Aryel was finding it difficult to discern what was going on outside her mental haze. Everything was fuzzy, indistinct, and echoing. That didn't stop her from noticing the stallion's body tense up in response to her insult. From her bent, uncomfortable position kneeling on the ground, she watched as his form approached, all but demanding a duel.

He didn't seriously expect her to fight with that damned mare's fog in her brain, did he? Anger rose inside her. Anger at his arrogance. Anger at Lana's and Athena's servitude. Anger at the bratty white-faced mare who had left her prone and terrified on the ground. Anger at the white stallion with black spots who now stood on the scene impassively. She wasn't taking any more of this. She shut her eyes and clamped her jaw, trying to force out the alien presence. Her stretched-out front leg bent stiffly, and her head no longer craned towards the ground. She could feel the fog slipping away, her lead-weighted limbs coming back under her control. She held onto that feeling, finding that reasserting her will over her own body was not so different from calling up her own magic. Her front half rose again as her feet were set firmly beneath her, and with a final burst of strength, her cobalt wings with their intricate silver marks rustled open and flapped, dispelling the last of the mist from around her. She met his cold glare with a glare of her own, the miasma's glaze gone from her eyes. For the moment, she appeared every inch a warrior, albeit a very small one who had no doubt this would be a painful fight.

Refolding her wings, she smirked and began to slowly circle the male and his hellhound. Two amulet gems clinked together on a length of metallic-colored rope around her neck, one a purple drop of Time blood, the other a golden gem from the Sun. The stallion had had his time to brag and throw his weight about. It was her turn now. Her head was tilted at an angle that suggested skepticism, one brow raised. "Leave? Do you actually think I want to spend any more time in your barren land than I have to?" She chuckled, the surge of energy that battles brought to her leaving her both nervous and confident. "I just want to collect my friends and go." She had completed her circle by now and stood a few yards in front of him again, sighing. "But if you really must demand satisfaction, then I suppose there's no harm in humoring a hornhead." Taunt delivered, she stood still for a few heartbeats

Giving no sign, she broke into a charge, galloping towards the male head-on. Her eyes sparked once before the irises began to glow an electric blue, accompanied by bright blue flames trailing from her wingtips and licking around her hooves. These flames hissed as her daggers struck the snow, but never went out. Seconds before she collided straight into D'artagan, she made two rapid turns. A tilt to the right to avoid a collision, then left again to close back in, so she was now on his right side, their barrels almost touching. The false charge had been a feint in the hopes he would assume she was simply foolhardy. Her left wing opened enough to close the gap between them, the flame burning brightly. She kept this wing open as she ran past him, intending to drag the flame across his side and create a long, painful scorch down his shoulder, chest, abdomen, and hip.

As she passed his rump, she tilted quickly to the left again. When their rumps were facing eachother, she dug her front hooves into the ground to stop herself and threw her hind hooves, still flaming, up and forward at his flesh. This attack, because of the speed and direction she had been going, would not carry the force of a full buck, but her flames could still burn him. And if he ended up with a hoof-shaped brand on either side of his tail? Bonus. As soon as her hooves came back to earth, the flames fizzled. She could only hold the ability for so long, but she had completed her attack. Now, her focus was on defense. She galloped a few paces to the right and whirled, trying to give herself space for the counterattack she knew would be coming. As she watched the stallion, she noticed a weight leaving her back and glanced up, still trying to keep D'artagan in her view. Java was on his first flight! His outline was difficult to see against the black night sky, but she was able to make him out as he fluttered in a rough circle around the two duelists.

(Words: 800 straight!
Posts: 1/4
Magic/Companion: 1/2
Amulets: 0 used out of 2
Summary: Charges him head-on, feints at the last moment to run down his right side, trying to drag her flaming wing down his side as well. Finished her attack with a flaming buck at his hindquarters, gallops a few paces to the right and turns to prepare for his attack. Java starts his first flight and circles them, ready to help.
Injuries: None

OOC: Aside form getting beaten up, are there any other consequences D'art will enact if she looses?)


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"Talk talk talk talk."

To her disappointment, the brute had been quicker than she anticipated and was able to skitter away as her wing flames licked at his hide. She thought she had felt contact, but couldn't be sure. The two had now parted, prepared for their next joust. Aryel pawed the ground like an enraged bull, lowering her head as if she had a horn of her own to challenge him with.

