The air at this altitude held a certain chill to it that was both unwelcome and invigorating. It filled the stallion with a new found confidence that he had yet to experience exploring this new land. His mind was at ease, eyes keen and searching as he wound his way up the unfamiliar path that led to the Heavenly Fields. As he broke through the thin layer of clouds that swirled around the mountain top, a sprawling field of lush green grass slowly came into view through the cloak of mist.

Delicate flowers swayed in the summer breeze, wind whispering a euphonious tune through the lush grass. Though the meadow seemed the embodiment of peace, Roland felt on edge and energized, as if his muscles ached to stretch and his heart longed for the adrenaline rush that came with the dance of battle. He waded silently into the field, blades of grass brushing teasingly against his limbs.

The stallion’s golden body shone like the sun itself, lean muscles rippling beneath his dappled hide. Above him the sky was deep blue and endless, blemished by the occasional wispy cloud that lingered above the horizon. Standing atop the flat meadow with nothing to tower over him, he felt blissfully close to the Gods, as if they were close enough to reach out and touch. He felt their unwavering gazes like the heat of the sun against his back.

With this thought lingering in the back of his mind, he did something he’d never thought he’d feel the courage to do. As the wind tousled his sandy mane, he raised his muzzle and called out a challenge to the blue sky. His voice shattered the silence, carrying across the field with no echo, but it rang out with a challenge in his wordless cry. He spared no thought or worry for whom might answer, sapphire eyes searching across the open field.

[2 offensive posts, 1 closing defensive. Location: Heavenly Fields on flat ground. It is a sunny day with very little wind. The surroundings will not affect the battle.

No companions or magic allowed.]

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For a moment the only thing to answer his cry was a breath of wind singing through the green grass, but Roland looked on expectantly as he searched the horizon. His heartbeat had increased in anticipation, every nerve charged as if he had been touched by a finger of electricity. With no opponent to stand before him he exuded confidence, determination shining in his eyes with the intensity of his sun lit, golden pelt. Blue gaze settled on the approaching shape of a black horse, and Roland turned to face the nearing shape with a faint smile. It had been a long time since he’d last fought, but it was a perfect day to try his hand at it once again.

Roland’s smile faltered as the stallion halted before him, giving the former a proper chance to study his opponent. The draft towered above him, heavy set with large hooves and thick white feathering from his knees down. A sense of bewilderment passed over the dun, jaw clenching nervously as he sized up the colossal equine. Though his confidence had suddenly been replaced by regret, he wasn’t about to back down and make a fool of himself. Regardless of whether he would regret it or not, he would stubbornly see this spar to the end, and make a note to pick his opponents before challenging them. The draft obviously out-brawned Roland; the stallion could only hope he would be able to out-brain him, as that may be one of the few advantages he had in this fight.

Roland swung his haunches around as he came face to face with his adversary, inhaling deep breaths of the thin air in an attempt to calm his nerves. Any hint of uneasiness is well disguised on his features, and he manages a nod of acknowledgement as the stallion volunteered himself to fight. He didn’t return a greeting for fear his voice would quiver and divulge the agitation seething beneath his confident façade. As there are no more words needing to be exchanged, Roland makes the first move.

It had been many months since he’d last sparred or engaged in any kind of physical battle, and it took him a moment to cast his mind back into his past and recall the tactics he had once used. He would be able to use his smaller size to his advantage, but throwing his weight against the draft was likely to do little in his favour. Settling his weight onto his haunches, Roland filled his lungs with precious air and launched himself forwards, approaching Archibald head on. The dirt ground provided a good footing, and there were no obstacles that threatened to trip him or slow his gait.

Closing the distance between them, the unicorn feigned to the left and then suddenly changed direction, leaping to the right and aiming for his opponent’s left side. He darted forwards, reaching out to try and land a bite on the sensitive flesh of Archi’s stomach just behind the elbow. As he turned away, pivoting on his front hooves, he aimed a kick at the underside of the draft’s barrel in hopes of winding him at least slightly. Dancing out of harm’s way, he spun on his heels and looked back at his adversary, shaking away the tendrils of forelock that obscured his view.

