Jun 13, 2017
@traitorbred
“What should we do?” Astolfo paces in circles around his hippogriff, its keen eyes watching his every move. For once, his footfalls are devoid of their usual clanking; he was forced to dismiss his armor after the forest’s vines began relentlessly whipping at him. Apparently the plants here are sentient, and they really hate metal... The bruising along his arms and legs are proof of their ire.
“I don’t think my Masters are here... But what if they need me? How can I get to them?!” He raises his arms to his head, his tattered sleeves fluttering with the motion, and clutches at his hair. “Agh, this is awful!”