Entry tags:
Room 507, Thursday Morning
Underneath Ronan's bed, locked behind three layers of shielding, in a box designed for the express purpose of keeping it hidden away, were the shards of a sword. Not all of them -- some had been lost in the very process that shattered it. Still, it was a special sword for all of that.
( It was hard not to be special when you'd been used to cut a doorway between worlds. )
Ronan bowed his head, smiling. It had worked.
[Establishy! Thanks to the lifted weapons ban, Ronan will have the sword with him -- scabbarded on his back -- wherever he goes, and his healing knife, sheathed, on his belt.]
( It was hard not to be special when you'd been used to cut a doorway between worlds. )
Ronan bowed his head, smiling. It had worked.
[Establishy! Thanks to the lifted weapons ban, Ronan will have the sword with him -- scabbarded on his back -- wherever he goes, and his healing knife, sheathed, on his belt.]