the Rift


[JUDGED] [INVS] Archibald vs. Ghost

Official Posts: 847
Administrator
Stallion :: Equine :: ::
Official
#1
[Archibald] vs. [Ghost]
Please refer to this thread for HP: http://helovia.net/showthread.php?tid=18...#pid139262
The INVADER must post before 4/10/15 @ 10:00 AM CST or the fight will default

Archibald the Dauntless Posts: 386
Absent Abyss atk: 6.0 | def: 9.5 | dam: 8
Stallion :: Equine :: 18.3 hh :: 10 years HP: 80 | Buff: SHIELD
Loretta :: Alaskan Malamute :: Time Slip Time
#2

The crash of waterfalls was all around them, mixing darkly with the sound of clashing bodies, shifting metal, and clicking bones. As the lands were painted in the blood of the sunset, war was truly in the air. Every particle around the Dauntless seemed to vibrate with the high intensity of battle he was so familiar with, and in this moment, thrived on. Archibald was a warrior down to his very core, his skill set implanted into his life from the day he dropped from his mother’s womb tangled in the gangly legs of his twin, refined and honed from each passing day since. As vile and insane as Mandrake had been, she had never been a fool. She trained her sons well, crafted them to be the top of each class they naturally leaned toward. Among the string of stallions that roamed this earth claiming Mandrake as their mother, Archibald was her greatest accomplishment. He was a known warlord across this land, his name revered on the battlefield. Today, he did not need to prove his worth with his fundamental battle prowess. No—today was not about him. It was about his herd, about the lives he swore to protect when he entered into the World’s Edge just before their broken glass wall. The confines of their home were no longer able to protect them from the malicious hand of the Moon Goddess, and so Archibald and his fellow monarchs marched to war and dove into the throes of battle.

A pulsing, short wave of pleasure trickled down Archibald’s spine when his golden eyes watched Ghost falter, caught off guard by their sudden and demanding assault. His teeth grabbed on the bottom of her stomach as she flailed, her wings desperately reaching for air. Loretta’s teeth—so much more so able to cause damage than her equine bondmate’s—scraped along the other side of the mare’s belly. A savage, sickening snarl left Loretta’s maw as her paws hit the earth again, legs spread wide and balance low. A wall of frustration stopped both the behemoth and his bitch in their tracks. The king ground his teeth together as he planted his hooves, snorting haughtily beneath his wolfhelm. However, it was for good measure that they were stopped in their charge, for beneath padded paws and shod hooves, a sheet of clear ice lay out on the once loamy ground. Loretta lurched forward, however, slipping on the ice and falling to her side. The bitch yipped in surprise, and Archibald reacted. Angrily, the beast shot his nose down and grasped his earth amulet between his teeth. The Dauntless did not know the true potential of the magical item, but it was his only hope of thwarting the ice. Crashing down in his armor had the potential to sever his body, leave him a crippled, retired warrior and king. He would rather die a thousand deaths than be caged inside of a useless body. Throwing it down on the ground, Archibald watched as it shattered and absorbed the ice around him.

The Czarina took for the sky and spat down words Archibald had once said to her back in his face. The warlord did not react verbally, but his jaw set. This was not the time or place to justify his actions, but the situation of this world had changed. To keep peace and protection, for Archibald, there sometimes needed to be a blood sacrifice. The Hidden Falls, small, defenseless and all the while continuing to be volatile, was the sacrifice in this day. Golden eyes flicked up to find Ghost, only to see her flying toward Romani. A sudden anger, fresh and raw, consumed his heart like a forest fire. In the battalion Archibald had heralded to his battle, Romani was his most loyal warrior. “COWARD!” Archibald screamed, his voice ripping into the air like thunder.

Bring her down Loretta called, scrambling to her feet and sprinting toward the Czarina. The dog called upon her magic, and spirals of time-slipping potential raced invisibly toward Ghost, hoping to pull her into childhood. Archibald followed, his body slower from the armor that covered his frame, but his anger pushed him onward. The Dauntless sent his own magical assault, willing the power of the earth in hopes to transform the pegasus’ bones to stone and send her crashing to the earth. Veering off some to the left, the king lowered his head, and turned his neck. He attempted to point the spikes that lined down his metal-clad neck toward where he hoped Ghost would fall from the sky. Archibald hoped to slice the left side of her body from tail to nose. Loretta, with claws digging into the moist soil, maneuvered to the right, amber eyes sparkling with bloodlust.






