Date: 2009-10-30 01:52 am (UTC)
The dead hound reaches it first and goes crashing down on top of the weapon. Den is on his feet now. The cobweb shimmer twists in his eyes. "If you think you can move three hundred pounds of spike-riddled dead weight," he whispers. "Please, be my guest."

The other corpse is back on its feet again. "Or you could attempt civility. Either one."
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Julian Sark

May 2018

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