It all happened so fast.

Talbot's bite found it's mark, his teeth creating a satisfying, jagged mark from what seemed to be the Reaper's neck all the way down to his chest. The hound released the stallion when his feet found the floor again, and he was only a little disappointed that the Basin Lord had minimal interest in him. But he did not falter nor give up, instead scurrying out of the way of the two males and moving towards the middle of the room before coming to a stop, eyes calculating as he waited for the next opportunity for an attack.

Although not quite to the effect he'd been hoping for, Crowley's ploy had worked. His body slid right into that of Deimos', and he could feel the other stallion's hips go smashing into the wall nearest to him. It was a shame that his height difference played little to no role in the attack, for what would have happened if Deimos was held by a smaller, frailer body? A sinister grin threatened to pull and stretch across his face in that second - whether at the quick thought or the mere fact that he had pinned Deimos for a moment, he didn't know - but the threat fled when he felt the dark brute moving against him and heard feet behind him.

Moving into action in way of forward motion, the clothed adversary who had silently watched while he recovered from his own dose of the Reaper's magic, made another move. This time it was not on the harbinger of death, but on him. Just as soon as he had realized the man's presence, the scientist was successful in plunging a needle past the hide and thick sinew of his gaskin, injecting only Goddess knew what into his system. The stab was quick and sharp with minimal pain, but the effects of the drug were almost instant. As the brindle tried to force himself forward against the already difficult, smooth ground in an attempt to gain distance from both Deimos and now laughing, surely half crazed two-legged, any sort of counter attack was futile. The entire situation was beginning to look that way. His hooves scraped and grabbed for the floor, but it seemed little purchase could be found. With the concoction flowing through his veins, his vision blurred and wavered in a way that mimicked the lights above them. Time seemed to drag for those few moments, and he swore he could hear Talbot letting off a horridly long, drawn out snarl at their two-legged foe...

Time caught up, however, when Deimos unleashed his magic once again. Already slowed and dumbfounded by the scientist's drug, the Reaper's push of life-draining magic found him with ease and hit him full force, quite literally knocking him off his feet. His front knees buckled as his waning energy was drained from him, and as his face grew closer and closer to the solid floor, he scrambled hopelessly in a poor attempt to regain his balance and footing. Thanks to the slick tile, all hope was lost and he was sent careening into a stand-alone shelf which, as luck would have it, was free of anything but books. They came tumbling down as he collided into it, knocking him in the head and crashing across his back, spilling across the floor and onto his splayed out cape. Dazed and groggy he was, but otherwise, the Weaver was unharmed.

Seeing that his master was still fighting the effects of what all had been flung at him, and currently unable to recompose himself Talbot kicked himself into gear and once again charged forward, as if reliving the life of a valiant war mount going into battle. His claws clacked against the tile as he ran, golden eyes teeming with rage. He intended to come up at Deimos' left, and only when he was close enough did he leap one last time, acid-laced jaws seeking out the stallion's thick neck. He would not allow the hulking beast of death to take his master today.

[681 words. 3/3 attacks.

Injected by scientist, then seconds later, Deimos' magic. Falls forward and crashes into a shelf of books, where he stays.

Talbot charges forward and leaps one more time, going to Deimos' neck.]

"Talk talk talk"