(Summary: Roland runs toward Archi head on, feigning left and then jumping to the right to try to land a bite on Archi's stomach just behind the elbow. He pivots on his front feet so his rear is facing Archi's side, aims a kick for his barrel and then moves out of range.

1/2)

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Roland felt a hint of satisfaction swelling in his chest as teeth met skin, ripping off a piece of Archi’s flesh. The copper tang of blood against his tongue was unpleasant, but he’d managed to land an attack on the larger stallion, which had to count for something. It hadn’t been his intent to draw blood, but there was no time for apologies. All too sudden Archi was rising up towards him, broad, muscular shoulder crashing into Roland’s left side. His positive thoughts were cut short as the force of the blow knocked him off balance and he stumbled to the right, clumsily tangling his own feet in the long grass. Fighting down embarrassment, he righted himself and pivoted on his forelegs, aiming a quick strike at the draft’s barrel. His back hooves met Archi’s shoulder as the draft reared up again, and the smaller stallion dropped onto all fours and leapt away before his opponent could retaliate.

The sun shone brightly in Roland’s eyes as he turned back to face Archibald, ignoring the pain that swelled in his left shoulder. His opponent was clearly more practiced than him, but he wouldn’t let that dampen his spirits too much. As long as he walked out of the spar in one piece it could be termed an effective use of a bright summer’s day. He had not fought often, still considering himself a novice on the battlefield, so this was a good chance for him to hone his skills. In the past he had been a soldier in the midst of a brutal war, but most of the attacks he had executed had been from the shadows, dancing in and out unnoticed. Standing upon the flat plain of a meadow gave him no opportunities to hide, forcing him to step out of his comfort zone; the feeling of unease greatened when faced with such an intimidating opponent.

Tipping his chin to shield his eyes from the sun’s bright rays, Roland looked back at Archibald as the draft launched himself forwards, following closely. Roland came to a halt on the hard ground just as Archi reached towards him, teeth bared. Heart leaping in his chest, Roland threw his weight into his haunches and prepared to launch himself out of harm’s way, hind end lowering as his forelegs lifted from the ground. The heavy draft’s teeth still managed to pinch the skin of his croup in passing, and sharp pain blossomed from the wound as Roland jumped forwards, coming to land a short distance away. He turned slowly, sides swelling with panting breaths. Sweat gleamed on his golden hide as he inhaled deeply, making the most of the thin air.

Despite his bulk Archibald still seemed quick on his feet, and Roland was only able to use his teeth and hooves as weapons since his weight was nothing compared to the draft’s stalwart build. He wouldn’t use his horn in a spar, for the sharp blade could do far more damage than he might intend, but that meant giving up one of his few advantages. Digging his hooves into the rich soil, Roland ran towards Archi, approaching him head on. He slowed his gait as he neared and rose into a rear, lunging for his adversary’s throat latch. His neck reached out, trying to meet Archi’s height as he attempted to close his teeth around the sensitive skin, though he practiced some restraint. It wasn’t his intent to cause irreparable damage, and the bite was not strong enough to tear the flesh.

He let himself drop, striking out at Archi’s left knee with his right hoof as he went, using the driving force of his falling weight to put more strength into the blow. Hopefully a wound on such a sensitive joint would help hinder the massive draft’s movement, slowing his speed if he tried to follow. Landing heavily upon the ground, Roland darted to his right, only stopping when he was well out of harm’s way. With a glint of newfound confidence in his eyes, he turned back to face his opponent.

(Summary: Roland approaches Archibald from the front, rearing and aiming a bite at his throat latch. He strikes out at Archi’s left knee as he drops back onto the ground, and runs away to stand out of reach to Archi’s left. 2/2. Sorry it’s so long!)

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