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Map of Doutaini

Winter Icon © kaiathedragon13
Current Layout Image © Sea
Map Drawing © Doodle
Coding © Tempy & Doutaini Staff
Original Content © Kaji & Crux
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Posted 01-04-2018, 11:26 PM |
Rebel Sub-Alpha
Male, 3.75
37 in, 140 lbs
175 ep
© Apax
Charlotte @[Bjorn] Famine Badr just tagged some peeps

i don’t pay for suits. my suits are on the house or the house burns down.

a calvary in the making, refined steel, pristine in its smooth chainmail and hooks that wrap. he is a combine, an colossal being that is mere small among the ruins that tower him. stone and clay, the years that tell their stories in the ridges and grooves. he imagines that battles in their ripe state, stones falling from atop men as they thrash and throw themselves agaisnt the grain of a knife. for glory, for women, for the crown, and all three for those religious in their wants and demands. him? raw and defined in his passion for what is caught in between his paw pads. the ash and clay that litters his legs, the burns that tried to falter a heart filled with explosives by the barrel. cold eyes, cold nose. he is raw to them as his throat belts out for Bjorn in the battle that he waited all winter. self discovery, self consumption, realizing truly what he wants in the heart of doutaini. in its mountain ranges are his family, blood-borne. (mother, where are you?)

he is all out to the, his family, his brotherhood. he is raw and exposed for the needle and pinprick of his life.

roswell vs bjorn
for sub-alpha
permission granted from charlotte
move 0 of 3?
time limit: 5 days
States Enabled
Endomorph, 37, 140.
(I'm not sure what the winter health status is, but he will be the best there is!)
Spar History- 2-1-2

Posted 01-06-2018, 02:03 PM |
Rebel Heir
Male, 1.75
38 in, 140 lbs
39 ep
© vik
This was a man he could call brother. Truly, and without hesitation.

Vahagn heeded his call as soon as he heard it. He went down into the Ruins and found Roswell standing like an iron soldier amidst titans of old stone. Impressive in height and breadth, ribboned in old scars. A war machine, surrounded by echoes of blood and glory in every pillar and every rock. Conquerors laid waste here, justice meted out, valor proved, and enemies crushed. The Ruins were a cradle of civilization. Barbaric and necessary. And here, Roswell volunteered to be yet another player on the stage.

The youth trotted heavily onto the sidelines, his ears pricked and his pale pine-colored eyes narrowed slightly, thoughtfully. He raised his chin in salute to his clansman before coming to stand still at the nearest boundary of the arena where he would have the best view. He had not seen Bjorn in a long time, though. Perhaps no violence would come. "Fight well," he said simply, voice awkwardly caught somewhere between the rumble of an earthquake and the pitch of creaking ship timbers. He ignored it, as ever, merely huffing in amusement as he gave his Red-Brother a submissive nod.
- watching

Posted 01-06-2018, 04:05 PM |
Rebel Scion
Female, 2.00
14 in, 34 lbs
30 ep
© Fluttershy

always get what they're after!

to kill or be killed state of mind! anything to stay alive Rebel seemed quite busy as of late with many newcomers, teachings, and spars. She heard the call of Roswell, the echo traveling over the Ridge. Praelia never passed up a chance to watch a spar, a fight, a battle, and swiftly let her paws carry her body across the sands and clay. She saw her little brother there already, taking a seat beside the arena to be witness to this battle. She saddled up beside him, looking onwards towards Roswell who stood at the head. He had been the one to call this match and she only hoped it would prove a good one. She dipped her head towards him, as though some sort of luck was wished, before she awaited the arrival of the one he challenged. She, too, had not seen Bjorn around much as of late, but it didn't matter.

