The sun was beginning to rise high in the sky, reaching towards the midday point. A breeze gently aroused the hair that fell on Archibald's neck, lifting tendrils of mane to dance in the sunlight. Golden eyes blinked as he looked before him. In this meadow, the Dauntless was ready for battle. War paint etched every bone that hid beneath his atramentous coat, giving off a living image of the dead. Dark red berries had been smeared along his sides and across his white blaze, echoing the appearance of blood. The feathering around his large and dangerous hooves had also been dyed in the berry-juice. He remembered, sickeningly, the sight of Svetlana as she lay lifeless, motionless, void under his hooves. Her blood had painted his feathers in the same fashion, but these berry stains did not give him the same dark satisfaction that Svetlana's blood had. Snorting, the war lord pawed at the ground once, twice, thrice, before emitting a bellowing call of battle towards the unicorn that shared the meadow with him. Throwing his weight forward with his incredible hindquarters, Archibald swallowed the distance between him and his opponent, hoping the silvery bay would lock him in combat on this glorious morn. He wished to paint the grass with this stallion's guts, whoever he was.

Beside the mammoth skeleton sprinted his bitch, her coat of red and white looking like blood and spirit. In a split second she lunged forward, towards the blazed unicorn creature before them, and attempted to snap her jaws closed over his left fore cannon. She knew the move was risky and she would have to react quickly, but she was able to do so. She was smaller and comparatively swift to the horses she battled with. As her jaws opened, Archibald lurched forward, neck stretching out to propel his open jaws to smack teeth over the thin flesh of Belial's jugular groove. Archibald's dark ears pinned against his hard neck, and his thick body shifted to the left, hoping to continue his advance to parallel himself to the right side of Belial. Turning his head, Archibald opened his jaws and quickly snapped them in an attempt to land a bite on the other stallion's right-side rib cage or even along his spine. Acutely aware of the four daggers that protruded from the silver bay's head, Archibald kicked up his back legs in a bucking fashion, hoping to save his flesh from a slice of one of the weapons. The stallion opposite him was of draft heritage, but also of something lighter. Belial's bone structure was smaller than that of the Dauntless, causing an unequal match in speed between the two. As it was rightfully so, strength would be Archibald's main advantage in this affair.

The only battle partners Archibald could recall that shared similar stature to the brute were Roanne and his mother Mandrake, although the Sentinel was purely a Friesian and his grey mother an Irish Draught. Roanne was much quicker than Archibald, but the dark draft had dropped him to the ground just as easily as he had the other father's of his younger brothers. Mandrake had been another story, for she had age to negate her, but in her youth she had taught the Dauntless quite a bit of fighting necessities. He had crushed her, and no regret plagued his heart or his mind. Archibald was a machine of death, a dealer of fate, a creature of hell. He was unafraid, willing to step in and lock his body in mortal struggle. Despite his bloodlust, the behemoth was no fool. He would not succumb to mistakes; he would not succumb to emotions; he was Archibald the Dauntless, ignited in the thrill and passion of murder.




[WC: 625 | PC: 1/3(0/1 Closing Defense) | Loretta jumps to the left and attempts to bite Belial's left fore cannon. Archibald bites at Belial's neck and goes to the right, hoping to also bite his ribs or spine. Archibald also bucks out in a defensive manner. | Archibald is painted as a skeleton using ashes from a fire. His white feathers are stained red and he has several smears and splatters of red to look like blood around his body.]***Wow I am sorry this post is so shitty.*** @[Belial]