The night was far too comfortable upon the bluffs of the Foothills, upon the rolling plains and rapid streams of Helovia as a whole. The darkness did not ebb and flow, like the ocean beating upon the shore; no, it was stagnant and it choked what it touched. There was no rest from Frostfall, the snow hung heavy and cold in the deepest corners of the dark world. The return of the Moon was a miraculous revelation, and Helovia seemed to take in a breath of hope with the beacon perched high in her throne. Archibald, a child of darkness and destruction, welcomed the return of the Moon much like the others. Archibald knew that if the Moon, a sly and cunning Goddess, had the ability to return then, too, would the powerful Earth God. Above the others, Archibald yearned for his return the most. He was the patron to the Foothills, he gave their Storyteller direction and vision, and he had gifted Archibald greatly on his own accord. Without him, the Dauntless was magic-less—but not powerless.

Archibald’s gait was easy and true as he moved through the herdland, Loretta trailing behind him loyally. The two had finished a small patrol, and on the wind was a call for their help. Black ears flicked towards the sound, and Loretta took off excitedly. Archibald followed, letting his bulk lift into a comfortably paced trot. Thrill began to tug at the corners of his mind and heart, excitement pouring into his blood. It had been far too long since the general had placed his skills in a spar, friendly or otherwise, and he was glad to hear the call of the Grey’s head medic. Apollo’s figure formed in the distance, dark but not imposing and Archibald continued to close the gap between them. “You have called me, Apollo, and I willingly accept your request. If you wish to test your skills with me, then test your skills we shall.” Snorting shortly at the end of his sentence, Archibald shifted his gait into a rolling lope. Snow splattered with his crashing hoof beats, the wetness causing the Dauntless to slip every few yards, though the hindrance was small, and the Dauntless pressed on, determination in his eyes. His left leg pulled forward, leading him to the left side of the unicorn. Archibald’s golden eyes scanned the other stallion as he pushed towards him. Apollo was shorter than Archibald, by a foot at the least, and thinner than the bulky draft. Archibald was used to fighting those of smaller stature than him, but even now it sent a hand of excitement to sweep over him.

The Dauntless pinned his ears back flat against his neck, protecting them from flying teeth. Archibald’s head shot out quickly, mouth open and teeth aimed to clamp down on the skin of Apollo’s whither. Simultaneously, the giant thrust his weight towards the smaller stallion, hoping to crash his large shoulder into Apollo’s left side ribcage. Archibald expected the medic to be quick, and he hoped that he would not turn and dart away like a coward. The Grey did not harbor cowards. Whilst still at a canter, Archibald continued to move forward in an attempt to clear past Apollo. On his pass, the warlord kicked out a defensive right rear hoof. The kick’s purpose was to clack into any of Apollo’s kicks, should the paint decide to strike with his limbs at the passing mammoth of a general.

Archibald was glad that Apollo was asking for help, as it was his position to train those in the herd to hone skills of battle. The medic was not the first to call on Archibald’s skills, either. Like the wise warriors before him, Apollo was seeking deeper training. However, the only common factor in this fight compared to the others, was Archibald. Romani, the palomino mare that called for him all those moons ago, was a smaller draft build, strong and stout; Locket, an Arabian by the purest of blood, was quick and fleeting. Apollo seemed to be a mixture of the two: he was stocky and built solidly, but Archibald predicted that he had the capability to be quick and lithe when he needed to be. Archibald could overwhelm him with his strength, but only if Apollo stayed close—but Archibald did not need to stomp out his opponent now, for this was merely for the strengthening of Apollo’s skills, to aid his loyalty to the Grey. For that, Archibald was proud he could be of assistance.







[WC: 758 | PC: 1/3 | BBs: Swift and Aim| After your first move I will add some of my tidbits. Good luck!]