Torleik came, just as Déodat predicted. He snorted as could feel his heart in his chest began to pump vigorously. The Blood Prince met his opponent’s gaze and raised his head. Words passed from the General’s lips, but he was given no response to his question. Did the name really matter? Would it make a difference when one of them left this field with their tails between their legs? His threats meant nothing. Words would get the Bloodskald nowhere on the battlefield, and all Déodat gave him was a snort of disdain. He would take the words spoken at him and shove them back down the general’s throat and watch him choke on his threats.

His opponent came charging toward him, the sounds of his hoof beats ringing in his ears. Déodat prepared himself for the oncoming blows. Anticipation ran through his veins as he felt that familiar feeling of adrenaline consume him. His muscles tensed as he watched his charging foe. Each beat drew him closer and closer, and he could feel that craving for blood rising up inside of him. Regardless of his motives, no matter what may happen before him Déodat would ensure this stallion would bleedThat was what he had been crafted for, the General’s son, born in bloodshed and bred for battle.

As Torleik drew in front of him, the Blood Prince launched himself up onto his hind legs. Before he could reach his full height, Torleik’s hooves upon his chest, drawing him backed toward the ground. Pain shot through his frame as he felt the weight of his opponent upon him. Surely that area would bruise and he hoped nothing within him was broken from the blow. That familiar battle rage came to him, and embraced him like an old friend. Together they would vanquish the enemy before him.

A bellow escaped from Déodat’s as he lowered himself to the ground and flung himself toward his opponent head on. This stallion would crumble beneath his hooves, he would fucking die. For a moment, it wasn’t the rabicano figure of Torleik, but the general that had slaughtered his father, Confutatis, the mare that defiled his homeland, and any other face that Déodat sought to destroy. The bastard’s skull will be beaten into the ground, and his blood will wash away with the stream of rainwater. He lost himself in his bloodlust, craving not the power from the battle, but the river of red.

With his teeth came his horn and Déodat lowered his head and aimed to drive his horn into his opponent’s throat, to drive it deep into Torleik’s neck. I will not fail! I will not fail! He thought to himself. The same words he had chanted to himself as he charged to the equines for their aid. Time and time again he had faced failure in the times he so desperately needed to succeed. It was time for him to be adorned in the crown of victory. It was time for his foes to fall before him drowning in their blood. It was time for him to be the son his father desired. The General was with him, he could feel the presence of his father beside him on the battlefield.

Déodat maneuvered his body to the left of his foe. He drove his hindlegs into the group beneath and shot himself forward aiming for his foe’s left side. With a swift stop he took his right legs and tried to thrust his shoulder into the smaller stallion’s side. Surely his foe was quicker, but Déodat knew what might lay within his carefully sculpted body. Days of consistent patrol and training weren't in vain. That ass his cousin so often made fun of certainly had it’s uses he humored to himself for but a moment.

Off to his right there was the sound of barking and it didn’t quite register what precisely was going on. Before he could properly make out the shape, a small white figure came running towards the brawlers. Odette went for Torleik’s left ankle and reached out her jaws to snap and pull at whatever she could. Loud yaps escaped from her lips.

Odette, get the hell out of here you stupid do! Déodat screamed through their mental bond. This didn’t waver the child in the slightest as she charged away from the other stallion’s ankles and continued to yap at both Torleik and Irelyn.

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Summary: Déodat gets smacked in the chest with Torleik's hooves. He charges at Torleik trying to snap his teeth at wherever he can and then lowers his head to try and stab in him the neck. Afterward he tries and maneuver himself toward Torleik's right where he tries and thrust his shoulder into the other stallion's side. Odette appears having sensed trouble through Déodat's bond and lunges at Torleik's ankles.]
"talk talk talk"