They came, in childish dreams of heroic rescue to free their damsels from the clutches of evil. All squaring up preparing to fight, foolishly believing they could actually win. Not this time, their numbers had dwindled in complacence and barrels were fatter with the luxuries of herd life. They were no match for the hardened soldiers of the Basin who fought the very mountains to stay alive and were finally gifted with a land of their own. Did they really think they stood a chance inside the walls of the Aurora? How foolish of them to think so, the Nightshade viewed them with nothing but contempt and amusement.

d'Artagnan briefly noted the appearance of Crowley when he came in aid, looking for Lace. The Mender offered him a brief nod before turning back to his own prisoner, Solstice. She seemed braver with the knowledge her family was near and spoke words that made him laugh. He flung a hoof backwards to hopefully cut her shoulder and idly cocked his head to one side, "Foolish little equine. I cannot set you free without the order of my superior, let your family come for here you shall remain."

A smirk was all he offered her, for d'Artagnan had more urgent matters to attend to. Like the charging Lace. The Nightshade's expression deepened with anger and he lowered his horns, angling them to slice (not to impale) in case the idiot bare head didn't stop. It was in a few strides that Lace took his charge upwards and bared his hooves with no thought, flickers of blue flame springing from his mouth. d'Artagnan's pools widened in surprise for a moment, not expecting one of such plain blood to possess magic. He knew it was possible, but it still always surprised him. The grulla introduced himself and laid down his challenge, to which the mare who had followed him answered in impressive venom. Lobes flicked in attention to the arrival of the golden airhead but eyes remained on Lace, probing and watching. It wasn't wise to take ones gaze off a wielder of fire, unless they wanted to be charred with the smell of burning flesh.

Leander, the feathered dolt who had just appeared seemed to show his consent to Lace and d'Artagnan finally allowed a dark smile to ripple onto lips. General Deimos took charge of Svetlana with swift management leaving it open for d'Artagnan to deal with the grulla boy. Which was almost too easy, the ball was and always will be in his court. With a roll of his eyes in exasperation he moved his glass daggers to aim at Solstice, flickering an eye to Lace. "You're not very bright are you? Take one more false step and I'll end her life."

Gruff tones were lethargic, like he was talking to a child. Vibrant poison dripping from the ends of his horns, a custom d'Artagnan had taken up whilst he quested for stronger magic. A ringing in lobes as blood lust set in, almost daring the crafter to come closer. To give him the chance to slide his horns into the paint equine and feel death claim her.