Much to his dismay, his attempted swing towards the dark Lord was in vain, for they sliced through nothing but air. Jerking his head back around to face forward, the brindle dropped his hindquarters to some degree to aid him in stopping, but the tile flooring was foreign to his hooves and was more slick than anything he had ever walked before. When he did stop several feet later, a sharp snort of utter annoyance left his nostrils as the Weaver straightened himself back out. His shoulder throbbed painfully, as though Deimos were lodging his horn within it, pulling it out, and then repeating the action every few seconds.

Speaking of the Reaper...

When Crowley recognized the feral growl that could only be Talbot's, he snapped his gaze to the hound and the other behemoth just in time to watch his partner successfully sink his teeth into a black shoulder. Golden eyes widened as he watched the scene unfold; parting his mouth, Crowley was about to call the hound off and demand that he stand down, but he was dislodged from the Lord's hide with little difficulty.

Back on the ground just seconds later, Talbot gave a shake of his head and exchanged a short look with his master. Through the invisible line of their bond, the horned pup could feel that Crowley didn't wish for him to give chase to the Reaper. In Crowley's mind, this had all just been one big mistake, neither of them intending to purposefully bring harm to the other. Already knowing one another, they could put their heads together and come up with a scheme that would get them out of here alive - but a sudden crash of metallic cut his thought short.

Barreling towards him was a table set upon wheels, and on top of it was an impressive collection of sharp instruments ranging from scapels, needles, knives, and even a saw or two. Beneath the flickering lights, their deadly gleam was intensified, drawing closer and closer with every blink of the flourescent bulbs. Seeing as his previous thought of working together with Deimos was terribly flawed, Crowley dug his hind hooves into the flooring, fighting for purchase and cursing himself for standing still for so long in this strange place. Even if Deimos hadn't continued his attack, it was a foolish move.

Unable to get a solid grip, the table crashed full force into Crowley's left haunch with nearly enough force to completely send his feet out from under him. Meeting the end of their ride, the various sharps flew from the table, some hitting the floor and sliding across the slick tile in a deadly mess, while others found a new home right in the Weaver's hide. A terrible, agonized scream broke from his jaws as he carried himself forward, bucking and kicking out in a fit of rage and pain, but it did little to dislodge the knife settled just behind his flank. If anything, it only magnified the pain and his wild movement almost sent him straight to the floor; but, luckily, it had aided him in moving just in time out of the way of Deimos' deadly magic.

Turning to face the death dealer, Crowley caught a glimpse of one of the strange two-legged creatures just as it scuttled away from Deimos, but his full attention stayed on that of the other stallion standing in the corner of the room. Taking advantage of the Reaper's ill placement, the brindle pushed himself onwards to close the short distance between them, straining his eyes against the incessantly flickering lights. Right now, it didn't matter if Deimos was his Lord and leader or not; he was in very real danger, and now was no time to try and talk the steed out of his attack.

When the distance seemed right, Crowley turned his body abruptly to the left, hoping the tile would do as he thought it would and keep him coming at the Reaper. Though he struggled to keep himself standing in those last few feet, his aim was to plow his entire mass right into Deimos' side, unaware that his Lord had just been laced with powerful poison. At this same time, Talbot came dashing forward from where he had been bitten Deimos earlier, a feral snarl squeezing from between bared teeth as he went around Crowley and made haste for Deimo's front, claws clicking against the floor as he pushed himself up and off of it, aiming to close his acid-rittled teeth somewhere along the stallion's face.

[760 words. 2/3 attacks.

Hit by table, takes a knife into the skin just behind his left flank, avoids the death magic.
Runs at Deimos and then turns to the left, using the tile to help him slam himself forcefully into Deimos while he's in the corner.
Talbot comes running to Deimos at this time(at Crowley's rear) and jumps up, biting for his face.]

"Talk talk talk"