Archibald’s body pumped, muscles rippling across his taught hide and anger seeped from his pours. His eyes were dark and narrowed as he trotted, head lowered almost parallel to his shoulders. Archibald was angry at everything: at Jackal, at his mother, at his brothers, at everything. His companion loped at his side with her ears pinned back and tail curled over her back. It was easy to see the anger that ripped across the pair, as if it were a dark cloud that surrounded them and all in their vicinity. Anger seemed to do that, to be a consuming fire of destruction and death. Archibald was ready for destruction and, surely, death. His hooves that were so used to the blood of others coating them pushed him forward, anger and a familiar bloodlust pulling at his heartstrings.

The neigh that hit him was like a blessing; soothing his bones and making his body shudder with excitement. So, someone wanted to fight? Archibald hoped that they were ready for what they called upon. With thundering hooves Archibald arrived on the scene, eyes instantly scanning the male. The black behemoth, naturally, stood heads above him; towering over others was not an odd thing for the black knight, as the only two he knew to reach higher than him were his brother Vincent and the Earth God. Archibald’s dark eyes narrowed as he examined the feathered appendages that protruded from the bay’s shoulders, and his mind raced with images of previous spars with his brother Wilder. His grey brother was a skilled flier, and he imagined this Pegasus was as well, but he was prepared nonetheless.

“I am Archibald the Dauntless, and I will fight with you.” Archibald’s voice was low and dark, laced with a whisper of bloodlust and dominance. He did not know anything about this fighter before him—other than what he could assume by his appearance—but Archibald wanted to spill his blood and watch fear enter him. He wondered if the bay was scared of death. If he was not, maybe he would be by the end of this fight. Loretta lowered her center of gravity next to him with her lips curling back to expose her deadly fangs. Archibald sternly sent a silent “No.” and she coiled back, looking up to him sadly. Whimpering gently, she turned and trotted away with her head and tail low. She wanted to share in his spar, but he wanted to do it alone.

Archibald was standing clear in front of the male, only a few feet away, when his body coiled and he propelled forward. Skillfully the warrior’s ears pinned and he stretched his neck out, jaws agape and ready to snap down on tight flesh. The muscles in Archibald’s shoulders flexed and his body shifted to the right, hoping to run parallel to Gaucho. Archibald’s neck rolled and he bit at the back end of the bay’s ribs, aiming between the external intercostal muscle and the transverse abdominal muscles. Archibald wanted to rip skin and see blood, to taste the irony, smooth liquid on his lips. After his teeth flashed out Archibald pushed his weight forward and tucked his head, bucking out furiously with his gigantic hind hooves, aiming for the oddly painted stallion’s elbow or forearm. Defensively Archibald moved his head away from possible flying hooves.

Dust surged into the air around him from the dry and caked earth, his white feathers slowly gaining a reddish hue. The sun beat down upon the two, the earth showing signs of Tallsun in the late reaches of Birdsong. Archibald was not keen to the suffocating humidity that Tallsun generally brought in some regions of the land; he much preferred Orangemoon and Birdsong, with their perfect balance between hot and cold.




[WC: 630 | PC: 1/2 | MC: 0/2; Archibald will be using his magic as well as his battle buffs of bulk and swift. | Archibald comes in and stops just a few feet in front of Gaucho. He introduces himself and runs forward on the right side of Gaucho, biting at the end of his rib cage and bucking at his right forearm/shoulder area. Archibald tucks and turns his head away from Guacho's hooves to protect himself from possible kicks. ]