The boy was quick for one so short and stumpy, his dodge efficient but not good enough to miss the blow completely. Fur and flesh gave way to the shade's twin horns, a lashing of blood crowning them but not satisfying them. d'Artagnan grunted as his body met the bulk of Aaron's, the impact vibrating through his shoulder making him peel back his lips. Rows of white teeth shining maliciously, almost like a smile. The cold permafrost against his split hooves a stark contrast to the heat pumping through his body. Lips smack back together as velocity carries him forwards, horns making their way back up from their lowered position. Dual coloured eyes aflame as his mind went through the motions of burning madness.

It was then that the presence of Aaron quickly returned, a flash of searing white and a well muscled body flying dangerously towards him. Speed, d'Artagnan felt, was on his side. With a skid into the frosty surface, the Nightshade arched his back and flicked his rump skywards, two dark cloven hooves aimed straight for the paint's barrel or rear. His eyes almost mocking in their ferocity as he found himself questioning whether these pathetic attacks were all the child could manage. With no marvellous horn, he was a rather useless little worm who had raised his bald head in the face of a lion. Such insignificant and unsatisfactory prey.

The battle moved on, when his feet had finally succumbed to gravity and touched the floor, d'Artagnan moved out to the right. Taking a few seconds to perform the tightest turn his huge, lithely muscled, body would allow to take the fight back to Aaron. Using his sheer height to his advantage, the shade leaned back on his heels and threw his front into the air to form a powerful rear. Lashing out in defiance and hoping the Edge's painted warrior would succumb under the barrage of his cloven hooves, that his bold rear had been timed well enough to claim his target. A shrill scream scorched through the maw of the Time Mender. For the plague, for Kou, for his family and for himself. Since coming to Helovia, the shade had found many new reasons to fight and more incentive to follow his old ideals.

As he fell back to the floor he remembered the faces of his father and mother. Ashamed and angered, their son was nothing but a failure. It was a deep emotional pain that gave d'Artagnan his madness, he had been just a child, left in a dark lonely world.

[w/c :: 429 | 2/4
ooc commentary :: d'Artagnan defends himself against Aaron's attack by bucking. He then takes a few seconds to turn and face Aaron once more, rearing in offence.]

The stallion smiled and stomped his foot. For a split second d'Artagnan thought he had caught the paint in a moment of arrogance and that his life would end there. That was until, his trust in nature was shattered.

Hooves flicked and the ground shook. A surface once so dependable became his worse enemy, the rear end support crumbled and the blood bay stumbled backwards. His balance severed in what seemed like; an earthquake? Pupils dilated as d'Artagnan feared the ground below, like the earth itself had decided to rise up and play it's part against him. This couldn't possibly be because of that fat bare head?! Fumbling, all fours were now on the shaking surface and the Time Mender stumbled around, in effort to regain his balance without losing it all together. It was in his fear of the ground that d'Artagnan lost all sense of bearings and saw Aaron's attack at the last minute. Fore hooves came with vengeance and the shade's attempt to turn away was far too late, instead the Protector found his prize. Feet of a heavy horse hitting into the left of his shoulder forcing a short squeal to escape his angered maw, he fell over himself shirking away from Aaron and his dangerous hooves. A dull pain taking up unwelcome residence in his shoulder, not broken but bruised and battered. He took in deep breaths as he attempted to adjust to the pain.

Puffing and annoyed, he snorted with exertion, a lather of sweat collecting on his neck, his movement marred with a limp of pain. Bastard, go home he threw inwardly at the baby fighter. Who was a lot more experienced in the game of battle than the shade had first thought. His next move would be important, he couldn't afford to misjudge the paint again. d'Artagnan sent a worried look to the ground, would it shake once more? Was he safe? His legs felt a little like jelly, what if it simply opened up and swallowed him whole? The Nightshade shuddered and discarded the thought, fears only clouded the mind on the battlefield. This short arse needed to be taught a lesson.

d'Artagnan prowled to his right, still close to Aaron, eyes of maddening colours always on the boy and body dipped with injury. He had to resist the urge to stop and shower the burning pain with slushy cold snow. Instead he kept his focus. It was a strange thing to fight someone of Aaron's physical stature, he was used to sparring with Kou. A flighty, skinny arabian. If he was being honest, he was struggling to adjust to being the faster sleeker one for a change. Annoyance crept into his gaze, Aaron seemed to be gaining in confidence. Something was driving him on. Tenacious bastard.

A flick of his tail signalled his retaliation, he went in with his right unharmed shoulder and aimed a harsh ripping bite for Aaron's left ear. Again, trying to make use of his height to out manoeuvre the bulky steed before him. Horns ever present just in case Aaron made a wrong move in their direction. Hooves left the ground ever so slightly as his head gained height, leaning into his challenger, eyes wincing at the sharper movement. The fight had reached it's most extreme and d'Artagnan was blowing more than he was at the start. Age was definitely something his opponent had over him.

