Watching as the soldier collapsed to the floor, clutching at his wound, Archibald narrowed his eye. 'Good...Strike back against those who have wronged you...make them suffer...' whispered a voice in his head, causing him to gasp in pain as he clutched at the right side of his face. "Now...is not the time!" he forced through gritted teeth as his hand clenched the bow hard, the other pressing down on his hair over the eye he had screwed shut. Shaking his head, his hair parted momentarily, revealing a flash of white. Whether it be a mask or talisman, no-one except him knew. And he intended to keep it that way. Suppressing his inner demons as he leaned against a wall, Archibald grabbed another arrow from his quiver and nocked it onto the string.  Taking a step forward as he brought the bow up, he narrowed his eye again.

Focussing in front of him, sounds became duller as he ignored his environment, steadying his aim. His arm shook and he was visibly sweating. 'Spill their blood...' whispered the voice again, almost lovingly, 'an eye...for an eye...' Gritting his teeth again, his vision swam in and out of focus. The wyvern in front of him struggled as the axe-wielder jumped in, making a clear shot hard. The red and dirty white fletching of his arrow whistled faintly in a passing breeze as a scream was cut short. The wyvern darted in front of him again as his eye narrowed further. 'Take the shot...I care not where the blood spills from...' With each passing second, the voice grew more malevolent. The old wood of his bow creaked as he tugged the string tighter, resting it against his thumb against his cheek. The wyvern darted past again. With a thundrous crash, the fighter was struck with lighting, but that was not all. Startled, Archibald released the arrow, his eye widened as it flexed against the air pressure before soaring straight and true.