She hadn't expected the sickening, dizzy feeling that suddenly invaded her body, though. It was magic, obviously, and left her swaying on her feet, peering through rapidly-blurring eyes at the beast bearing down on her. Did every unicorn here have nasty magic? Why on earth did Kri bother declaring neutrality with them? They should've swept every unicorn out of the north and into the embrace of death a long time ago. Oddly enough, the sensation only lasted a few seconds. She was aware of a high, clear, almost ringing noise emanating from somewhere near her chest. Her Spark amulet was glowing brightly, the drowsiness vanishing. With a final flash, a bolt of oily-colored magic leapt from the amulet and flowed into D'artagnan as he approached. Somehow, the gem had cast his own spell back at him. With a crack, the amulet shattered, shards of vivid purple burying themselves in the snow and rapidly changing to grey.

Well, if she was getting a stroke of luck, she would take it.

Not wasting a moment, Aryel charged forward. This time, she wasn't feinting. Her head was lowered and her body tensed as she braced herself for what was sure to be a nasty collision. She was hoping that the narcotic effect was working on him as it had on her, trusting that it would unbalance him and leave him more vulnerable to a full-body tackle. She did not, however, assume it would leave her entirely unscathed. Sometimes, you had to take a risk.

As she neared him, she brought her right shoulder to bear, aimed at his chest. With unicorns, she figured, close combat was about coming in low and fast, essentially staying under their horns. If they met, she would no doubt end up with bruising on her shoulder, as well as non-severe teeth scrapes on her wing joint. Whether or not they collided, she also tried to lift her front legs so they were on either side of him and snap viciously at his throat, aiming for right under his skull. This was partially to inflict damage, and partially to keep his head upwards to prevent him from biting or stabbing with his horn. Had they not been in a fight, she would have recoiled from being in such close contact with him. At least her stature benefited her in this position, giving her easier access to his throat. Overhead, Java continued to circle, bright black eyes trained on the unicorn and his hellhound.

(Words: 483
Posts: 2/4
Magic/Companion: 1/2
Amulets: 1/1 (I was a dumb and thought Sun amulets didn't have to be purposefully cast at)
Summary: Amulet absorbs D'art's magic and sends it back at him, then she charges towards him and aims her right shoulder for his chest. His bite lands, but due to her charging the force is reduced. She then pushes her front half up to bite at his neck multiple times.
Injuries: Shoulder bruising, wing bite)


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"Talk talk talk talk."

Yet another grazing! The bay was fast for his size, which frustrated Aryel. Well, aside from his magic, his strength, and his arrogance. All that frustrated her too. The odds were stacked against her, and she knew it. All she could do now was give him hell and hope , by some divine miracle, that she would survive.

It was going to be difficult, though.

She grunted as D'art brought his weight to bear again, arching up and trying to push her down with his body. The two were still locked in a sort of vicious embrace, their hooves over eachother's shoulders as they viewed for control. Idiot, she chided herself, trying to keep her hooves from loosing purchase on the snowy ground. In this position he could use his greater weight to his advantage. She was forced to take shaky, quick steps backwards as he pushed, lest her back snap under his weight. She had caught the glimmer of his amulet not long before, and it had obviously negated the magic she had rebounded back at him. He was gaining more ground as he shoved, and she could feel her hooves beginning to slip. His knees pressed painfully into her chest. To avoid being slammed onto her side in the snow, she relinquished her hold on him and her front legs dropped to the ground again, in time for him to grab a mouthful of mane and skin on her crest, narrowly missing the eagle feather that was woven into her mane. Aryel whinnied as the pain shot through her, and something shifted inside her. Rend. Kill. Tear. Inflict pain. That was all that mattered.

She recalled the sensation of releasing her fire magic, the glorious rush and rage and energy that came as flames erupted from her hooves and wingtips. While his bite held her head, and by extension kept her body from rearing up to her previous height, their close quarters meant that hopefully she wouldn't need height, although she certainly would have liked it. She brought up that feeling again, irises shining electric blue as the flames returned to their places. She pushed herself forward, front hooves rising off the ground the strike at his chest and legs. With her crest held down, she didn't have as much accuracy or force as she normally would, but she was trying to scorch him, not break something (although she would have loved to crack his ribs). At the same time, her wings opened, then swung forward as she tried to smack the flaming tips to his shoulders. The position was uncomfortable, she was not used to bring her wings so far forward, but it was bearable, and in the stress of the situation the soreness could be ignored. With luck, he would release his painful grip and give them some space. The flames would extinguish after thirty seconds, but she doubted he would be stupid enough to maintain his hold. At the same time, she jerked her head back and forth, trying to jerk her mane out of his mouth. The pain intensified when she did so, though, and she knew she would be missing a chunk of mane, not to mention skin, from that area.

