Hideaway Strath I love that she’s got daddy issues
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#1
All Welcome 
Set directly after this thread.
Other Saints welcome to watch, but please don’t join in on the fight <3

Please allow Simmik to post first and then we can start the fight night >:>

@Simmik @Dragomir

Kynareth’s fight with the midnight male was fairly quick. The man is strong, full of potential, but Kyn got a lucky shot by knocking his skull onto a rock near the waterfall. It put him right to sleep. From then, he dragged the man back to his den. A fair distance away, but he’s not too worried about his pups seeing it. They’d be exposed to it one way or another. 

“Simmik!” He calls strongly. Not a demand, he knows well enough not to demand anything from her, only a summoning. 

It’s then he drops the stranger at his feet. Hunched over the Raven furred male with a look of both affection ans death in his eyes. They will tell Simmik all she needs to know. 

“A sacrifice for my goddess.” He purrs, unable to help the deep rumble of his voice regarding his wife and the gift he hopes she’d like.
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#2
Things had been tense between them. He had yet to prove anything to her, and until he did, he wouldn't get any affection or softness from her.

The day was hotter than she'd like, but the den still remained fairly cool. She lay on the cool ground, head resting on her paws as she watched the children sleep.

But eventually a voice boomed from outside, breaking the peaceful silence and waking the children. They recognized the sound of their father, but she quickly gave them a stern look. She scented a stranger as well, and anger bubbled up in her stomach. Why would he bring a stranger to their den where their children slept? Stay here, she told them, her tone making it clear she expected to be obeyed. Whether or not they would listen, was to be determined. They were at the age where they started pushing boundaries.

She trotted outside as he spoke again. Her anger melted into intrigue and maybe even a little pride. She looked between the unconscious male and her husband a few times before taking a seat, her expression expectant as a pleased smirk curved one side of her lips.
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Dragomir drifted in and out of consciousness during the trip from the falls to Kynareth's pit of despair. No matter how much he tried to scrabble for a hold on it, the black always rose up again. He bumped along the ground, his weight no match for the towering brute who had taken him, and struggled through memories of his past where this exact same thing had happened once before.

Vercingetorix might shake his head with disappointment to know his son had learned nothing since then. Merrick got the jump on him just as easily. At least back then, Dragomir had an excuse. He was a naive kid. This time? This time, he allowed himself to become too comfortable with the company he kept and failed to sense the danger in the unknown before it was too late.

His bouts of consciousness grew longer the closer they drew to the heart of Saints territory. Sometimes he even kicked or struggled to get away. Blood weeped from a wound that webbed out from the point of impact on the back of his head, and even when he was coherent, it felt like Dragomir was trying to conduct his thoughts through a vat of jelly. Even when his giant striped captor let him slump to the ground and declared him a sacrifice, it took Dragomir several long seconds to put together what those words even meant.

That was when panic and dread mixed volatile in his stomach, pushing him to his feet with a wild glance around for some means of escape. He was back in that cave on the mountain, a terrified little boy on the verge of pissing himself, with two monsters staring down at him. But this time, his assailants were not the type to play with their victims. This time, he would have to fight for his life... or surely lose it.

Dragomir bared his teeth at the two wolves, coiling back on himself like a viper.
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#4
possibly a cameo, feel free to skip me in the order.

the daimyo crosses the northern barrier with a bellow.
satsu has been keeping herself busy among the flowers, having gone nose-blind to the pollen, his arrival brings the scent of blood which perfumes the air. the girl is intrigued — not so much worried, as the lord is a mighty giant who could withstand battle.
as she finds her way to where he waits, she spies the pale shape of a woman; then there, beneath, a struggling young man.
he is a wild and bloodied thing.
satsu's heart goes out to him. she does not know what is going on and so she remains silent and watchful, but a frown knits across her face. kyn-dono looks pleased with himself and all that satsu can think of is their hunt, and the way he thrashed the deer to pieces.
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The midnight wolf had begun to wake; with the occasional kick or struggle here and there, Kyn’s not terribly worried. Though when he finally drops him, calls Simmik’s name, and speaks of his sacrifice, his heart melts in his chest at the clear satisfaction that shows on her pale face. Those fiery eyes that stare back at him — he lives for this, lives for her.

It’s then such a violent bloodlust wakes in his veins. He needs to impress his goddess. Oh, he will. He’d murder this stranger in cold blood and add him to the gates of their threshold.

When the Grandmaster is finally able to pull his gaze from his wife, he notices too much movement below. He reacts quick, stepping back before the male can fully come to. The male’s hackles are raised, violent fear swirling in his eyes. He knows a fight for his life is next, only Kyn will not be letting him live.

With that thought, a sickening smile stretches his lips, lips curling, maw wrinkling, to reveal long, dangerous teeth. Blissfully unaware of his new audience, Satsu, he carried on per usual. Finally allowing himself to lunge towards the other beast of a man. Curled tail wagging and razor blade fangs opened and ready to pierce. 

