A wave of pleasure washed over the Dauntless, crashing his body to shiver, despite the growing heat. Archibald was used to the sensation, having toppled many others in battle before. The victory over Birch, Leyra and Romani, however, had not been satisfying in the same manner. In this moment, from the wake of his dethroning, Archibald is thirsty for pain and suffering, and today his thirst was quenched.

Archibald feels the stallion go immobile underneath the powerful grasp of his magic and he smiles sadistically. His pull to the left brings the bone, firmly between his teeth, as well as Gaucho’s head. Opening his jaws and releasing the bone, now only hanging there by a mangled piece of flesh, Archibald curves his neck and head to survey the damage he has done. Blood pools from the wound, the scent like iron filling his pale nostrils. Grunting, Archibald decides against attacking again. He is fulfilled—this primal, bay creature writhes in pain and the Dauntless stands with merely achy muscles and bruises. Tossing his head Archibald turns his body away, his butt now facing Gaucho’s left shoulder, and as Archibald prepares to leave with all of his pride and glory, the pegasus’ wings move and down and wash over Archibald’s scarred and dark rump. Snorting, the Dauntless bucks upwards, nothing but a warning, with no back hooves flashing out to strike. The attack would have been more powerful had the bones, even hollow and light, not been hardened. The weight of Gaucho’s wing leaves his body as he moves his body into a trot, tail flicking behind him as flies swooped in to lunch on his sweaty hide.

“You will not forget this day,” Archibald stops, turning his head over his shoulder to watch Gaucho in his own sweat box, “I am Archibald the Dauntless, master of war.” Archibald repeats his name, voice booming in the open space. Lifting his head towards the sky, Archibald wonders what the God of the Earth is thinking now—was he proud of the things Archibald did, or was he ashamed of gifting the ex-Chief with so much power? Archibald doubted the deity was proud of the pain Archibald dealt, for the master of the Earth was a peaceful and loving creature, compassionate down to his roots. With that fact, known to anyone, why had he gifted Archibald so? Finding the questions trivial, Archibald decided he would venture to the veins. The walk could go well for his aching muscles. Gaucho had quite the power behind him, and the bruises and dusty hoof prints that marred Archibald’s hide were true monuments to show it.

The sun beat down on the giant as he stood with his head tilted towards the sky. Sweat soaked his body, especially his joints that rubbed against other parts of his body. Lowering his head to its normal state, the Dauntless turned his body and trekked away from the battlefield the pegasus had chosen, Loretta running and panting to catch up to him. Neither of them were bred for this heat, it took tolls on their bodies. Loretta was made for the height of winter, he coat thick and water-safe. Archibald fared well in the colder weather as well, his ancestors living in very mild climates. But, the choosing of this battle field was wise, and a small part of Archibald respected the stallion for his efforts.

[WC: 566 | Closing Defense | Archibald releases Gaucho's nose piercing and turns to leave. Gaucho's wings hit his rump and Archibald bucks up in defense and warning, but he does not kick. | Thanks for the spar, Aud! I will be contacting you to go over the spar with my last notes/teachings so we can go back and forth!]