(Words: 538
Posts: 3/4
Magic/Companion: 2/2
Amulets: 1/1 (I was a dumb and thought Sun amulets didn't have to be purposefully cast at)
Summary: Gets forced to all fours, is bitten on the crest, and begins half-rearing to strike D'art's chest and front legs with her flaming hooves, while flapping her wings forward at him to brush the flames against his shoulders. Injuries: Shoulder bruising, wing bite, crest bite)

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"Talk talk talk talk."

At the stallion's cry of fear, an uncharacteristically sadistic smile pulled at the mare's lips. Good. Let him fear her. You didn't trifle with her friends without consequences. Aryel did not seem to notice her heightened bloodlust. Whether it was the thrill of the fight or her own fire magic adversely affecting her mind was of no concern. What mattered was making this arrogant, highborn bastard squeal. With a sickening lurch, her flames seemed to pull away from her body, flickering into nonexistence. Somewhere unknown to the two, in another world, they were burped into thin air, startling a blue roan winged stallion and a bay mare adorned with glass horns out of their fight. Back in this world, Aryel reflected that the entire encounter had been full of unpleasant feelings. First, that terrifying feeling of loosing control over herself. Then, the stallion's narcotic magic briefly working on her, and finally, the sensation of having her flames sucked away. She liked to think she was repaying him for it, though. She certainly felt at least one blow connect with his chest.

She noticed his eyes straying to her wing, but before she could retract them he had snapped successfully at her right wing. However, if he had been trying to injure her, he hadn't entirely accomplished that. Her wing muscles did not extend all the way down her wings, in fact, they stopped soon after her "wrist" joint, where the ulna bone was located. These were not the leathery, draconian wings of her sire and half-brother, magnificent and clawed but laced with nerves and blood vessels. He did, however, pull out a couple of primaries, causing her to yelp. Feathers fell out naturally, but yanking them out so roughly would result in a few drops of blood and a stinging feeling. She took a moment to examine the damage, glaring at the stallion as she reflected that her flight would be affected until her feathers grew back. And he did really have to pull out two of the silver-marked ones? Those were her favorite, as foolish as it sounded.

She made to pursue him as he turned to flee, until a memory from a fight with Gaucho surfaced. He had pulled the same trick, running away only to present a view of large, flailing hooves. She backpedaled and turned her face to the side, but felt his hooves scrape her left cheek. It was better than taking a blow to the nose, though. She had had enough of that with Gaucho, to be sure. She found herself wondering if the tactics used by the two of them in their spars could be of any use here. Kicking snow into his face wouldn't do any good, he was fleeing. Pulling off impressive acrobatic feats was useless unless he grew a pair of wings (and a pair of balls, since he so obviously lacked them). The thought did give her an idea, though. She dug deep into her reserves of stamina, fighting off the fatigue that had begun to creep in. She chased after him again, but this time her wings were thrashing the air, bearing her aloft with a powerful jump. Her wings stirred the snow into flurries, a contingent of formless snow specters to flank her. Aryel wasn't strong, but she was quick. The lack of her primaries showed, leaving her tilted to the right. However, it was a straight, quick flight with no turning required. She gained altitude as she pursued him, counting on his exhaustion to slow him enough for her plan to work. When she was over him so that her shadow fell over his, giving him ghostly black wings of his own, she folded her wings and dived, holding her limbs out straight. Her intent was to strike him from above, using her weight to inflict damage on his back or rump. She was small, yes, but a slightly-larger-than-pony-sized mass of flesh, bones, and feathers dropping on one's back had to hurt. She also knew keeping up while she fell would be difficult, but she was not far above him, only a matter of feet, and was hoping her velocity would keep her form above his. At the same time, she was watching him carefully, ready to spread her wings to break her fall should he move. If he did veer away, she would have a rough but successful landing and immediately turn to face him.

(OOC: Genderbent dimension mentioned because it's 11 PM and that doesn't mix well with caffeinated Coke YAY. At least it seems to be good for my muse.
Words: 740
Posts: 4/4
Magic/Companion: 2/2
Amulets: 1/1
Summary: D'art's magic succeeds, and his bite takes two primary feathers. She tries to chase after him, and takes a hoof brushing to the left cheek. She goes after him again, jumping into the air to pursue him by wing. When she is above him, she drops, intending to drop her hooves, and her body weight behind them, onto his back or rump, and is prepared to land if she misses.
Injuries: Shoulder bruising, wing bite, crest bite, lost feathers, cheek bruise/scrape)

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"Talk talk talk talk."

