A muted sun hides beneath a swath of cloud, demurely illuminating the valleys below in drab colors. It is cold, as if the last vestiges of frostfall have decided to mourn the passing of their season, seeping into his bones like some wicked disease. The mousy dun stands low and crouched against a relentless wind, auburn mane afire as it writhes and dances in thrall. "Dauntless," he hails, sinister and soft, rasping grass with a stone cast hoof. "Fight or kneel, like your Svetlana." There is a taint of irony in his voice; he knows this situation all too well, although he doubts the mighty Dauntless will kneel half as well as the Storm Chaser. He laughs at the image - Archibald will still be twice his height on those clean white knees!
Dei makes smart rounds overhead, outlined by the dull, anemic clouds in a halo of dusky bronze. The black draft had wanted a challenge, and even Jackal could see it in his eyes when they last met. The Dauntless had been disappointed in him, like one whose lover has abandoned them for another, and his words still sing terse and loud against the clangor of his skull. I am doing you a favor, the King of Thieves muses, I am proving your worth, like I did with the pale mare you were so fond of. The dun thrusts his rust-lacquered head upward and regards the sky with vague amusement, a colorless sky reflecting in his colorless eyes like the kiss of a ghost.
He had expected to see more of the brothers (how were they brothers, anyways? One was gigantic, and the other was small and meek and stony) during his patrols and his trips to the Threshold, but they are rare, elusive creatures. Jackal wonders mildly if they are allergic to living organisms, or dead, and raised by some sort of sorcery, or just apathetic. Even Svetlana, with her asinine haughtiness, had made herself known to her people - even in her downfall, she sought them out. The appaloosa remembers the encounter by the waterfall bitterly; it was like a slap to the face when she had returned to rouse the herd, but he is glad no one came to meet her except for the dark brothers, Maskan and Madyrn. Worthy warriors, he decides, not for the first time, and surely not for the last. If half their regiment were as steadfast as them, the Foothills would not be so defenseless - they are like ducks, swimming in a pond with slavering foxes perched on the shore. And at whose fault is that?
The King of Thieves waits for his assailant with all the patience of an electric youth, sorely wishing Dei could still speak to him, and that he wasn't so alone in this desolate, pale world.
(Jackal is challenging Archibald - if he wins, Jackal intends to demote Archibald. If Archibald wins, he has all the rights to demote Jackal. 4 posts each, 1 defense, you can go first. Good luck!)
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david and goliath, archibald challenge