[WC: 796/800, according to Microsoft Word

PC: 1/3

Archibald used his Earth Amulet to absorb Ghost's ice magic.

Archibald Magic :: [Magic: Earth (U) | The ability to turn another's bones to stone, causing immobilization or slower movement. Restrictions | Bones are turned to actual stone; the effects will wear off gradually. In battle, attack lasts for 50 seconds. Can only be used once in a post.]

Loretta Magic :: Time slip: another, making them think they are a young child for 30 seconds ]

Armor Reference]

ARCHIBALD the DAUNTLESS
Only the dead have seen the end of the war.
image credits


Through the ages of time
I've been known for my hate,
but I'm a dealer of simple choices;
for me it's never too late.


please tag me

Ghost the Cadaverous Posts: 219
Outcast atk: 5.5 | def: 10.5 | dam: 5.5
Mare :: Hybrid :: 16hh :: 6 years HP: 67 | Buff: ENDURE
Fantôme :: Grey Wolf :: None imi
#3
Deception and perfection are wonderful traits
One will breed love, the other hate


They kept coming like waves crashing on brittle rock as the sunset suddenly faded into night, much to Ghost’s preference. However, it had all gone a little too far for the young Czarina who was left to bear the brunt of a force far too mighty for her small family. She took some comfort in being surrounded by those of her herd who bravely stood and defended. The wounds on her sides burned with pain, her flight slowly beginning to waver under the stress and suddenly she began to realize there was a chance she could die here. It was a profound thought, a frightening thought and yet a liberating one. On the one hand, she would no longer feel any pain and yet, on the other, the banshee was terrified of what lay beyond the call of life (despite the terribly misleading name). Was it fair that her life could lie at the feet of these pompous bastards? Yet, as she swallowed in discomfort, Ghost finally began to realize that fairness was a beautiful word too fine for this world. She should’ve known this from her own rough trodden past, but for some reason the banshee had forgotten her own life lesson and in her desire to find a shoulder to lean on, she had unknowingly searched for this quality in others.

Foolish little sprite, the world is far more convoluted than that.

Still, it was too late to regret a wisdom she had only just learnt. Her efforts to escape the rampaging King of the Edge were left to nought as still he chased her. The only reply he gave to her anger strewn words was his own scream of a single accusation… coward. It left a sardonic half smile on her dark lips as she thought of the hypocrisy of it. He was a mammoth, an armoured mammoth at that who possessed strength far greater than her own and yet, here he was, hounding down a young mare of skin and bone. Her lips remained sealed, however, she had already said too much of her mind and the sprite had other, far more pressing issues to deal with. Like that of her rapidly shrinking body and the childlike thoughts. What was this?! She fumbled around in mid-air as shock came over her once again. Why was she a child? Magic? Her body suddenly became heavy as well! Too heavy to hold in the air with just her wings and, combined with the pain from her injuries, turned into a futile battle.

Ending the struggle, she fell.

Her cloven hooves reached frantically for the floor below and, once there, fought to keep her upright. The banshee was also still reeling from how she was going to fight as a child with stone bones; it would surely only take one crushing stomp to end her miserable tussle.

There was a thundering of hooves, the ominous heralding of a charging monster and the shuddering feeling of danger. She knew she had to move, even if just a little, she had to move away from him. Yet, the disorientation that plagued her mind that was stuck in some childhood era and her bones of stone meant she was very slow to react, she managed to slightly turn her rear end to the right, leaving the rest of her body glaringly open to a new searing pain that trailed from near the middle of her stomach, across her neck and cutting her nose. It was too painful for even a noise to leave the mouth of Ghost, but she was brave enough to bare her horn towards him as he had charged past in hopes that the close proximity would help her pierce his flesh where his armour might allow, in the small corners where it didn’t protect. Her bones were far too heavy to do much more than this, however, and her injuries left her clinging at life's last strands as she breathed heavily. Yet, with little movement and little chance to fight back, she had only one weapon left in her arsenal. She concentrated on the pain, its sharp relentless torment and the way it seemed to pulse through her body. There was enough of it to fill her mind and clear it of everything else, but pain. With her dark gaze trained to where she thought Archibald was, Ghost reached for the last of her abilities and the remaining scraps of magic she had left in her body.

