Silver Hound, Black Moon

Bad Dog

Lancard stood at the peak of Lothorn's mayoral tower, cradling a near-dead bird in his hands. This was the last carrier crow, the only way the city could communicate with Lethardon. Several hundred years ago, when the cities first grew distant, each were given a few dozen crows, kept alive in an endless sleep for generations. In the event of an emergency, Lothorn could ask for counsel, expecting a response within 24 hours, where the crow would be sent back with a message tied to its leg, then die, the concoction taking its toll. Lancard, against the pleadings of the mayor, used the last crow to ask for advice, there was no protocol for two hunters fighting, and he feared that Lothorn would consume itself if it could not be resolved. He shocked the creature alive and opened the window to let it go, flying off into the darkness. He turned back to the mayor, a gaunt, exhausted woman, who had tried her hardest to stop him from throwing away their last call for help.

"That was it Lancard...We're alone now..."

"I know... I'm sorry," He gazed out the window mirthlessly, his hollowed eyes trailing down the darkened streets, and to the great wall, illuminated only at the very bottom "...I have to go again Dorothy, I've got some questions for Havelock and his dog,"

Good god Lancard was tired. Every time he looked out to the sea of nothingness, his body begged him for rest, the night tricking him into thinking his eyes were closed. Thankfully, the road to Havelock's home was rocky, so with his carriage jostling and bumping, he didn't have the opportunity to fall into blissful unconsciousness. Why did it feel like this night would last forever? It had only been a day, yet he already missed the sun. If the ink refused to recede, Lancard feared that soon, it would devour him. As he approached the fence of Havelock's property, he heard the sound of metal on metal, a hammering, clanging sound, which usually meant he was making something.

Sif and Havelock stood in front of the forge, watching as his special tungsten alloy heated once more. What was previously an ingot, the pair had stretched and curved, beaten and tempered, into the approximate shape of a bow, and now, only the final touches were required. With a set of large, long, pliers, Havelock reached into the fire and pulled out the work in progress, then presented it to Sif as she hammered into it.

"Usually, tungsten is resistant to heat, but my forge uses filth as its main fuel source,"

"So it burns hotter?" Sif assumed, pounding the metal with a hammer far too huge for a normal person

"and the particles infuse with it, creating an even stronger bond,"

"Ooh," Sif looked intrigued, sparing a glance at her hunter whenever she could "I read something in one of your books about those... molecular bonds right?"

"You read fast," he smirked

"You slept in," she smiled back

As Sif stepped back to look at the shape of her bow, she heard the tired footsteps of Lancard, and turned to him cautiously as he approached. There was an accusatory gait to the way he walked, and the halberd in his hand was doing his image no favours.

"I've been to see Caroline... neither of you told me she was a lightning powered corpse," despite what could have almost been a joke, his tone was serious, and his eyes looked tired of playing games.

"What are you here for Lancard?" Havelock began, trying to step past Sif, but she held her hand up to stop him encroaching further

Lancard stopped a few metres away from the two, then planted the back of his weapon into the ground, standing like a monolith all on his own.

"Caroline told me a few things about your dog... I've got some questions..."

"Her name is Sif," Havelock scowled "And she's trying to help,"