Archibald entered the chamber and took a long indignant look around, This trip into the dungeons had been fruitless and now he found himself in some kind of dusty musty hovel. Archibald had found a strange, weirdly affectionate floating eyeball in a gutted treasure room a while back and he watched as the thing flew from his side and up to the top of a nearby wall. Archibald lifted his head to look up at what seemed to be a horse's skull, wreathed in old long dead vines, strings of sparkling jewels, and evergreen branches.

     The heraldic squinted at the skull when his eyes caught sight of a glint of metal in the skull's mouth. His eyes finally realized the vines around the horse's muzzle were fine leather strips, which had rotted from time and humidity. Archibald nodded and listed his nose a little further. Clearly this was a courser who was so strong he needed steel in his mouth to contain his desire to bite. Archibald had heard of such horses. What an inspirational hero. Humming happily, and with his new pet trailing behind, Archibald trotted through a nearby crumbling doorway to continue exploring, his energy replenished by thoughts of an equine warrior who had been wreathed in finery and worshipped as a hero.