Murdock approached, followed by no pomp and circumstance. Archibald had pegged this man to be a humble warrior, well-trained in his time, and loyal. It seemed his solidarity was correct, for the stallion did not throw himself around before Archibald in an attempt to show strength, power, or dominance. The brute's golden eyes narrowed some on the stallion, his stoney features hard set as the winged man spoke. Turning to look down at Loretta, the Dauntless nodded his head deeply. "Be gone." He stated. With a growl of rebellion and displeasure, Loretta sprinted away, shouting expletives towards the winged one through her mental bond with Archibald. The warlord merely shook his head, though the rage his companion felt at being left out tickled his heart. "She is a fierce beast, you made a wise choice." His voice was deep and gruff, full of wisdom and experience and strength. Archibald nodded to the black pegasus, his quip lost on Archibald. He had no time for jesting today. This was business, and it needed to be finished quickly. He had a newly pregnant wife to find and care for.

Archibald's thick neck arched and his chin dropped, protecting his throat. Inky ears were lost in thick tendrils of his mane as they snapped down, pressed hard against his nape to keep them from sinking between misplaced teeth. A snort left Archibald's nostrils as he prepared himself for the battle, shifting his weight backwards some to rest on his immensely powerful haunches. The titan waited, ready for Murdock to come barrelling into him. The pegasus was tall and thin, and strength would definitely be in Archibald's favor today--as it always was. The pegasus reminded him of a thinner version of Paladin--much like Ophelia--and Archibald had seen just how quickly both of those crimson-marked unicorns had moved across the battlefield. Just as he had wanted, Murdock came straight for Archibald's right side, a rocket with wings. Archibald was already braced in the sand, and just as Murdock came within an inch or so of him, he surged forward some. He wanted to hit the pegasus head-on, like a hurricane, but Murdock had shifted too-far to the right and moved past him. However, Archibald shot his head out, lowering his neck. He attempted to bite at Murdock's right wing joint, an attempt to keep the stallion grounded.

Archibald's forward movement and lowered neck brought the pegasus stallion's teeth to clamp quickly over the burn scar on the right side of his neck. The bite was fleeting, and caused little reaction in the hulking behemoth. A slight twitch in his face, knowing Murdock had in fact bitten him. His nerves, however, had been damaged beyond repair from the lick of dragon fire, given him so many years ago as he defended his title valiantly and ferociously on the muddy hillsides of the Foothills. Thus, while the bite may cause some damage and bruising, Archibald would feel little, if nothing from it. Archibald turned his body around, watching as the stallion unfurled his wings and bound away. Archibald snorted at the ploy. The pegasus was doing all he could to utilize his speed and agility, Archibald could see. Locket had done the same thing, the panda painted arabian bounding away and coming in hot and fast for each attack, putting space between him and Archibald. A small smirk licked the corners of Archibald's pale lips, and he struck the smooth sand with a giant forehoof. Without a blink between, the Dauntless cantered toward Murdock. Deep, powerful tremors surged out before Archibald. He attempted to close the distance between him and the winged stallion, lifting his head some in his charge, protecting his jaws from flailing back legs, should they appear. Archibald's heavy hooves moved skillfully over the shaking world, his magic so innate in his being and such a familiar sword during battle that he had mastered maneuvering over it.

When the beast believed to be in the precise distance to the protector, he shot his head out again. Lips peeled away from his blunt teeth and he tried to plant a painful bite to Murdock's croup. The sand still rumbled beneath his feet, and Archibald suddenly stopped, planting his weight down and center, hoping Murdock would turn and face him head on once more. Should he decide otherwise, Archibald had more tricks up his stockings. The sand held him well, the thick footing of the arena such an excellent choice for today's dance.



[WC: 747 | PC: 1/3 | Setting: On the Sky Island, in the sand arena. Midday, bright sun and mild temperature. Small breeze and very few clouds in the sky.] @[Murdock]