The ruse is a success. The younger stallion cries out to his companion in panic, hooves thundering one-two-three-four behind the ‘geriatric son of a bitch’ in rapid succession. The elder turns, drops into a crouching position with horns pointed forward, and clenches his eyes shut against the impending force of the black and gold’s momentum. Even with ears pinned flat against his neck he can hear the other stallion inhale sharply and assumes with a surge of wicked satisfaction that the gasp is a sign of the little shit realizing his dangerous predicament, realizing that he’s been outsmarted and that a filthy old man will be his undoing, but the gasp is followed by an unsettling silence where stutter steps, collision, and the whoosh of air being forced from his petty little lungs should be.

Confused, the black opens his eyes and raises his head just as the younger stallion rocks his weight backward onto his haunches and through some feat of youth’s Herculean athleticism - or some other equally unsporting bullshittery - manages to actually hurl himself into the air and over the elder’s head. Angry at being so easily thwarted, the black arches his maneless neck and sweeps his poll to his left, the other’s right, in an attempt to catch his airborne adversary across the belly or more preferably balls with the unblunted tips of his horns. He fears his movement is too little, too late and won't be enough to cause any real damage, but he spitefully envisions raking the bastards hind legs as he passes at the very least. He hadn’t even thought such an escape maneuver was possible, so watching the idiot stumble and fall would provide some needed consolation for this thorough trouncing, even if it comes at the price of a mild concussion from flailing hooves. He’ll take whatever he can get.

Last ditch effort thus expended, the old man stands panting with exertion, utterly spent. He has nothing left to give and he’s fairly certain that both of them know it. The black and gold lashes out with his hind legs once, then twice, his kicks landing square and uncontested in the elder's left ribcage. He grunts an unhappy acknowledgement of the hits, air forced out of his lungs with each strike, but these blows seem less forceful than the earlier cow-kick and double barrel buck that he’d been lucky enough to avoid and their damages pale in comparison. He watches the younger stallion regroup and position himself for another round of pointless violence, but when he poses a question instead of a renewed threat, the elder drops his head in instant relief. He doubts he'd have made it through another attack.

Gingerly calculating, he noses at the unattractive flap of skin hanging from his left shoulder, blood dripping down his foreleg and painting his hoof a dark shade of maroon. This in particular will need a healer. He turns to glare accusingly at the other stallion, blood now smeared across his muzzle. “That depends, is this enough blood to pay for my sins? Have you found your version of justice in beating an old man for speaking ill of you?” He snorts heavily, both to clear his laboring airways and to emphasize the derision in his voice, blood flicking across the space between them as he does. “I might be an unlikable ass, but you're a real piece of work yourself, boy. Go home and gloat to your friends, preen yourself, celebrate your great defeat of an already broken man. What a hero you are."

He turns to leave then, slowly lifting and placing each hoof with visible effort. He limps heavily in the front, trying to place as little weight on his left foreleg as possible, and hobbles in slow, shortened steps with his rear, the after effects of the younger stallion's magic still felt in full force. Now that all the excitement is done the adrenaline in his body will begin to fade and the aches and pains of his already agonizing wounds will amplify, so he needs to reach the Basin before then, or some other secluded spot to lay down and die begin recovering in.




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Damage: Bruising to his left ribcage. Will cause stiffness and make heavy or rapid breathing uncomfortable.

Attack: Throws his head up to try catching Rikyn in the legs/stomach/genitals with his horns as he flies past.

@Rikyn Thank you so much for doing this with me! It’s been really fun. <3