The dark was cold and dreary, and the Dauntless did not understand why the barn had called to him so. Maybe, somewhere in the back of his mind, it reminded him of the Tome Guardian’s home, the broken ghoul’s cathedral. It was an odd building though, standing tall but still deteriorating in and around itself. It was a curious sort of thing, and Archibald stood within its walls with uncertainty. His white painted face reached out as he touched his nose to a cold, metal object. It was not sharp and it did not hurt him, but the metallic scent reminded him of the taste of blood and he flicked his tail in an uncomfortable sort of manner. The brute did not feel fear as he stood in the building, but there was a thick fog of unease that nipped at his feathered hooves. Loretta, silently at his side, lowered herself to the ground and looked around with wide amber eyes, full of wonder and reverence. She, somehow, felt that whatever was in this building could cause her great pain and she was not going to provoke it in any manner.

Shaking his head shortly, with strands of forelock falling over golden eyes, Archibald shifted his weight and turned, heading down a narrow hall that was just wide enough for his hulking frame. Archibald’s crimson and black cape snagged on bits of rusted nails that poked from the decaying walls, but his strong body pulled the fabric loose and only picked small holes in it here and there. The popped collar of the cape tied loosely around the base of his neck with ribbon, the bow probably an easy thing to untie or snap. Behind him, Loretta’s cardboard bat wings knocked against each other, making a dull sort of smacking sound, as if someone was trying to gain entrance on the door. Blood, though not real, stained their maws juxtaposed, and their white feet also had the red splattering.

In the dark corridor, Archibald could see the figure of another horse. A glint of its horns solidified its genetics in his mind, and when he was about to call out to it, it turned on its heels and flung towards him with a wicked glint in its mismatched eyes. A small sense of panic flared in the back of Archibald’s mind as he felt suddenly trapped in the small hall, and he sent a will of his magic towards the approaching beast. He wanted its approach to slow, and instead of sending tremors out from his massive hooves, he sent his desire for bones to become stone. Stopping, the warlord quickly took over his curious mind, blocking out the thought of the barn and why he was here. Black ears slicked down and his chin tucked with training, hips tucking as he lifted his body in as much of a rear as he could manage. The cape fluttered over his thick shoulders, shifting more to the left side, and Archibald quickly struck his fore-hooves out at his attacker, hoping to demolish his chest or, if he chose to strike out and bite him, his head. Archibald grunted as his attacker’s teeth scraped shallowly over his right knee. A line of fur ripped from his skin, small dots of red pushing to the surface.

Archibald, in his hurry to defend himself, did not give himself enough room in the hallway. With a hard thud, the Dauntless’ poll smacked on the wall and his left shoulder smashed hard on a rusted s-hook, digging deep into the flesh over his scapula cartilage, just below his withers. A hiss of pain passed his pursed lips and his golden eyes snapped shut as pain rocked his head, shoulder and knee. Anger flared in his brain, sending electric shocks to his heart as blood began to pound in his ears. Loretta, with a sharp growl, ran forward, hoping to pass the two horses without a scrape by keeping close to the right wall. Her target was the elementally painted hellhound that stood yards behind d’Artagnan and Archibald. Her lips raised and wrinkled, an ugly snarl aiding in her deep throated growl. Jumping towards the smaller dog, Loretta reached out with her head, jaws parted, hoping to catch the youngling in her grasp and pin him to the ground like she had done to Manhattan so many times.

Archibald let his weight fall to all four of his hooves, and he rolled his shoulders forward painfully. Knowing he had to exit the hall, the behemoth pushed forward, hoping to knock straight into the blood bay and push him backwards. Archibald rocketed out many quick bites towards the right side of the unicorn’s neck, his eyes narrowed carefully as his head still rung with the pain of smacking it against the wall.



[WC: 804 | PC: 1/3 | ***EDIT: Archi is dressed as Dracula and Loretta is a bat. | Archibald uses his bone-to-stone magic, hoping to slow d'Artagnan down. He then rears slightly, striking out at d'Art's head or chest, and takes the bite to his right knee. He smacks his head on the wall as well as his shoulder, which gets a deep cut because of an s-hook. Archibald then trucks forward, biting at d'Artagnan's neck to try to push him back. || Wow sorry this is such an awkward post.]