It might not be real, but (if it worked) at least he'd get a horrifying sight of a blood-soaked battlefield as it burned. Ghost just hoped she had grasped enough of her power to send the illusion forth, praying it would find its way into the mind of the King.

-----------------------------------------------------------

WC: 799 (wordcounter.net) || 1/3

:: [Magic: DarkxLight | Ability to create an illusion of raining blood that has a burning sensation, but causes no physical damage.]
:: [Restrictions | Takes immense concentration. Lasts 15-30 seconds in battle.]

Let the heat of the sun
Reignite your memory
Because if we just turn and run
Let them fire the gun

❚ Force permitted, just don't kill her :3
❚ Please tag me!
❚ Pixel by Nyte

Archibald the Dauntless Posts: 386
Absent Abyss atk: 6.0 | def: 9.5 | dam: 8
Stallion :: Equine :: 18.3 hh :: 10 years HP: 80 | Buff: SHIELD
Loretta :: Alaskan Malamute :: Time Slip Time
#4

Magic sent the sprite of a mare reeling, falling, and flailing from the sky. Archibald’s loyal bitch vibrated with her excitement, jowls nearly dripping with saliva, yearning to taste Ghost’s blood on her tongue. Loretta snarled as she rushed forward suddenly. Ghost’s hind end skirted towards her and Loretta moved towards the mare’s wing. Muscles coiled beneath her thick fur as she bunched up, preparing herself. Launching herself into the air, the bitch opened her jaws wide. Hungrily her trap-like muzzle sought for the back of Ghost’s right wing. Loretta wanted to rip into the feathers, remove them, and leave the mare grounded for the rest of this battle—no matter how long the duration would be. Loretta was a predator, truly, raised to be a woman of battle and war. Once she was locked in on her target, there was nothing to hold her back. The last time she had been involved in a battle like this she caught a dragon between her teeth and brought it to its demise. Perhaps it was good that the little wolf pup that Ghost bonded to had run away. Loretta had already displayed her dominance to the young cur, but in battle Loretta gave no compassion. No ounce of her twitched or paused with hesitation, and not even the demanding call of her bondmate could stop her when she was in her mindset of destruction.

Archibald, on the other side of the dark hybrid, kept his charge. The spikes along his neck sliced into the mare. The satisfaction of knowing his attack swelled in his chest, but it was dull. There was no shudder than ran down his spine and electrified his muscles like when he felt the impact of an attack. His armor was a weapon of destruction and protection, but now as he used it as a weapon the pleasure of knowing he inflicted damage on another, brought them to their knees, was not the same as when he brought them crashing down with his teeth and hooves. A sickening, loud scratching sound rang out suddenly around them. Snorting with mild confusion, Archibald’s mind whirled and he slowed his charge some, also not to hit Romani. It took only a second for the Dauntless to realize that the sound was of Ghost’s horn slicing across the cold steel of his armor. A glorified, yet tight, smirk lit his lips, hidden beneath the maw of his wolfhelm.

With his charge slowed by his momentary lapse, the King knew he needed to attack. His hind end was open to her assaults, and he would not let her capitalize. He thrust his weight forward, head tucked and neck arched as quickly his steel-clad hooves kicked towards where he hoped the Czarina still to be. The sudden movement of his colossal hooves threw grass and dirt into the air, but that was of no concern to him. He aimed his hooves in an attempt to slam against Ghost’s chest or the point of her left shoulder. Archibald wondered how the crack of her sternum would feel beneath his hooves. Surely, the missing satisfaction of his armor’s attack would be fulfilled in feeling the impact against her body vibrate up his legs—should he hit her. It was a simple, one-barreled kick that the King gave, and as his hind hooves sought the purchase of the earth once more, Archibald craned his neck and twisted his body to turn to the right, hoping to end up spinning around to face Ghost head on.

