d'Artagnan was seething. He had made up his mind, allowed Aviya to take care of the filth that had fallen across the Basin, his daughter was more than capable of dealing with them. She was strong and none knew it more so than her own father. However, the fly who had laughably called herself a Sergeant said one too many words she should not have. Teeth had clenched and the Nightshade had gone eerily still, the mare had crossed the line when she belittled the horn. If that was not enough she had then, the stupidity to carry on, like he needed more bait to put her six feet under, this Aryel continued to brag about her precious warriors. The Nightshade smiled at her last words to him. "That must be terrible. Not being able to kill anyone without an order?!" He looked at her pitifully, maw turning into a sneer as he turned back and began to advance forwards towards her. "Too bad for you, I'm not burdened with such ceremonies and sentiments. The law is clear here, you trespass we show no mercy. You dare come into our land and besmirch the horn, my species, show me then, Aryel how much better you really are."

d'Artagnan allowed his gaze to travel to Aviya, in one look he tried to convey an apology. The Time Mender didn't want to take the glory away from her, but the heathen before him had taken it to a level where d'Artagnan just couldn't ignore it. He was sure, however, that his daughter would understand. Daddy had to go teach the bad flies a lesson. Aramis shared his bonded's rage, heckles lining his back and he glowed in red anger. Claws out and digging into the surface he was by the side of the Nightshade, waiting for the words that would set him loose on the winged vermin. His time would come eventually.

The Nightshade stood with a confidence that came with deepening age, with the eyes of a mad man starved of blood and a body that harboured magical power. d'Artagnan had always hated the Throat, ever since the day they took him captive whilst beating his herd out of their rightful home. He smiled and looked to the moon, two of her blue amulets hung loosely from his mane, the night belonged to him. The cold air and the familiar landscape, it all played into his favour. He watched Aryel coldly and wondered if the mighty Sergeant would run with her tail between her legs, or whether she'd take up his gauntlet like a good warrior should. "I asked you to leave, but it seems you don't want to. You leave me no choice other than to force you to leave."

--

[w/c: 460]
[d'Artagnan is challenging Aryel for trespass.
Standard Challenge rules apply.
4 Posts each + closing defence.]