Seven Devils Logs

"SOMETHING WICKED THIS WAY COMES."

January 2021

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Posts Tagged: 'joanna+buckley'

Sep. 23rd, 2020


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Log: Jo & Christian


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Jo Buckley + Christian Lambert
An unexpected reunion
September 23rd | The Lookout | PG (Some Language)
Read more... )

Sep. 11th, 2020


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THE SHADOW'S DISGUISE | CZERNABOG PLOT


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Jo Buckley + Open
Lockdown at The Lookout
SEP 11TH | THE LOOKOUT | MIN PG13
WARNING: LANGUAGE & VIOLENCE LIKELY
Read more... )
If you're going to bunker down anywhere during a supernatural disaster, a Hunter bar is a pretty good place to start. Especially if you're a barely in the know, human. For Jo, it was hardly what you'd call an informed decision, her bike currently sitting in the dirt lot with a punctured tire. Wild Boar, at least, that was the reasoning her mind was comfortably sticking with to keep from spinning out of control. About the only thing a boar and that beast she'd encountered had in common, was tusks that could rip you apart. Now wasn't really the time to deep dive into her father's world, however. She was just working on living through it.

The inside of the Lookout resembled the headquarters of doomsday preppers returning from an NRA convention. Guns and ammo stacked along the bar in numbers that made an argument for why there should be gun control. A group of regulars had staked out one end of The Lookout, maps laid out on a pool table as they all stood around and bickered among themselves. The guys who usually drank their weight in beer or whiskey, opting for coffee on a day when even Jo had poured herself a drink or three.

She wasn't the only one drinking, however, as evidenced by the small huddles tucked into the other corner of the bar. People who didn't look like they'd ever graced this place with their presence until now. The low hum of classic rock drifted through the room, offering them a distraction from the sounds outside. The greener ones jumping every time a wolf howled in the distance, or something crashed into the collection of trash cans outside.

An inordinate amount of first aid supplies were spread out across the shelf behind the bar. Jo taking stock of anything that might be useful, more as a means to keep herself from overthinking what the hell was going on out there. In her experience? Bars carried a first aid kit large enough to fit in your car but this place? You'd think it had been used as a field hospital during a biker war with the amount of stuff they had on hand.

"We're going to need to do a supply run." Jo's voice sliced through the chatter in the room, blank faces all staring back at her. The regulars might now how to put together a hunting party, but they clearly didn't know shit about survival.

"Unless everyone here wants to live on beer and peanuts till all this blows over." There weren't a lot of people here but their numbers had grown in the last 24 hours. At this rate, even their peanut supply was going to run out sooner rather than later.



Open for supply run shenanigans, somebody coming in (injured or otherwise) to cut that conversation short or whatever strikes your fancy. Jo will be hunkering down here for the duration of the event so if you'd rather come in on a different day, just note it in the subject line.

Mar. 25th, 2020


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