He did not expect the mare to send her own magical attack, but a single drop of her blood splattered against a split in the neck pieces of his armor. It stung intensely, and Archibald quickly tucked his nose into his armor to find the other amulet he had hidden. It was different than the last amulet he had shattered on the ground, but if it had any of the same effect, Archibald would take it as success. Quickly, Archibald threw this amulet up. It left his lips and as trickles of blood touched it, the amulet shattered. Unlike absorbing the magic like the previous amulet, it sent the downpour of blood for the dark Czarina. Amazed, Archibald reveled in the assault. The king moved his massive head, eyes canning across the battlefield that had nearly died to him as he focused on his battle with Ghost. There was a lack of warriors, and a majority of his army stood with no purpose. Archibald grunted beneath his helmet. All along, Midas had been harboring a herd full of cowards. It was no surprise to Archibald, but it was disappointing. While he and his bonded felt the clash of battle, the intensity, his army felt so little.






[WC: 794/800, according to Microsoft Word

PC: 2/3

Archibald used his Spark Amulet to absorb Ghost's blood-rain magic.

Armor Reference]

ARCHIBALD the DAUNTLESS
Only the dead have seen the end of the war.
image credits


Through the ages of time
I've been known for my hate,
but I'm a dealer of simple choices;
for me it's never too late.


please tag me

Ghost the Cadaverous Posts: 219
Outcast atk: 5.5 | def: 10.5 | dam: 5.5
Mare :: Hybrid :: 16hh :: 6 years HP: 67 | Buff: ENDURE
Fantôme :: Grey Wolf :: None imi
#5
Deception and perfection are wonderful traits
One will breed love, the other hate


With every throb of pain there came a sickening feeling that this was increasingly looking like her last moments. She had to hand it to the monstrosity; he sure knew how to beat a girl. Yet, as the searing slash enflamed from her side, she found herself thinking of ways to survive rather than ways to win. There was surely no winning this battle, even now Ghost could feel her body beginning to wain as she dimmed to nothing but a flickering ember of her former self, but dying here seemed to serve no purpose. No. It would be better to survive now and torment them later. Perhaps, one day, the ground would stain red with the blood of her enemies and nuisances rather than her own blood. The banshee would have to wait for that moment, however, because she had made the mistake of imprudence and so this, blood-strewn body, was her punishment and her lesson.

By now, the thoughts of being a young child were beginning to wear off and her stiff, stone-like bones were slowly coming back to life. That wasn’t before his mutt of a dog decided to launch for her wing and Ghost, still weary from the affects of the magic, only managed to lift her wing up enough for damage limitation. The bitch, however, did catch the side of her plumed appendage and took a mouth full of white and red feathers with her. The sprite visibly winced at the sharpness of the sudden pain, but it soon dulled compared to the more vigorous wound that hounded her side. The long gash caused by the amber-eyed pillager’s armour was deepest near the shoulder and would surely leave a mark. As if to add more insult to injury, her brave efforts to at least try scar the hairy fuckup in her last ditch attempt, with her horn carelessly bared, did nothing but bounce of his gaudy armour! Battered, hurt and quite uncaring by now, Ghost began to laugh with imbued cynicism and contemplated possibilities that she might have either been cursed or just given an ill fate. It only made her want to survive this even more, if nothing, to simply spite the world. If it was going to spit in her face then she at least wanted the opportunity to spit back.

Time ticked and the battle raged on, Archibald was not one for having a breather apparently, he was already upon her. This was it. Perhaps the only opening she would get for the rest of the battle. The hooves that bore down on her may connect with a shuddering thud, but maybe this time just maybe her horn would find its way through. Feeling a little more movement returning to her, Ghost let the harsh hooves crack against her chest in and lowered her head. Sleek and black, yearning for blood, her horn was aimed upon the beast like a hungry lance. Her breath had been utterly taken away through the impact of his over-sized feet and the magic she had cast seemed not to have an effect.

However, burning against her chest was an amulet, the green one that represented the Earth God. If Ghost still had breath to talk with she might have made some sarcastic quip about the elderly gent finally doing something. In all of Ghost’s reign she had only met him once and that was to see Midas’ ascension. Now, using the last remnants of her energy, she cast the amulet down from her necklace, not really fully understanding its protection, but not really caring. It left just two symbols around her neck, two amulets left and both were dark.