praelia is watching

Posted 01-06-2018, 10:14 PM |
Rebel Wolf
Female, 3.75
33 in, 115 lbs
130 ep
© riv

she bites at her tongue as she hears the familiar voice. heart jumping almost as she makes it out. a smile would’ve stretched across her lips had it been under different circumstances. returning to the pit once more for a second chance at witnessing a challenge. she takes her time, slowing weaving through the greenery to the ruins. lips raw from the effects of winter, it seems like it had been too long since she had seen him. a lot had changed as winter had grown on and spring came along. remembering the moments spent with the clay man. admiring him for his nobility and kindness that he had shown to a stranger. she searches the crowd for him, and had it been different she would’ve rushed forward towards him. but instead she stays composed. eyes falling onto the two young rebel wolves instead. the distinct smell of clay and ash hitting her, making her ache to see the ridge again. she sits off the sidelines, offering attentive eyes to roswell. a man does what he must. ears flicking back as she lets her head stoop for a moment, hoping that the pair would have time to spend after the battle would cease. even if that meant she would spend her time nursing his wounds.

badr is watching

Posted 01-07-2018, 08:03 PM |
Rebel Alpha
Female, 6.50
40 in, 100 lbs
519 ep
© Lou
Initiative. It was a fine thing and something Charlotte held quite close to her heart. Even if it was Roswell who was making the call. She loved the Valentine boy, though he would no doubt revolt at the sight of her, she wanted to see him do well. Be well. He would no doubt lead Rebel into greater things long after her last breath was taken. She comes forth now, the arena of stones and broken pillars a place that reminded her of home, of the ridge and of the place before. Darkness hangs from her like a cloak of shadows, muscles rigid beneath her thin skin, those thick bones creak in protest as she leaps. "A challenge?" She hisses, ears dipped forwards as she pads passed Vahagn first and attempts to bop him atop his sweet head, if he'd allow her the affectionate humility. Prae is also there and Charlotte meanders towards her daughter with a smile and a place of lips to the girls forehead, "I'm glad." and finally do her eyes shift to Roswell, the words are for him, the smile; for him. She nods her head as she takes a seat somewhere off to the side where she can see, though she doubts Bjorn will arrive at all, he had been gone for too long now, he was not with them anymore- she could feel it. "I will be glad to have you," she whispers as she settles in, and the words could be just as much for Bjorn as they were for Roswell.


Charlotte is riddled with scars from head to toe, the right side of her face is bare of fur, and both her ears are in tatters at the tips.

Posted 01-07-2018, 10:52 PM | This post was last modified: 01-07-2018, 10:53 PM by Akuma
Earth Scout
Male, 4.50
36 in, 133 lbs
68 ep
© Tae
The challenge hadn't gone unnoticed. He had been scouting the borders at it reached his ears. He finished up his job, shaking his fur before setting off. It was his duty to see to political issues. Challenges counted as such.
Upon arrival his eyes would hungrily dance upon who were present. These wolves had no necklace, but they smelled of one another. Perhaps Rebel? He had heard about them, but never seen. His cyan eyes finally feel on Badr and a thin smile would spread across cracked lips. He trotted in her direction, tail swaying softly in a friendly gesture. He took a spot next to her, attempting to brush against her side in a warm gesture. He would settle down next to the dame, eyes kept forward and ears perked.

Adopt one today!

Posted 01-10-2018, 03:28 PM |
OOC Account
Female, 29.00
--- in, --- lbs
0 ep
© Julie
STAFF NOTE: Having exceeded the deadline, this spar has defaulted in favor of Roswell.

contact julie
( liorelysia #5051) • ( liorelysia ) •
( liorelysia ) • ( liorelysia@gmail.com )

Posted 01-10-2018, 08:03 PM |
Rebel Sub-Alpha
Male, 3.75
37 in, 140 lbs
175 ep
© Apax
silence, it draws him in a case of little poise. there is no special fever, or the way his toes cling to the dry earth. it is not a dance, the battle that is consumed in war-time cries. the beat of a drum that signals a front line to proceed and take spears through shields and the hearts of the weak. Vahagn is the first to arrive and there is a moment he takes. grey chainmail that rifles to the sound, paranoid of being assaulted with unlawful ambushes in a time of war. this is mine, and it always has been. a next generation, a carcass of the future and his urgency is something that he is envious of his youth. there is a subtle nod of his head to his words, an appreciation and a lingering eye that waits for those to arrive.

