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damned_institute2008-10-28 06:00 pm
spirit-forge.livejournal.com) wrote in damned_institute2008-10-28 06:00 pm
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Nightshift 36: Activities Shed
[from here]
The lock wasn't really a problem. A few good kicks did the job. As Archer stepped inside, he used his flashlight to look around, since he didn't want anything getting the drop on him.
Picking up a pair of aluminum bats he took a few swings to test them out. They were fine. He reached into his soul, calling upon that familiar trickle of mana, sending it down his magic circuits and into his bat. The image of a sword formed in his mind as the bat glowed brightly for a few moments before dying down. In its place was a brand new sword.
Satisfied, Archer left the shed behind.
[to here]
The lock wasn't really a problem. A few good kicks did the job. As Archer stepped inside, he used his flashlight to look around, since he didn't want anything getting the drop on him.
Picking up a pair of aluminum bats he took a few swings to test them out. They were fine. He reached into his soul, calling upon that familiar trickle of mana, sending it down his magic circuits and into his bat. The image of a sword formed in his mind as the bat glowed brightly for a few moments before dying down. In its place was a brand new sword.
Satisfied, Archer left the shed behind.
[to here]
no subject
Cheery place. It hadn't been that windy outside but you wouldn't know it being inside this shack - it creaked and moaned, the wood rattling softly as Dean took a step inside and then another, shining his flash light this way and that. Spirit? He stood still, just inside the door, holding his breath unconsciously and waiting in case a spirit did try to bum-rush him, and annoyed because if it did, he'd have to book it the opposite direction since he had jack in the way of weapons. Nothing came so far. If there was a spirit, it seemed content to just dick around with the shed and ignore him - he just hoped the roof wouldn't cave on him when he was still inside the damn place.
Dean checked out the contents of the shack. Appeared to be some kind of shed for equipment for the soccer field, his flashlight falling on old, faded jerseys, helmets, pads and bats. The hunter reached down and hefted one of the aluminium bats. Might be good against his fellow human, but against his usual friends, Dean was pretty sure he'd just annoy them before they tried to tear him to shreds. At best, it could distract whatever came gunning for him long enough for him to get some distance between him and anything that went bump in the night.
What he needed was a long laundry list of "I wish": wish I had a damn knife, wish I had some silver, wish I had some iron or salt or something, hell, I wish I knew where the hell I even am! But Dean learned you didn't get anything by wishing. If you needed something, you went out and took it, you didn't sit around hoping it'd fall into your lap. It sucked, being busted to ground zero with no weapons and no clue about this joint, but he'd deal.
He had to.
no subject