[w/c :: 571 | 3/4
ooc commentary :: d'Artagnan succumbs to Aaron's War Stomp and backs out of his rear. Frightened by the ground Aaron's attack is successful in hitting and injuring d'Art's left shoulder. Stumbling back once more, d'Artagnan moves to his right, still fairly close to Aaron, and attacks by attempting to bite his left ear whilst leaning into him.]

d'Artagnan cursed as his lunge to bite his opponent's white ear missed it's target and instead simply shaved off some hair, the boy was quick on his feet and in thinking. Blood coloured ears flicker backwards in anger as he made a dash away from Aaron, realizing the momentum he had been carrying had left him wide open for attack. So it was a surprise when the Nightshade turned back to see the oncoming attack that, in fact, there wasn't one. Apart from an intense concentration on his foe's face. He grimaced a smile what, is he trying to stare me to death. The smile turned into a chuckle as he surmised that the draft was simply all bark and no bite. Although that ground shake was certainly something, maybe he'd run out of stamina. Hard to believe, with a body so muscled as his. It was when d'Artagnan was slowly letting his guard down it came.

Searing, burning it raged on through his body. Fire! It burned but it didn't. The Nightshade screamed in agony and began to back up. His instincts were in a mess, the thought of fire told him to flee, yet the flames themselves didn't burn. This was worse than the ground shaking, he would of preferred the shaking ground over this! His body lurched with the sick feeling pain brought, his head held high and away from the flames. Eyes showing their whites. The Nightshade's sanity snapped and forward his legs took him, anything to get him away from the flames. Away from the pain. With a flurry of hooves he turned his rear to the flames defensively. Flicking up his rump now as he galloped. His ears flickered between the fire and Aaron, a wildness about his pace.

Spurred on by necessity to get away, the shade collected himself and attempted smashing into Aaron's left side at a gallop. His rump flicking up again with no real aim to it, face no longer contorted with anger and instead a fear of a horse against fire. There was no real coherency to his thoughts and actions. d'Artagnan had never faced fire, he was a clan war veteran and well versed in the minds of warrior tactics. This however he was not. Magic was rare where he came from. Ironically, Seiren would have been a better match for his arrogant child who used his demon talent to trap him.

The fire in his body raged on and d'Artagnan slowed to a halt now positioned behind Aaron. Hurting and recoiling within himself, is this ever going to end?

Has this child... This boy... Defeated me?

Teeth grit at the angered thought but his huddled stance remained.

[w/c :: 452 | 4/4
ooc commentary :: d'Artagnan looses himself within Aaron's fire attack and screams out in pain. Hurtling at a gallop in attempt to escape it, d'Artagnan barges himself into Aaron and throws in a random buck. Carrying his momentum forward to now be positioned a few yards away from Aaron, withdrawing within himself in pain.]

The seconds ticked by and for what felt like eternity he burned until, finally, it stopped. His body that was tensed in pain felt relief flood through it and d'Artagnan made a shaky sigh. There were no burns on his body, no blood, just a dull ache in his shoulder from when Aaron had smacked him. For a split second, everything seemed quiet and peaceful, no searing flame spreading through his body. He was okay! He wasn't dying. It was a moment of joy short lived as the thunder of hooves finally registered in his mind, dual eyes narrowed as he turned to see the painted warrior charging straight for him. In a quick fire decision, d'Artagnan bolted from the spot he had been stood and made a dart to the side to dodge the attack of Aaron. As he did so, he felt the rush of the bare head's body on the side of his, barely the connection was made but it was enough to send the shade scampering sideways at the contact. Wincing as his shoulder screamed in protest, just like Aaron screamed like a wet newborn.

The momentum he was carrying finally came to a halt and the sides of the blood bay heaved in weariness, nostrils flaring as he went after more air. Sweat collecting in his pits, on his neck and between his legs. A trail of steam following him wherever he went. The battle must now be over. There wasn't much left either of them could throw at each other, it was just a question of who would crumble first. "Too rash boy." He puffed out in his gruff tones. "For the right price your mother will be returned, but if you've got the strength left. Go take her" a smile of malice sat pretty on his features then. To decide whether the battle was won would decide on whether he had successfully deterred Aaron. Tail flicking from side to side, swatting the flies that had come to feast on his sticky body.

The day was growing long and d'Artagnan looked up at the retreating light, the battle was over and he no longer had a reason to linger. He hadn't been disgraced at least, and he wasn't dead. With a heave of his sooty legs, the Nightshade began to walk away from his foe, eyes searching for the pool that never froze. Throat parched, his gait had a limp to it and he dipped when he walked. He'd patch it up later, for now he was too tired to use his time magic on something so trivial.

[w/c :: 434 || Defence Post
ooc commentary :: d'Artagnan dodges Aaron's charge by darting out to the side, barely missing him and being pushed sideways by the minimal contact. He then says a few words and leaves the battlefield with a limp]