Both black bastards before the Dauntless and his bitch move backwards, away from their power. Loretta, successful in her magical grasp on the younger canine, snarls again deeply. Her teeth find purchase on his scruff, the taste of him a bitter mixture of dandruff and sweat that makes the female, momentarily, want to spit him from her jaws. However, her desire to make him submit beneath her is too dominant over the sick taste. Flashes of her black sister, Manhattan, flew through her mind. She had wanted the younger dog to cry out and roll over when she had attacked Archibald, and she felt it amplified towards this creature before her. Loretta was, by her nature, an aggressive beast, but today the thirst for blood and power fueled her muscles and pushed her on. The oddly-marked wolf-creature shook himself free of her bite, but her shoulder had also hit him. Her ears stayed pinned to keep from adding another knick, her toes splayed wide as she twisted in the snow.

Kirchoff was a bolt of lightning as he slipped from her magic, leaving a trail of silver behind him that startled the malamute. She had never seen this sort of dance before, and her eyes widened slightly, showing her surprise. The red and white twisted as fast as she could manage in the snow, swinging her hips away from the black's teeth. Loretta jumped forward after twisting away, but found herself too slow. Kirchoff's speed was unpredictable, and he managed to snap his teeth over the right side of her scruff. Loretta's vocal chords vibrated out with an angry, sickening growl as she twisted and pulled back from the younger canine's jaws. His teeth punctured down, but it was only skin damage. Thankful to her breed and ancestors, Loretta's scuff was thick and her skin was plenty, pulling away from vital places that surely would have made her bondmate turn to kill the hellhound. Throwing her head towards where Kirchoff had bitten her, Loretta attempted to snap her jaws viciously on the right side of his cheek or upper neck area, her ears still pinned and body beginning to shake with rage.

Through the tremor, the Dauntless followed his opponent up the steps of the Rotunda. His hooves slid just an inch on the stoney surface, but Archibald adjusted carefully. He had never fought on stone before, but it was not much different than the hard mountains of the Foothills, and Archibald knew how to maneuver them in any weather, and his adjustment served well.

In this scramble between horse and dog, Archibald also had success in his attack, even if it was not his original target. Off-white teeth snapped over the unicorn's hip and Archibald's tail swished harshly against his hind legs, displaying his satisfaction but malicious intentions for the rest of his spat. Metal-wrapped hooves found no purchase on the smaller stallion's legs, and as Archibald pulled himself away from Ulrik to charge his second attack, the smaller stallion smacked him with a cloven hoof. Pain, blunt and warm, ripped across scarred skin and into his muscles. Ulrik's attack landed on Archibald's right shoulder, behind his joint and under his scapular spine. It throbbed already, even as the Dauntless rammed towards Ulrik. He had turned to face the Basin stallion for that attack, leaving his left side open to the assault of horns. Archibald turned hard, sliding his hips away from the oncoming swords, but the longest was able to snatch his left ribcage. A long, albeit shallow, slice went down half the length of his ribcage. Archibald grunted and pulled in a breath, the pain greater than the kick to his shoulder.

It was an odd reality, the sharpness and dangerousness of unicorn horns. Archibald had his fair share of scars from their attacks on his midnight pelt, mostly from cuts much like the one Ulrik had planted on his ribs. Leyra had made a similar attack, all those years ago when they fought in the forest. Archibald had defeated her with ease, but she left her horn-kiss on his hide. The stinging rang through his body, down his barrel and into his shoulder. The warlord knew that the two attacks landing on opposite sides of his body would help him, the pain evening out across his mammoth frame. Gritting his teeth, Archibald kicked up his hind hooves, hoping to collapse Ulrik's skull with his horseshoes. His kick was aimed to hopefully demolish the other stallion's face, though both hooves rammed out, causing the warlord to hope that one would hit his face and the other his neck or upper-shoulder. As Archibald's hooves found purchase again, he lifted his head to save himself from Ulrik's own rear hooves, and sent his bone magic towards the other stallion.





[WC: 800 | PC: 2/3 | Def: 0/1 | Magic restrictions: Tremor, 1/2; Bone; 1/--; Companion: 1/-- || Magic used: :: [Magic: Earth (U) | The ability to turn another's bones to stone, causing immobilization or slower movement.]
:: [Restrictions | Bones are turned to actual stone; the effects will wear off gradually. In battle, attack lasts for 50 seconds. Can only be used once in a post.]]
****Edited to tag @[Ulrik]