Archer did not go with grace and dignity, when his time to dance with a Wallmaster came. He had been putting his whole into firing back volleys against the Poe in the room with him, on the assumption that the less magically inclined of them would be fighting off those mortifying spider-hands – but when he felt the strength of one sealing itself about him, he realised how silly that assumption had been. And had he been anyone else, he didn’t doubt the fear would have winded him. 

But he was Archer Anders, the biggest drama queen Castle Town ever chewed up and spat out: and he made sure everybody knew it.
In those few instants before his abductor finished wrapping its clammy digits around his mouth, Archer bellowed: "[color=FF5733]Magus, this is [i]your[/i] fault, you useless, cucco chasin’ son of a- [i]mmf! Mrnf![/i][/color]”, before being wrenched suddenly and brutally upwards and into the ceiling. 
And the entire way he squirmed, kicked, and yelled into the cold, dead skin of his attacker. He tried to twist his way out of its powerful grip, to no avail, and then tried to strike a fire right there in its palm, instead, but couldn’t draw the breath. In fact, he couldn’t draw [i]any[/i] breath. And what little energy he had, he squandered on fruitless attempts at escape.
Until, bordering on unconsciousness, he heard his brother’s words, tone-neutral and so characteristically condescending: [i]“[color=267FD3]Be like water.[/color]”[/i]
Archer let his body fall limp.

[i]Flump. Bang![/i]
He felt himself drop like a sack of lumpy potatoes- surprisingly handsome potatoes, but potatoes with wounded pride- as he went crashing into the strange, soft floor of the Sheikah temple. The ground gave nicely, actually, but as he stared up, bleary-eyed at the ceiling, he realised he felt somebody’s elbow jammed into his lower-back. 
Startled, Archer leapt back to his feet – then stumbled awkwardly a few steps forwards, before twisting around and igniting some frankly pitiful fires about his quivering fists. He would need to regain control of his breathing before he could conjure anything decent again, but he couldn’t bring himself to stop panting. Still, the charade went on: "[color=FF5733]Haah… back for round two, are you? This time I’ll show you how… haaah… an Anders… ah, Goddesses, you’re one’a us, aren’t you?[/color]”

Archer felt the fight leave him all at once, and he slumped back against the wall behind himself, eyeing the bars across the way. Muscles burning, an awful cloying in his mouth.
He was quiet for a moment, maybe the longest he’d been quiet in his natural born life, and then once he’d caught his breath, he gestured to the wall of bars between the pair of them and freedom.
"[color=FF5733]So, uh. I'm Archer. What’re you in for?[/color]”