Haunted Wood And my diamonds sold

@Vengeance
Merc thread: Warrior

She slunk through the forest, using extra stealth today. She was going for a big prize.
She followed the most recent trail of rank; really, he wasn't hard to find. If anyone wanted to find him he would have to take a dip in the river and thoroughly wash whatever gunk was in his fur. All she could do was pity Serem at this point.

At last, she caught sight of her chocolate target.​
Not looking directly at him, she quickened her pace. He would likely hear the twigs snapping by now, and would soon catch a glimpse of her white face. Then she remembered his unease about her and his position, as well as everything else. She decided not to launch herself onto his ass, but to move and block his path.

"Spar." Demand rather than a request. But he could easily tell her to fuck off so, his loss really.

Rolled 1/10: 6
Round 1

Perhaps it was due to the slow healing of his leg - or maybe the loss of two members, along with the loss of a battle in which victory would have been oh so sweet that lingered bitterly on the Warlord's tongue; but he had been in a sour mood ever since that day. On edge, easily pricked and agitated. 

So when Vanity appeared, for a brief moment he took a step back. Eyes furrowing in their fiery glare, wondering what in the world did this woman want now?! Then she demanded a spar, the Warlord didn't hesitate for a moment after the words sputtered from her pretty little lips. 

Within a few powerful strides, he lurched forward, keeping himself closer to the ground than usual due to his knee's recovering... Tail lashing around it to keep it from being an easy target and baiting the extended limb instead, it was far less useful to him than a knee after all. Reaching forward, he aimed to grab the side of her face with a swift bite. 

He wasted no time.

Rolled 1/12: 1
Big oof for Vanity Chief

He launched at her without hesitation, and she saw that this was perhaps what he needed. Perhaps he needed to relieve his stress, but she was ready.
Or so she thought.

She was used to watching deer, herds. Not used for the attacks. She didn't move quick enough to avoid the hooves. How did this lumbering idiot have such speed?!
She didn't have much time to think about that.

She only had time to present a shoulder, protecting her face like she always did. If there was an accident where her face was ripped, it would ruin everything for her. So, it was a priority. He had an injury though, she'd observed that. Pain blistered through her as jaws clamped on her, and she barked, trying not to twist too much; her skin would rip otherwise.

She twisted her head around, snapping for his pointed ear. An irritation to make him let go. Ears were sensitive.

The biggest oof

There was no need to think about why Vanity would demand a spar, they were all mercenaries after all; it was their desire to get stronger, to become better - and so such a thing seemed natural to him. 

The sweet tang of blood exploded in his mouth as he collided with her shoulder. Even if he did not get that target he desired, it gave him a thrill none the less.

Feeling her new target be his ear, he folded them back as much as possible but not quick enough. The sting flowed through him and instinctively he reared his head back just enough and followed through with a headbutt. It would cause some tearing, but at least it should stop her from chewing on it...

He ripped himself from her grasp, giving her a moment to breathe. A moment too short.
She turned to launch her attack only to see his head careening towards her, hitting her face on.
Her eyes shot wide open, head snapping up as she took stumbling steps backward.

This is a fight. You must not stop. If you stop you die.
You will die.

Fear. Panic.
It flooded her veins as her head rang, blocking out the sounds. The panting, snarling, wind in the trees.
Constant ringing.
Vanity lunged, being shorter and him recovering - though he probably already had like she had - she aimed to sweep past him, right for that injured leg. It would make him stop. Make him the one laying glassy-eyed, watching the world move by without knowing it.
To be remembered only on the mountain on the Day of the Dead. 

Round 3! Final

This was their first fight. Ever since Vanity had become a Nightwalker, he had not been given the opportunity to see what she is capable of. Though he had heard of her sparring against others, this was his first hands-on experience with the white-faced she-devil.

She was sneaky - but perhaps her bravado and incredible confidence was her downfall in this spar. She was too sure of her abilities, too certain that she could somehow outclass the Warlord with her wit against his muscle. As she stumbled it seemed the truth was revealed.

In a new attempt to get herself ahead in the fight, the woman ran past him to what he could only assume would be his leg. The weak spot. Still guarded by the tail that hung around it like a cloud, curved and poised, it shielded the leg just enough from further damage while taking on its own. The pain was incredible, anything that had to do with the spine, even a tail that was so close in proximity was painful. But it was not reopening his wound at least.

Taking this chance he curled around, perhaps he could get his tail free from her grasp too by simply pulling on it, allowing the fur to glide through her teeth, should her grip allow. Launching his own attack on her backside, he tried to grab hold of her rump, pulling at her leg with a paw at the same time to try and drag her closer.

Into the pit!

She snapped up a mouthful of...fluff?
It was pulled from her grasp a second later; it was his tail! What a deception! 
She was about to snap up his leg for real this time when her whole back end collapsed, dragging her small form just out of reach.
She wasn't quick enough with the world spinning.

This wasn't happening.
She'd stopped fighting, and she would not be gutted and left strewn about the Woods as he consumed her.
She kicked, her foot hitting something solid but squishy (Perhaps his eye or nose, she didn't feel many body parts with her rear feet.) She snarled, snapping at his forelegs now, squirming to get her body away from him. She needed to be free, needed to be better.

Be better you insolent child!

She snapped her teeth into thin air, trying to pull herself up to snatch his jugular. She would've if there wasn't panic.

It was just a spar. She demanded it as such too. The way things were turning out it was as if she feared for her life, that a spar would end in tragedy rather than them both learning a little more when it comes to battling. Something was wrong. She snapped and flailed about mindlessly like a fish out of water, the calculative woman he thought she was seemed to be lost in a flurry.

And unfortunately for her.

Vengeance was not the type to take pity or so much as care for one's sanity. She aimed for his jugular in the thrashing, and with a growl, he retaliated. Roughly grabbing the Lieutenant by the scruff and began to drag her to the one place he knew of that would give her time to think - or perhaps drive herself crazy out of his way. 

With tugs and drags, he brought her to the pit where the prisoners once were. Here she would decide her own fate after he carelessly tosses her in. For a moment he stood at the edge, looking down for what would come. What had gotten into her?

She found herself being dragged along, and after her failing struggle she went limp. She had to save something for the moment he would give her a glimmer of freedom. 

It didn’t come. 
Instread, her body rolled down the steep edge of the pit, her body not having time to gain control of itself and she lay limp at the bottom, panting for the air pressed from her lungs. She couldn’t believe it. Alive. Alone. 

She made to stand, but her muscles wouldn’t corporate and she didn’t move an inch. She accepted it instantly. She was too tired, her head hurt too much. 
And she closed her eyes on the world to rest.