Kynareth aims for the man’s face, to rip, slash, and maim. If the other male fights back and is ready enough for his attack, they’d probably clack teeth, spittle and blood flying in every which direction. Either way, the Grandmaster would aim to poke out an eye first, maybe two, before moving onto more serious areas.
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Vein awoke that morning and slipped deep into the caves making a poppy tea to ease the pain of his long since healed ribs and drank deeply after it had steeped as long as he could let it. His mind felt warm and yet muddled as he left the caves enjoying the heavy feeling of his body at the opium kicked in. He was supposed to be looking for more herbs but as he meandered the wood he came upon a smell he knew all to well

He smelled blood, but no prey animals so he followed the blessed scent and he came upon a scene that made him grin in anticipation, his hackles rose in arousal making his large form appear even larger. If more blood were to be spilled this today perchance he could offer the heart to the gods and bring more good will from the gods upon them, they were to go to war soon if the murmurings were correct and every blessing would count.

Though should the grand master offered the heart to his lady it would still be a sacrifice well spent He rich baritone was almost husky as his eyes fell upon the hapless male “May I help, My Lord?” We was ready to lunge but not without a command.
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#7
Baring his teeth was not enough to ward off an attack.

Dragomir was a trained warrior. He had trained under Hydra for offense and Arcturus for defense, and knew enough to keep himself alive in ordinary circumstances. These were not ordinary. Kynareth had at least 70 pounds on him and was built like a boulder. Dragomir knew bigger wasn't always better, but when he was trapped like this — none of the wolves gathering would let him escape — it wouldn't take very many blows to bring him to his knees.

He fought for all he was worth. His teeth met Kynareth's with a loud clack that knocked one of his canines completely free and filled his mouth with blood. Whatever wounds he managed to inflict on the master of the Saints paled compared to the ones he sustained. An ear ripped off, first, then the rake of teeth across one eye. Tears all over his muzzle and cheeks. At one point, Kynareth sliced clean through the side of his lip. His nose, shredded. His other eye, forced closed by the pour of blood from a wound over his brow.

Breathing raggedly, Dragomir attempted to back away from Kynareth, attempted to drag his muzzle down over his throat. He was losing too much blood to continue fighting offensively; now it was time to cling to life and hope to god he found an opening for a mortal strike.
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#8
exit!
the priest arrived.
satsu was unaware of vein until he was there beside the daimyo; even so, she was watching in a horrified manner as the boy in the pit was set upon.
reminded of her own brothers—of how they would have stood gracefully aligned as their lives were taken, as they were noble of bearing. how badly she wished they would have fought like this boy.

to what end, though?kyn-dono had the taste of blood upon his tongue.
satsu could feel the sakki of the master, bolstered by the growing desire within vein, the watching eyes of simmik—!

these were true barbarians!

satsu could have spoken up. she had wanted to. what was the boy's crime? who was he? was his family the wronged one, which incited war?

but no, she would not ask. it was not her place. her tongue was tied by the horror of it; so instead satsu would choose the same thing now as she had when her han fell:
tuck tail and run.
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Kynareth teeth fly violently, muscles bunch and unwind beneath a camouflage coat, and all he sees is red. He wants nothing more than to please his wife and he would gain her favor back with this man’s blood. He knows he will. 

So as he attacks, he rips and shreds; knocks out a tooth as well. Of course he does not go by unscathed. The man is fighting for his life and Kyn expects it to be a blood battle for the both of them. He wants it to be. Too easy of a kill wouldn’t be satisfying for him or the surrounding watchers. The Grandmaster has to put on a show. 

He notices now that Vein has joined in on the mix, politely asking if he may join or help. In any other case, he would’ve loved to watch the easy going medic rip someone to shreds with him, but today is his day — his and Simmik’s. 

Satisfaction boils beneath his his heated skin as he watches the other struggle to open his eyes. It’s a gory, bloody scene and this is what he’s been craving the past few weeks. His never ending bloodlust doesn’t let him rest and he needs more. So as the other backs up to take up, what Kyn believes is a more defensive position, he notices another shift in his stature. This one is offensive and Kyn is sooo fucking ready for the onslaught of teeth that are about to come his way. 

So before he lunges forward he offers a quick glance to Vein with a wretched and sadistic smirk on his bloody maw. “No thanks, love. I need this.” To Dragomir, it would appear that Kyn thinks this is all a fucked up little game. And to him, it is.

Though, it appears Kyn spoke too soon. Despite his other wounds, much like Dragomir’s own, he’s fairing quite well. With a torn up face, bleeding gums, cut tongue, and ripped ear. 

Until this stranger actually fights back. 

Kyn’s almost blindsided, slightly surprised, when Dragomir lunges towards him. The Grandmaster wouldn’t be fast enough to dodge the bite. Teeth would cut deep into his throat and he would choke from the grip on his trachea. Falling intentionally onto his back, he wraps thick arms around the others neck and smirks as much as he can with jaws wrapped around his neck. Relying on his strong hind legs to kick out beneath him. He aims for the ribs, groin, the others own hind legs. If he’s successful in any of his attacks he would attempt a mount — twitching their positions and wrestling himself on top of him in order to settle his own pearly whites around the others throat.

