Graduates: Seriously, Vikings From Space?prof_of_cunningApril 30 2011, 17:02:08 UTC
Seriously, Vikings from space. Or at least that’s where they seemed to have come from most recently, because, you know. Big honking spaceship over your heads. The dudes themselves, though, were wearing decidedly low-tech furs, cloaks, and hats, and that battle gear they were swinging didn’t come with safety catches or charging ports, just big, shiny blades.
Big, shiny blades headed right for the grads.
Zoe might not be able to move past the glowing force field that separated the administrators from the students, but she could still shout orders like a pro. She hadn't even bothered to hope that graduation would go off without a hitch - statistically speaking, it was a ridiculous thought - so she was glad they'd prepared for defensive action, even if she hated what she was about to do.
"Everyone!" she yelled to the graduates. "There are weapons in the trunk behind the podium! Take whatever you need and know how to use!" Sure, some of the students who had been here for a while had probably come prepared, but there might have been a few graduates who'd shown up blissfully unaware. Maybe they'd hide, and she wouldn't have to worry about them, but Zoe knew better than to hope for that too.
"Don't kill these...people if you can avoid it," she added quickly, since behind the hair and the horny helmets, they did appear to be people. Zoe had reached the point of acceptance when it came to students defending themselves, but she still had some lines she didn't want to be crossed. "But do what you have to to get safe!"
Really, anyone who messed with her students deserved to get a good beating.
That weapons cabinet wasn’t locked, and the selection ranged from blunt and sharp objects of the bashy and stabby kind, to handheld energy guns of the yes, there’s a stun setting kind. There was also a crapload of rope; you never knew when you might need to lasso a chimera or two.
[Grads who are capable of it/wish to, ping in with your reactions and weapon-grabbing, and your personal Viking will be with you shortly! It’s your call on whether your character is fighting to kill or not, but they are human, with a bit of a language barrier, so keep your own preferences in mind for how much casualty-angst you want your kid to deal with. Knocking them out or tying them up is totally an option.]
//... I can honestly say that I didn't actually see th'space vikings coming,// Jono noted, his eyes glowing bright white as he yanked off the gown and mortarboard.
Vikings attack? Lose the stupid getup. Nobody should be surprised that he was wearing his usual leather underneath it all.
//Bring it on, mates. This is a good warmup for whatever they can throw at me back in Massachusetts.//
//You can't be serious...// It was fortunate that Jono couldn't speak Viking. He'd kick Gunssar's arse extra hard just for rubbing it in.
In any case, the moment the spacecraft and the vikings had come into play, Jonothon figured that it more or less open season on things that might terrify the more normal of the guests. The next thing he tore off were his wrappings, letting bright orange flame billow out around himself.
... Of course, he was still a bit of a wispy wee lad, so he was also going to throw himself in the opposite direction with nothing resembling grace, because not much could ruin your day like being run over by a screaming Scandinavian man in a loincloth.
It was fortunate that Gunssar couldn't speak English... mostly because it meant the voice that had appeared in his head was chattering nonsense at him, instead of what he'd probably assume were messages from the gods, if it made sense.
The fire though... that was impressive. Enough to make him hold back for a moment once he'd spun to face the boy again. Only a moment, though, before he made a rush to come in from the side, away from the flaming chest.
Jono wasn't about to make it that easy for his new playmate, here. He spun on his own heel as he regained his bearings, trying to get as much of his flame facing the Viking as was absolutely possible.
This was probably helped out some by the two gouts of flame that twisted forth from Jono's chest, twining around himself to keep those sides of his covered. A third, meanwhile, was lashing forward, aiming for Gunssar's sword.
And, fortunately for Gunssar, and with thanks to Zoe for insisting that they go for non-lethal, Jono was putting forth a fair bit more effort today into making certain that his flames weren't actually hot, only concussive.
"Skepna í Lokke," Gunssar growled, half impressed, half enraged as his sword flew from his hands. Creature of Loki. He dived for it, catching it by the hilt just before it clattered to the ground, his gaze momentarily off the boy.
No, no Gunssar. Loki existed in a totally different corner of the Marvel universe.
//Shouldn't look down, mate.//
Jonothon was a skinny thing, sure, but that wasn't going to stop him from doing something bold. And extremely stupid. That, at least, was universal no matter where in 616 you were from. Jono leaned forward in a crouch, and then ran forward, aiming to barrel into the Viking shoulder-first.
He wouldn't admit in a million years that it was an idea he'd picked up from American Football. He still had his pride, thank you.
Old Norse didn't really have an exact phrase for "...Heh. That's cute," but Gunssar came up with something that would approximate it. The attack did catch him off guard, but he still had about a hundred and fifty pounds on the flaming boy, so it only knocked him back.
The sword came up again, this time swinging for Jono's face.
Why was non-lethal so much more difficult than simply crispy-frying the people who were trying to kill him? Bloody hell, that wasn't even fair. Er. Not that Jono ever suspected that life was fair. In this case, it was managing an 'at least I'm not dead' as Jono jerked backward, the end of the blade grazing through the fire where his lower jaw had once been.
The next gout of flame that Jono sent outward was hot.
It was also rather puny. But it was aimed for Gunssar's golden locks. It balanced out some, right?
Which meant that Jono was more or less obligated to uppercut Gunssar right in the jaw. He did realize that, right? Because the little hairs on the back of Jono's neck were still prickling, knowing how close that sword had come from claiming the rest of his head, and he was in a bit of a mood, now.
He didn't have any special degree of physical strength, but damn it, punching the Viking was kind of therapeutic.
