fandomhighdorms | Saturday evening, just outside the school grounds

Entry tags:

Saturday evening, just outside the school grounds

There really was something irresistable to the trolls about the giant castle thing at the top of the hill.

I mean, come on! Trolls, castle . . . it was like a match made in heaven!

So, once they'd made lots of good headway pillaging and rampaging through the town, the trolls started on their way up the hill, aimed for the gates to the school, grinning and slathering and singing creepy, troll-y songs of glee.

[ooc: ~~minor ocd going up~~ Game on!]

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

"Hello there, ugly," Anders muttered under his breath. He twisted to dodge out of the way of the thrown rock, but lost his balance and nearly fell in the process.

Fnrtl actually laughed at that. Then he lunged forward at Anders.

[ooc: with the right bloody ICON this time. . . .]

Anders had no idea whose assault rifle this was, but he brought it up and fired off a few rounds at what he hoped were the troll's kneecaps. Man, was he ever glad he'd gotten in so much practice at taking off-balance shots on the Pyramid goal from weird-ass angles. Granted, this wasn't quite the same, but it was close enough.

The troll, alas, had no such practice. It flailed about as it fell, its arms pinwheeling at Anders, hoping to at least get to hit the guy. . . .

"Score one for the C-Bucs!" Anders whooped, scrambling backwards and getting his balance back again. With the troll down, it was a lot easier to get a good shot in, and after a few moments' hesitation he aimed for the head this time.

The troll turned into a pile of stone.

Huh.

Alas, Fnrtl's twin brother, Grthbt, did not like this development and started throwing more rocks at Anders.

"Hey!" yelled Anders as he twisted and turned and tried to find a tree for cover. "That is so not regulation dodgeball equipment!"

Annoyed, he brought the gun up again as soon as he thought he had a good look -- it was around the troll's solar plexus, rather than the head, but he couldn't be that picky when he had rocks flying at him for frak's sake -- and squeezed the trigger.

Grthbt was a touch more intelligent than Fnrtl . . . which put him just above cheese mold on the intelligence scale, but it did mean that he kept moving and managed to not get hit. He kept throwing rocks.

Quite frankly? That kind of pissed Anders off. Enough that he picked up a rock of his own and hurled it back at Grthbt.

And yes, he was dork enough that anyone close by could have heard him muttering to himself, "Anders shakes off the sign from the catcher . . . goes into the windup . . . here comes the pitch!" just before he let it fly.

The rock hit Grthbt in the nose.

That just made him angrier. He roared again and pulled out a club, which he swung straight down at Anders.

Anders dove to the side and rolled out of the way.

Or rather, rolled toward Grthbt.

Er. Oops.

How did a kneecap shot at close range feel for a troll, anyway?

Like it sucked, of course. Grthbt fell forward, still roaring.

Anders somehow -- he'd never be sure quite how afterward -- squirmed out of the way. Just barely, and certainly not enough to avoid the whiff of troll reek.

He pulled the trigger again, aiming for Grthbt's side this time, and -- nothing. Out of ammo. Crap.

The troll started to laugh, and grabbed for more rocks to throw.

Luckily, Anders had grabbed the Walther PPK he'd been using lately from the weapons locker as well. Even more luckily, he remembered he had it. (No, he didn't remember which pocket he'd stowed the extra rifle ammo in at the moment.)

There was just that matter of not remembering, in the current situation, how to disengage the safety.

He settled for trying to bash the troll over the head with the butt of the assault rifle, instead.

This didn't make the troll very happy, so it grabbed for the rifle.

"Like hell you do!" yelled Anders, kicking out at the troll's head. "This isn't even mine!"

"Give. Me. Hurty!" The troll ignored the boot to the head and kept yanking on the rifle.

Anders tried stomping on his wrist instead, all the while still fumbling with the safety on the PPK.

The troll ignored that, too, except for a growl, and yanked harder.

"Let. The frak. Go!" snapped Anders.

Oh look, there went the safety on the PPK. He gave the troll's wrist another stomp for good measure, aimed with the handgun, and fired.

And that would be a rockified and crumbly troll.

"Hell with this," Anders muttered. "I'm getting my Glider."

Of course, as he headed off with that in mind, he ended up running into Bel instead (http://community.livejournal.com/fandomhighdorms/900029.html?thread=69761981#t69761981).

Were Anders to look up at that moment, he might notice a fifteen year old spy flailing about as she was sent hurtling through the air by one of the other trolls.

That would hurt, when she landed. . . .

Anders had juuuuuuuuuuust enough time as she flew by to yell, "Hi, Nadia! Try to tuck and roll when you hit!"

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Saturday evening, just outside the school grounds

Re: At the gates

Re: At the gates

Re: At the gates

Re: At the gates

Re: At the gates

Re: At the gates

Re: At the gates

Re: At the gates

Re: At the gates

Re: At the gates

Re: At the gates

Re: At the gates

Re: At the gates

Re: At the gates

Re: At the gates

Re: At the gates

Re: At the gates

Re: At the gates

Re: At the gates

Re: At the gates

Re: At the gates

Re: At the gates

Re: At the gates

Re: At the gates

Re: At the gates