there are distractions, badr in her sheek coat of white feathers. a glossed lip and bound hair, he is distracted in the fever of his heart. a subtle fix, a change from the scenery of the dead and bruised. charlotte, and her hissing that only brings his lips up in response. a poise of his standing, bright peak and exposed. his heart still settles in his words the day he felt her muscles crack between his teeth. he would take her as a fool if this is anything but working beside her, not beyond her shoulder. his head twists, a sudden jerk that catches Akuma at Badrs side. the closeness, the gems at their throat he hadn't noticed until that moment. lips part, he is caught in an fever of disbelief and annoyance but there is patience that draws his eyes back to charlotte in the realization that Bjorn would not be showing. "if you thought that fool had any chance while I still breathe.." a settlement, a firm fact that brought his eyes back to Badr and Akuma. a flatten of his ears, folding back in the breeze and to his displeasure his body moves forward. "fuck off from her or i'll send you back to the woods in pieces" a threat, subtle and kept quiet through pursed lips.

Posted 01-11-2018, 11:47 AM |
Rebel Heir
Male, 1.75
38 in, 140 lbs
39 ep
© vik
It was good to see Praelia here. Her silent presence was a balm, as comforting as a sturdy blade at his side. He aimed to brush the underside of his muzzle against her shoulder, inhaling the scent of clay and dust on her fur while his gaze fell upon the newcomer. He considered her through hooded eyes, tracing the green gem at her neck, failing to see her motivation for being here. The question prickled under his skin but remained unspoken. Charlotte intercepted his gaze and drew his focus when she bopped his forehead. Vahagn sighed irritably, only glancing at the final green-collared spectator as if the other man was a bothersome fly.

Roswell stood as one ready for war, far more interesting than the faces in the crowd. The boy's inexperienced eyes studied him intensely, imagining how it must feel to command such hostility. But it did not take long to know there would be no opposition to match it. Given his absence, Bjorn deserved the derision. Vahagn chuckled.
He turned his attention to the two green-garbed wolves. Mysterious, silent, intruding. A single ear twisted toward Roswell and the threat he leveled at the one. His gaze flicked to the male, scrutinizing him with flickers of disdain and boredom in his hollow green eyes. Vahagn stood as if looking down upon an earthworm rather than a man. The intensity of his gaze implied he was keen to rally behind his new alpha should Roswell deign to crush Akuma in his jaws.

Posted 01-19-2018, 11:58 PM |
Rebel Scout
Male, 3.25
35 in, 125 lbs
50 ep
© vik
- yeah, gun in one hand, blade in the other -

Somehow, the call was less surprising than he expected. He hadn't seen Roswell or Bjorn around for a while, but he knew enough about them to know of their rivalry. He didn't make a point of keeping tabs on them, so not seeing them around meant jack shit. In general, barring some exceptions, the Rebel males tended to be insufferable, and lately, he didn't have the inclination nor the patience to give them the time of day. With a low, irritated growl, he rolled over from his shady spot, stood, and stretched. If it weren't for the fact this challenge affected his family - even tangentially - he wouldn't have even bothered showing. He shoved aside the fact it was his duty as a Rebel. It didn't matter.

So, slowly, he made his way to the Ruins, and slowly, he found the arena in which the Rebels stood. He stood on a ledge above them in the background. Roswell was there, of course. Bjorn wasn't. The green necklaces snatched his interest, but only barely. Based on what he was seeing, Roswell fancied one of them. Kynaios sighed and furrowed his brow. It reeked of bullshit down there. He worked his jaw as he dropped his head, ears pricked, standing in place. He didn't intend to jump down there and help anyone, but he'd remain to see the outcome. That was the only thing he was interested in.
-stops in for a minute just to see