Erik got "the Swift." Baleog got "the Fierce." Even Olaf got "the Stout" which was better than nothing. What did Gunssar get? Gunssar the Glass-Jawed.
Thanks, Viking equivalent of elementary school, for letting that get started. Thanks, Gunssar's skull, for letting it stick.
The punch, even from a kid that size, had an already dizzy Gunssar swaying on his feet. He waved his sword arm wildly, but more for balance than with any chance to connect. It didn't help, either way; he was soon flat on his sitjandi on the stage.
Big, shiny blades headed right for the grads.
Zoe might not be able to move past the glowing force field that separated the administrators from the students, but she could still shout orders like a pro. She hadn't even bothered to hope that graduation would go off without a hitch - statistically speaking, it was a ridiculous thought - so she was glad they'd prepared for defensive action, even if she hated what she was about to do.
"Everyone!" she yelled to the graduates. "There are weapons in the trunk behind the podium! Take whatever you need and know how to use!" Sure, some of the students who had been here for a while had probably come prepared, but there might have been a few graduates who'd shown up blissfully unaware. Maybe they'd hide, and she wouldn't have to worry about them, but Zoe knew better than to hope for that too.
"Don't kill these...people if you can avoid it," she added quickly, since behind the hair and the horny helmets, they did appear to be people. Zoe had reached the point of acceptance when it came to students defending themselves, but she still had some lines she didn't want to be crossed. "But do what you have to to get safe!"
Really, anyone who messed with her students deserved to get a good beating.
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[Grads who are capable of it/wish to, ping in with your reactions and weapon-grabbing, and your personal Viking will be with you shortly! It’s your call on whether your character is fighting to kill or not, but they are human, with a bit of a language barrier, so keep your own preferences in mind for how much casualty-angst you want your kid to deal with. Knocking them out or tying them up is totally an option.]
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Vikings attack? Lose the stupid getup. Nobody should be surprised that he was wearing his usual leather underneath it all.
//Bring it on, mates. This is a good warmup for whatever they can throw at me back in Massachusetts.//
Reply
Raising his sword, he plowed towards the wispy wee lad in leather, shouting, "Hyeudeh sheunde hyeeeunde heeeeiiiii!" Or something like that.
Which was Viking for Ravage, pillage, maim, plunder, and put big hickeys on all the fair damsels!
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In any case, the moment the spacecraft and the vikings had come into play, Jonothon figured that it more or less open season on things that might terrify the more normal of the guests. The next thing he tore off were his wrappings, letting bright orange flame billow out around himself.
... Of course, he was still a bit of a wispy wee lad, so he was also going to throw himself in the opposite direction with nothing resembling grace, because not much could ruin your day like being run over by a screaming Scandinavian man in a loincloth.
Reply
The fire though... that was impressive. Enough to make him hold back for a moment once he'd spun to face the boy again. Only a moment, though, before he made a rush to come in from the side, away from the flaming chest.
Reply
This was probably helped out some by the two gouts of flame that twisted forth from Jono's chest, twining around himself to keep those sides of his covered. A third, meanwhile, was lashing forward, aiming for Gunssar's sword.
And, fortunately for Gunssar, and with thanks to Zoe for insisting that they go for non-lethal, Jono was putting forth a fair bit more effort today into making certain that his flames weren't actually hot, only concussive.
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//Shouldn't look down, mate.//
Jonothon was a skinny thing, sure, but that wasn't going to stop him from doing something bold. And extremely stupid. That, at least, was universal no matter where in 616 you were from. Jono leaned forward in a crouch, and then ran forward, aiming to barrel into the Viking shoulder-first.
He wouldn't admit in a million years that it was an idea he'd picked up from American Football. He still had his pride, thank you.
Reply
The sword came up again, this time swinging for Jono's face.
...What there was of Jono's face.
Reply
Why was non-lethal so much more difficult than simply crispy-frying the people who were trying to kill him? Bloody hell, that wasn't even fair. Er. Not that Jono ever suspected that life was fair. In this case, it was managing an 'at least I'm not dead' as Jono jerked backward, the end of the blade grazing through the fire where his lower jaw had once been.
The next gout of flame that Jono sent outward was hot.
It was also rather puny. But it was aimed for Gunssar's golden locks. It balanced out some, right?
Reply
"Þú ... þú skot hárinu mínu!" *
Taking time out for dramatic roars? Not one of Gunssar's smartest moves. Gunssar? Not one of Erik's swiftest Vikings.
After that, he was busy trying to slap out the flames.
With his sword still in his hand.
Pardon Gunssar while he bonks himself on the head with his own pommel and stands there, smoking and dazed.
*You shot my HAIR!
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He didn't have any special degree of physical strength, but damn it, punching the Viking was kind of therapeutic.
Reply
Thanks, Viking equivalent of elementary school, for letting that get started. Thanks, Gunssar's skull, for letting it stick.
The punch, even from a kid that size, had an already dizzy Gunssar swaying on his feet. He waved his sword arm wildly, but more for balance than with any chance to connect. It didn't help, either way; he was soon flat on his sitjandi on the stage.
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...
//Plonker.//
And then he shook his head, and looked around to see if anybody else was going to need a hand. Or somebody to light their Viking's hair on fire.
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She used a knife to cut a slit up the side of her gown, then tucked into the combat boots she was wearing underneath.
Then, sword in one hand, and gun in the other, she turned towards the oncoming horde.
"Now this is a final exam!" She was about to show off what her friends had taught her.
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