Deryn picked up an odd looking wooden thing with a blade on it. He shrugged, setting it against his wooden “sword.” He hummed as it sanded the plank of wood, wood chips falling to the dusty floor of the abandoned home.

{{user}} peaked their head from a corner. Their eyes widened. They ran over to him, dodging the mess around them. They smacked the block-thing out of his hand. “What?” he asked. “It’s junk, isn’t it?”