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