Moon Amulets.

How ironic.

[WC: 617 | 2/3
AMG TIME don't go easy yeah ;D <333

*uses Earth Amulet*]

Let the heat of the sun
Reignite your memory
Because if we just turn and run
Let them fire the gun

❚ Force permitted, just don't kill her :3
❚ Please tag me!
❚ Pixel by Nyte

Archibald the Dauntless Posts: 386
Absent Abyss atk: 6.0 | def: 9.5 | dam: 8
Stallion :: Equine :: 18.3 hh :: 10 years HP: 80 | Buff: SHIELD
Loretta :: Alaskan Malamute :: Time Slip Time
#6

Pure joy, primal and raw, ran through Loretta. The tickling started at her maw and ran down her spine to finally burst from the tip of her plumed tail, which stuck straight in the air behind her. Her dirt stained paws found purchase on the loamy soil and she turned her head over her shoulder, spitting the Czarina’s feathers from her mouth. Her eyes were dead, her pupils wide and pulsating with her bloodlust. Many in Helovia believed her bondmate to hold bloodlust, the desire to feel victory through breaking another body, but even the Dauntless had no ounce of bloodlust that topped the malamute bitch. It showed in battle always, but especially now when Archibald made no attempt to hold her back over their invisible bond. A sickening, intense snarl rang out from Loretta throat as she ran forward. With teeth lashing, the dog aimed to bit into Ghost’s front right fetlock.

Ghost’s rumbling laughter fills Archibald’s ears as his hooves smack against her chest. Images of his mother, Mandrake, fill his mind. The laugh sounded so similar to the insane grey mare. Archibald grinded his teeth together and set his jaw. He had ended the grey mare—his mother—and now Ghost would come crashing down. This battle had all started with his herd in mind. Archibald needed to give them a new home, away from the malice and unpredictability of the Moon Goddess who had hurt too many too deeply. Now, however, with the sick laugh ringing from Ghost’s maw, Archibald wanted to see her face in the dirt, blood pooled around her head. No mare that resembled Mandrake—in any way—should walk the earth. Mares like Mandrake hurt others, too, like the Moon Goddess, and Archibald would not stand for that to happen.

Archibald’s hind legs began to fall back to the earth when a piercing, sharp pain filtered through his body. It was quick and hard, and it overwhelmed his leg fast. Ghost’s horn managed to slice down the length of his left gaskin. The Dauntless stallion took in a breath, lurching his mass forward. His left hind defied him. Warmth filled the muscle as blood sputtered from the cut. The behemoth limped forward on it, pushing through the pain despite the pulsating, the drumming, and the call of the wound. Archibald turned his body to the right, hoping to come head on to Ghost. His leg protested, screamed beneath his weight. The cut was deep as it spread across his muscle, and would surely scar. Golden eyes flashed toward Ghost’s black, and Archibald gave a low, deafening roar of his anger. He would forever remember this battle, just as he had with all of his battles, but others would know it as well. Just like the burn scars along his neck and rump, this cut along his gaskin would be a testament to the upper-hand Ghost was able to gain on him. Although it was nothing compared to the sting of dragonfire that had left his other prominent scars, the stallion would not forget the pain.

With pain vibrating in his mind, Archibald pressed forward. Steel-clad hooves dug into the moist earth below him, leaving deep gashes where his feathered hooves had once been. Quickly, Archibald snaked out his head. The muscles in his neck uncoiled, unleashing all the power he had as he attempted to leave a lasting assault on Ghost. Archibald’s teeth aimed for the black mare’s neck. How glorious would it be for him to grab her jugular between his teeth and make her beg for mercy? Loretta fueled his mind, her thoughts unbridled and consuming. Bring her down, Archibald! This kingdom is ours! The red and white malamute exclaimed over their bond, scrambling backwards to avoid a kick from the tri-color mare. Loretta knew the damage horse hooves could leave, and she knew it more than just being told. She had been kicked hard during the Captain Tournament so many months ago, and she did not wish that pain upon herself this day.

Hard and fast, Archibald slammed his front right forehoof down to send tremors through the earth once more. Archibald though Ghost was on her last legs, and Archibald wanted to do all he could in his power to send her down, down, down.







