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Snippet #2684769

located in Ekland Farm, a part of The Spirit Detectives, one of the many universes on RPG.

Ekland Farm

None

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Duncan McAlister Character Portrait: Briella Adair Character Portrait: Leon D'Artagnan Character Portrait: Tom Passano Character Portrait: Cassandra Artemis Character Portrait: Monk Dawa
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Leon had bolted under the table the moment things started flying. The spirits have not touched him yet, though he figures it's only a matter of time. In all of Leon's experiences, he has never experienced spirits so malevolent, so aggressive with the intent to kill. He figures this must be it—that whatever spirit (or spirits, from the sound of it) are tormenting him will be the end of him. He sees and hears a plate shatter a few inches in front of him, and he jumps, hitting his head on the top of the table.

You shouldn't have come. You shouldn't have come. You shouldn't have come. Youshouldn'thavecomeyoushouldn'thavecomeyou—

Hadn't they told him to? Or did they mean the place itself? Leon fiddles with his pockets—he has to have salt packets somewhere. He doesn't care much for salty tastes, as he prefers the sweet, but he's always pocketed the packets since, in his line of work, it might come in handy. He fishes one out and tears the packet open, ready to toss it on whatever spirits were tormenting him when he hears the door come down—and familiar voices follow it. He feels warmth in the previously chilling air—perhaps not literally, but rather because his comrades came to save him.

The younger detective peeks his head out from under the table when Tom calls out to him, eyes uncharacteristically wide, and looking very hopeful. He came to save him. He notices then that... the spirit was so close to his companion, it seems, and it was speaking to him. To Tom. The fox faced detective crawls out from under the table and slowly raises himself from the ground.

You destroyed it. You ruined it.

"I think... it doesn't like that you broke the door! 'You destroyed it. You ruined it.' That's all I can imagine that it means." Leon taps the salt packet and holds it out in front of him, making a salt line on the floor. He keeps two for himself, but the rest of the handful he tosses over to Tom, over the whatever malevolent spirit is between them. He frowns. "Seems kinda hypocritical to me, since they broke all these plates and that nice candle-thingy. You'd think they'd be happy about you breaking the door, huh, Tom?" He looks over to Duncan and nods in greeting, tearing more salt packets and pouring them onto the ground. This should protect the younger for now, as he has no desire to getting closer to that anytime soon. He'd have Tom do the rest of the work, and knowing how the two of them operate, he wouldn't have to say much for the other to catch on.

"Hey, Duncan, how's it look in here? I mean, on the beepy-thing. It probably tipped you off that I was getting into trouble in here, right? Right? That was pretty dumb of me! Thanks for coming to save me, though. Got anymore holy water left?" Leon's rambling is different than usual. It isn't in his usual light-hearted tone—he's terrified. He doesn't let his question hang in the air for much longer before he squeaks out, desperately—

"Please get me outta here!"

Something else comes hurdling toward Leon, and he ducks. So much for the salt square, he thinks, but even that was only a matter of protecting him from physical attacks from the spirits themselves. When he raises himself again, he rips open another salt packet—the last one that he kept before throwing the rest to Tom—and tosses it onto the spirit closest to him. He hears some sort of sizzling noise, and then shrieking too loud for his ears (though it may sound normal to his companions on the other side of the most tangible spirit in the room). Well that's one down—but just how many more are in here?