He was huge. Covered head to toe in heavy armor, bristling with spikes, and carrying a rather large sword at his side, he was the epitome of death and destruction. The elf took a look at the Rider's steed, and immediately recognized his stallion, even transformed as he had been.
The hide had been bleached slightly, giving him a ghostly grey quality, and where hooves and fetlocks of flesh and bone had once been, now an eerie glow emanated, blue in the darkness. The stallion had been given armor: the champron over the stallion's face was black metal, decorated at the top with the traditional horns that curved down and out; the criniere was of matching black metal, spiked a bit to give the deathcharger's neck a menacing silhouette each time he moved; a peytral adorned with a human skull protected the stallion's chest, with more human skulls dangling as grim trophies on each side where it met the saddle, and a dark metal croupiere protected it's flanks and hindquarters. Truly, he had chosen very well. Now just to earn it back.
The Rider seemed to be oblivious to his intrusion to the shadowrealm, so he made his way slowly down the hill, his sword out and at the ready. There would be no hiding this time, no waiting for the perfect moment to strike. He would defeat the Dark Rider and take back his prize.
At the base of the hill, Purah broke out into a run. The Rider saw him coming and charged, the stallion leaping forward to barrel towards the death knight at full speed. At just the last moment, Purah leaped out of the way, cutting high. His sword rang out as it scraped along the criniere to hit the rider square in the chest. The blow would have killed a mortal man, but this was anything but.
The equestrian turned the stallion tightly and faced him, using magics to disease Purah's dead body. It slowed him, made thinking difficult. He returned in kind, using what powers of frost he had to make the rider's moves sluggish. Hopefully it would slow him down long enough to keep Purah's confused movements fast enough to dodge out of the way.
The sword fight seemed to last hours, though it had to only be a few moments. Racked with disease, desperate to escape the heavy blows of the rider, fighting at a disadvantage, he almost didn't make it. Blow after blow rained down from above, the deathcharger eager to please it's rider... but in the end, Purah's speed and his ability to keep his head through the magical disease saved him. A final, desperate blow knocked the rider from the back of the stallion. The moment his body hit the ground, the elf death knight impaled him to the earth with his runeblade. It was finished.
The Dark Rider twitched once or twice, but finally collapsed to the ground, a pool of green ichor and red blood mixing in the grass. He removed his sword, cleaned it on the fallen undead's tunic, and turned to his prize.
The deathcharger stood waiting as if it understood what had transpired. As Purah approached, it didn't turn or run. He prepared to mount and it didn't sidestep. Oh, yes, this is my stallion. This is my deathcharger. Mine, and mine alone. The ride back up the hill was swift and the little horn he had been given was a clarion call in the darkness. It seemed to tear the shadows away, revealing the true Death's Breach and Salanar the Horseman. Purah had to blink a few times, to adjust to the brightness of the real world.
"Welcome back, Bloodsword. You have succeeded where most initiates fail, Purah." He gestured to the deathcharger, now tossing it's armored head. He then handed Purah a sigil, a symbol of his mastery and abilities thus far and turned away. The elf looked down at his mount, at his perfect deathcharger, and smiled.
Mine, and mine alone.
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