[WC: /800, according to Microsoft Word | PC: 3/3 | Armor Reference

:: [Magic: Earth (U) | can create earth tremors with a stomp of the hooves that unbalances and disorients the opponent]
:: [Restrictions | Can only be used twice in battle, with the tremors lasting up to a full post; the tremors are strong and should cause severe disorientation] ]

ARCHIBALD the DAUNTLESS
Only the dead have seen the end of the war.
image credits


Through the ages of time
I've been known for my hate,
but I'm a dealer of simple choices;
for me it's never too late.


please tag me

Ghost the Cadaverous Posts: 219
Outcast atk: 5.5 | def: 10.5 | dam: 5.5
Mare :: Hybrid :: 16hh :: 6 years HP: 67 | Buff: ENDURE
Fantôme :: Grey Wolf :: None imi
#7
Deception and perfection are wonderful traits
One will breed love, the other hate


A slashed nose was quite painful in a sensitive way, it was sharper than most pangs and it left tears weeping in the very corners of her eyes. Yet, her gaze told a different story. One of pig-headed stubbornness, a refusal to keel over to this monster and his pet dog. The profoundness of death had nulled in the heat of the climax but, even though she stood with a stout steadfastness, there was something to be said about the shuddering ground under pounding hooves and the bloodthirsty eyes that bore down on her in cold remorse. It was the way it wove into her body like a foretelling of a tragic future, the hammering footfalls were the countdown and the savage stares a brutal promise. The blood that coated her body and the agony that went with it were surely signs of a monarch who was going, quite literally, for her life. However, as her chest bruised under his hooves and her horn skewered his leg, a small sense of triumph celebrated in a corner of her mind. A small blow in comparison to the damage he had dealt her already, but it was better than none and perhaps the most she could hope for considering the situation. Whatever magical properties the amulet she had thrown from her neck possessed had not done her any harm either.

Still struggling from her injuries but with the heaviness of her bones now worn off, the Czarina stumbled backwards suddenly. New blood, the King’s blood now coated the end of her horn, though she had paid a price for her brief moment of victory. Her chest throbbed, he had fucking big feet and studded ones at that. Her collection of wounds had taken a hard toll on her body leaving her in a weary state, but not all was lost. Even as the grisly mutt and the rampaging behemoth closed in on her she felt a little lift to her body. As if she was getting a second wind, but it felt a little more permanent than that, perhaps there was a healer nearby. Africa or Kiara, who knew, the banshee didn’t have time to turn and thank whoever it was. It lifted the pain from her chest enough for her to take a quick, deep breath and lurch forwards into a scrappy canter. Determined, she then hastily flapped her wings in effort to scramble away from the oncoming clodhopper. It was difficult; the missing feathers hampered her balance and made the take off shaky. The mutt got close; her snapping jaws just missing her fetlock by inches and Ghost laced her ears against her neck, shooting a back right hoof outwards in hopes she was quick enough to smack it against the retreating, violent cur.

There was a whoosh and a rumble, if she had lingered on her flight any second longer then perhaps she would have been ensnared in the devilish trap below. The shaking ground and those canine teeth may have been her final undoing, but not this time. Thoughts of death filtered away for a moment as Ghost felt she had been handed a rare chance to take another shot at him one last time. She could not remain in the air for very long as her energy ebbed away, however, and her body felt almost useless under the stress. Taking the remnants of the extra strength she had been gifted from an unknown source, Ghost angled herself and dived in on Archibald. Her gaze set for a certain point of his body and, hoping she had targeted him accurately, she attempted to kick out one left back hoof for his already damaged gaskin. The armour made it difficult to target, but perhaps she’d slow him long enough to put her own life out of danger.

When she thought the ground was motionless and the prospect of danger was less, well, lesser than before, she landed in a heap and not with an ounce of grace. Her weary gaze searched the desperate scene and a defeated half smile conceded the overriding loss. They hadn’t stood much of a chance from the start, but she marvelled at those who bravely stood by her side in defence. It was one thing to fight a battle; it was another to keep on fighting in a losing one. She could not fault their courage. Her eyes left the sad scene and sought that of Archibald’s. "Spare them" she motioned to the fighters who had defended so gallantly "they are braver than most, you have what you want". She had no idea if the King would even bother hearing her request, he didn’t have to, but words were all she had in the dying embers of this battle.