Well, if she couldn't snap his back, at least she could bruise his rear. She smirked again at his pained curse and subsequent gasp as her hooves collided with his body. Oh, I'm sorry. Did that hurt? Good, you bastard. That's what you get for keeping my friends hostage. She still couldn't believe they would violate the neutrality agreement the two herds held. If only she had know about the Plague and their twisted reasoning, she would have led in an army instead of going alone. At least she could take out her rage on this stallion. Every injury she inflicted gave her a feeling of grim satisfaction. She hadn't escaped being wounded herself, but she had learned how to turn her pain into rage, lashing out as any injured animal would.

It didn't mean the fog of battle left her completely blind, though. As she landed, she noticed D'art swinging towards her, transparent horns gleaming coldly in the moonlight. Her cobalt eyes narrowed as he did, wings remaining half-open, her entire pose suggesting tension and focus. So now the unicorn finally brought his birth weapons into play, for all the good they would do. Why on earth would he want a chunk of keratin sticking out of his head when he could have wings to soar out of range with? Sure, they were useful as weapons, but that was it. He would never experience the euphoria of flight, of chasing the moon over the horizon or feeling the wind lift him up, of being well and truly free. That was well worth the lack of an extra weapon. Furthermore, wings could heal if given the proper care. Horns would not regrow if cracked or damage. He was proof of that. Had she been as racist as he was, she would have pitied the ground-bound stallion.

As his horns sliced at her neck, she threw herself to the left, at the same time lowering her head so her nose was pointed at the ground. She also beat her wings once to increase the speed with which she turned away, hopefully blowing some powder snow into his face while she was at it. She grunted as his top horn scraped briefly at her neck, leaving a half-inch vertical scratch near her mane that would leave a raised, red mark, but it was nowhere near as bad as the long horizontal cut he obviously meant to inflict. Maybe her frequent fighting had made her grow tougher skin? She certainly felt more in-shape than she once was, as well as more coordinated.

She continued her turn away from him, galloping off several paces and giving him a contemptuous flick of her tail. She came to a skidding stop, hooves leaving trenches in the snow, and stopped, sides heaving, more aware of her injuries now that the fight was winding down. Her fury was replaced with a sullen anger mixed with fatigue, but there was a feeling of accomplishment as well. She had shown him what happened when you disrespected the Dragon's Throat. Aryel turned to face him, comparing his state against his. D'artagnan was just as injured as her, if not more. Breathing clouds in the cold air, she grinned in spite of herself.

(OOC: Thank you for the compliment ^^ I liked fighting D'art.
Words: 541
Posts: 4/4, 1/1 Closing Defense.
Magic/Companion: 2/2
Amulets: 1/1
Summary: Lands after striking his haunch, then throws herself to the left to lessen the effect of his horn stab while beating her wings to increase the turn. She then gallops away and comes to a stop, then turns and faces him.
Injuries: Shoulder bruising, wing bite, crest bite, lost feathers, cheek bruise/scrape, small cut on neck.)

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"Talk talk talk talk."

(Yeah, I figured. Thanks, judge.)

The fight was finished, and while it was obvious that D'art had clawed his way to the top, Aryel refused to let her disappointment in herself show. She may have lost this fight, but this would not be the end of the issue. She looked up and smiled as Java fluttered down, the adolescent bat landing heavily on her forehead and clinging there, resting his cheek against her head and looking at her with concern. "I'm fine, Java." she laughed softly. "Well, if you count 'being able to walk' as fine. And look at you, you're flying!" Puffing out his chest proudly, he detached from her head and did a quick loop in the air, then fluttered above her to come to rest on her neck, holding her mane tightly. After ensuring he was settled, she turned to D'artagnan, all pleasantry gone from her gave to be replaced by a snide grin. "Did you enjoy your temper tantrum, foal?" she asked sweetly. "Perhaps you should go back to sucking on your mother's tit." As far as she was concerned, that was all the fight was. The stallion throwing a tantrum over being called names like a spoiled child.

Cobalt eyes now went to Athena and Lana, and her jaw tightened. She would retrieve them one way or another. Turning to leave, she looked back at the bay male. "You let them go, hornhead," she spat, "or there will be trouble from the Throat. The next time I come here, I won't be alone." Threat delivered, she flicked her tail at him and began walking out of the Basin, managing to keep her limp from becoming obvious.

Next order of business? Speak with Kri and organize a squadron.

-exit Aryel-

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"Talk talk talk talk."