In the back of his mind he sees everything though. Vein standing politely nearby with that cunning smirk of his face. Simmik’s own devious smile and the fact that her eyes are on him — horribly enraptured by the fight to the death. And out of the corner of his eye, he sees Satsu, eyes wide as she watches the scene before he. An innocent man being brought to his knees with the threat of death looming over head. She leaves. He’s almost disappointed. He’d have to speak with her later. Hopefully he hasn’t traumatized her too much.
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She watched, saying nothing even as others joined them. There was nothing that needed said; Ky knew what he must do. 

Excitement filled her veins as her husband spilled the captive's blood; the scent filled her nose and made her heart race in her chest. Vein offered to help, and she watched with curiosity in her bright eyes as she waited for his answer—she hoped it would be the right one. She smiled when he turned down any assistance, proud that he had been on the same page as her; it meant that he really meant what he said this time. He was trying to prove himself to her, and it was something he needed to do on his own if he wanted to win her affection and respect again.

Her smiled faded as a look of exhilarated focus tightened her expression. The captive attempted to fight back, as most would do when their life was at stake. There was no fear in her gaze as the man's teeth found Ky's throat; she had faith that he would win this. Of course, she wouldn't want him to give his life for her. She loved him still even if he had continuously trampled on her trust and broke his promises to her. It was a deep, unfaltering love she knew would never diminish. She didn't care that he didn't seem to deserve it at times; there was no turning it off. 

So she watched, her eyes glued only to her mate, the father of her children. And she waited to see how he would get himself out of the captive's hold.
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Dragomir wasn't entirely sure how he managed to get his teeth into the Grandmaster's throat; moments were blurring together into red-streaked eons in his mind. It wasn't important. What was important was that he had the master of the Saints at his mercy for a split second, and he hesitated.

Hydra and Arcturus both flashed before his eyes, their disappointed expressions burning into his veins. A brown-and-black furred boy from Firehawks with his teeth in Dragomir's throat bubbled up in his memories; he remembered how the boy had let him live. With his life on the line, Dragomir should not have been worried about the moral implications of killing Kynareth — this man had taken him captive and meant to spill his life's blood on the ground!

But he hesitated, grappling with the notion of actually killing someone, and it was the split second Kynareth needed to flip the script. Dragomir ground his teeth together, squeezing the man's throat, but it was too late to do any lasting damage; he was flipped onto his back, forced to let go by the weight of the man on him, and then teeth found their mark in his throat.

It was like letting the air out of a balloon. A gaping hole opened in his throat, almost harmless for just a moment, and then blood rapidly began pooling into his airways. Dragomir gasped and coughed, spewing flecks of blood into the Grandmaster's face. It was remarkably painless, but not without its own brand of suffering. His eyes bugged as he tried to pull in a breath and drowned in his own blood.

Weak kicks of his hind legs were all he could manage before blackness rose up and embraced him. It happened very quickly, ending with a few resistant convulsions of his body before he laid still.
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The man is at his throat, teeth held firmly in place by strong jaws. The man has potential to be a grand warrior. 

But he hesitates. And hesitation kills.

Kyn, ever the opportunist, senses this just as quickly as it happens. His killer instinct is like a sixth sense to him, honed so well after so many years of battling and killing. He lives for this. It seems this stranger has never had such a life as him.

So, taking advantage of the others mistake, he turns the tables. He feels teeth snag on his throat, ruining fur, exposing flesh, drawing blood. It doesn’t stop him for one second. He’s made for this, he loves this, he needs this. When the Grandmaster settles his weight on top of him and snatches the other’s throat up in an unrelenting grip, he clenched his jaw as hard as he can, puncturing Dragomir’s windpipe. He hears a wet, strangled cough and wheezing. Yes. He loosens his grip and bites again just as his father told him. With his chest heaving, he steps to the side of his body, widens his stance, and shakes.

Blood flies everywhere. Savage growls muffle against the body in his deathly grasp. He whips the other body about the ground, kicking up dirt and grass at the effort. He’s putting in his all, so much so he feels bones crack and the others body go lifeless faster than he anticipates. Only then, after a few more unnecessary shakes, does he leg go. The body falling lifeless to the ground in a dirty puddle of his and Donovan’s blood. 

Golden orbs stare at the disfigured body beneath him. His tongue falls from his mouth, dripping with red and drool alike — teeth coated it in it. His chest is splattered in it, face completely smeared with it. He looks like an absolute monster covered in the life force of another being just like him. But he’s not like him because Donovan is a survivor — superior in every way. 

It’s then that his gaze leaves the wolf below him, limp with no more signs of life. He’s stolen it. No, now his attention is on the woman he kills for. 

He turns his head to meet Simmik’s eyes, smirk lining his bloody maw as he saunters closer to her. Kyn stops only when he’s reached her, dark tongue moving playfully over his whiskered and scarred lips. He closes in, rubbing his thick, bloody head against her neck and scenting her with death. 

He pulls back merely an inch to brush against her cheek and whisper feather light words into her ear, voice deep and purring — aroused by the sight before him. “Have I won your affections back, my love?”