[WC: 795 | 3/3
Good fight time ^^ <3]

Let the heat of the sun
Reignite your memory
Because if we just turn and run
Let them fire the gun

❚ Force permitted, just don't kill her :3
❚ Please tag me!
❚ Pixel by Nyte

Archibald the Dauntless Posts: 386
Absent Abyss atk: 6.0 | def: 9.5 | dam: 8
Stallion :: Equine :: 18.3 hh :: 10 years HP: 80 | Buff: SHIELD
Loretta :: Alaskan Malamute :: Time Slip Time
#8

As the canine bitch reeled back, her fur bristled with the feeling of the whoosh of Ghost’s hoof passing her left shoulder. Another, final snarl left her lips as she quickly jumped to the right, careful to avoid any more hooves should they thrust in her direction. Damnit! She sent to Archibald, teeth empty of skin, fur, or blood. The red and white female’s legs splayed a she steadied herself with Archibald’s earthquake. She was used to the King’s tremors, but it took great focus to be able to stand still over them. The earth tremors reach out with their powerful hands and grip the terrain, knocking it around. In the background—near and far—Archibald could hear as the tremors disrupted the flow of waterfalls and their feeding rivers.

Snorting, the King lurched forward. The pain in his gaskin still screamed up his leg, his gate a limping canter, but still he presses on. The Czarina takes to the air, off balance and unsure, but still she takes to the air. There is a similarity between them—pressing on, urging their bodies to continue, despite pain that vibrated through sinew and bone. Ghost was much worse for wear, which was up to no dispute, but even the Dauntless, the monstrous behemoth of a stallion, felt pain. Golden eyes veered up to black, peering into the stubbornness that Ghost veiled herself in. The King’s bite missed her completely from her decision to go aerial, and it displeased him. What displeased him even more, however, was what happened next.

Ghost altered her course, hooves pressed on towards Archibald’s already injured leg. The black knight turned his shoulders away, his battle-hardened mind quick to catch her motive. His injured gaskin screamed at him, and the Dauntless winced with apparent pain and discomfort, but her hooves missed his already injured gaskin. Instead, they scraped against the chainmail that protected his leg. The slam of her hooves against the metal would surely leave a bruise on the skin beneath, but there was no puncture. It still displeased Archibald, however, because she got in the last hit. The Dauntless grumbled some, stopping as he reached Loretta’s side. The bitch went to run forward, the tremors dissolved beneath her, and Archibald stopped her. No, he commanded, it is done.

Ghost spoke and Archibald turned around, slowly, letting his weight fall to his three fully healthy legs. With a deep breath in and the will of his heart, Archibald’s armor shrunk down to the breastplate that covered his chest. The Dauntless lifted his head, defiant over the female. His shoulders squared with perpetual victory and he nodded. ”This was not a battle against you and me. This war had a purpose far above small, nonsensical quarrels. I did this to protect my herd, my family, and I have no mind to banish yours. Their freedom is theirs should they seek it, but they also have refuge beneath our triumvirate. In time, if you want to know the mind behind this war, you may seek me. For now, seek a healer. Resplendence or Alysanne would be willing to help you.” Archibald nodded to the two healers in the distance.

Archibald turned around again, composing his face against wincing with the pain from his leg, and addressed his soldiers. Golden eyes scanned the battlefield. There was a lack of blood, of gore, and most stood staring back at him with blank, bored stares. Agitation flicked his ears down, but finally he sighed. Looking to Kahlua, then to Kaj, Archibald called out, "It is done!”




[WC: 594/800, according to Microsoft Word

PC: Closing Defense]

ARCHIBALD the DAUNTLESS
Only the dead have seen the end of the war.
image credits


Through the ages of time
I've been known for my hate,
but I'm a dealer of simple choices;
for me it's never too late.


please tag me

Official Posts: 847
Administrator
Stallion :: Equine :: ::
Official
#9
Since there is no way a rubric can account for the HP difference, even maxed out, Archibald wins!
Archibald is awarded 1 VP
Invaders are awarded 1 Invasion Point

(If either of you desires a rubric, please PM official and we will give you one of only your sections)


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