The mountain’s charge was not in vain, with his pearled weapons grazing harshly over charred flesh. The taste was foul, but the shriek that followed the assault was fulfilling. With a successful attack through, the Dauntless thrust his head the opposite way in a protective manner, should any attempt be made on it, though his eye rotated to stay firm on Lace’s movements. The pitch black warrior grunted as his hooves collided with the sodden, foamy earth, negative in their advance for Lace’s damaged legs. Narrowing his gaze, Archibald decided on his next attack, even as he skimmed his body over the length of the grulla’s, nearly throwing him to the side, almost a victim to lost balance. A flash of silver from the corner of Archibald’s eye alerted him to Lace’s attack. The golden-bakced glazier’s face was darting down, aiming to land a damaging blow to one of the draft’s legs. Fool. Shifting his weight quickly, Archibald gathered his balance and swung his hips towards Lace. As he did so, he felt the sting of Lace’s teeth grazing over the top part of his stifle, on the right side, causing the Dauntless to suck in a sharp, short breath. In retaliation, the midnight combatant threw his weight forward and lifted his hind off the ground, behemoth, deadly hooves aimed to what Archibald hoped to be Lace’s head. Even if he could just clip his jaw, the power behind Archibald’s attack had the potential to be detrimental. A determined, dark, malicious smirk began to form in the corners of the warlord’s taught lips.

His hind hooves landed on the ground with a hollow, loud thump, just as Lace’s hooves struck out. They hit nothing but air, throwing moss and dirt into the air, because of Archibald’s new perpendicular proximity to the bloodied stallion. Taking this to his intended advantage, Archibald turned his rump further to the left, simultaneously he moved back two quick steps. Again, the Dauntless shifted his weight forward and threw his hind hooves towards his opponent, hoping to strike the stallion’s side. Archibald hoped to crack ribs, knowing his hooves have easily broken bones before, but even the huff and clash from Lace losing his breath would give the black knight a sense of victory. In this battle, Archibald knew it was his power that he needed to use to overwhelm the grullo. Like Locket, Lace by breed could dance away from Archibald’s attacks, and hit him swiftly, before fleeing once more. However, Archibald did not think Lace would be moving very quickly with the injuries that clogged Archibald’s nose with the scent of blood and burned skin.

In these moments, the General’s thoughts were moving quickly. He remembered the two other invasions his hooves had shed blood in, and he thought of Ailith. Lace and Ailith were built similarly, and Archibald had used his might to overwhelm the mare just as he was attempting to do with Lace now. He also remembered the growing sunlight that lifted with each moment of that war, and inside, for an instant, he yearned for the sun to burst through the sky in that exact moment. The coldness of the World’s Edge bit at Archibald’s skin, the mist eerily looming around the dancing, dueling quad of combatants, continuously reminding the knight how far from home he was. His body was not afraid of the cold, however, his fur still thick from spending most of the Frostfall in the north. The darkness would have been disastrous for this battle, but the fog above them laminated the clearing, absorbing the moon’s light and seeming to throw it back upon them, like a scorned lover throws a marriage.

Loretta, waiting for the precise moment to attack, watched in the trees above her, amber eyes locked on to the darting white dragon. A deep, rugged growl formed in the bottom of her throat as she stalked the creature, her muscles poised to strike. The little lizard jumped, teasing her, waiting to be caught in the trap of her strong jaws. Loretta knew she would be able to jump and reach the annoying companion, her ancestors giving her blood-kin strong, powerful legs. Loretta knew she was capable of jumping at least to six feet, but did the dragon? No, surely not! The creature would have to be omniscient, would she not? Tell me when, and I will kill it. Loretta shot to her bondmate, tail erect and stiff behind her. As Loretta spoke to him, Archibald shifted his weight again, hooves landing on the soft, yet steady, ground. Do not kill her, Lace does not deserve that, Archibald warned her, his hooves moving over the loamy soil as he swung his fore to the right, preparing, and hoping, to turn again parallel to the grullo.







[PC: 2/4 | WC: 800 | M&C: 0/2 | BBs: Swift and Dance]