fandomhigh | Fandom High Graduation Ceremony, Class of 2011, Saturday Early Evening PART 2!

Once all the graduates had returned to their seats, with their diplomas, Zoe turned to address the audience.

“Ladies and Gentlemen, may I present --- ee da tuo da bien!”

No one should translate that. Just know that it wasn’t Chinese for ‘funky looking red and green spacecraft twice the size of the school that just zoomed in to hover above the lawn.’

A beam of eerie green light shining down from it, straight onto the stage, and from that pool of light stepped... no, surged, a horde of men in hairy, horny helmets, waving battle axes and growling in ...something Nordic? Eric could tell you, if he could make it to the stage, but unfortunately ? Not so much.

Those other beams of light that shot from the ship took care of that issue. Both the audience bleachers and the area of the stage roped off for the faculty were enclosed by shimmering fields of energy that let air and light through, but were frustratingly solid to the touch.

Sadly for the graduates, there was no annoying force-field separating them from the hairy-hatted men -- who were headed straight for the Fandom High Class of 2011.

[Open for your umlaut-ridden pleasure! Audience | Grads: Fight! | Grads: Hide! | Aftermath | OOC]

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Oh, Gunssar would bring it. Gunssar would bring it so hard that Jono's AU grandchildren would consider it brought.

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!

//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.

...What there was of Jono's face.

//... Bollocks.//

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?

It... It... That...

"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!

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.

Edited 2011-04-30 19:57 (UTC)

Jono raised an eyebrow, giving Gunssar's foot a good, solid nudge with his boot to make certain that he wasn't going anywhere anytime soon.

...

//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.

Fandom High Graduation Ceremony, Class of 2011, Saturday Early Evening PART 2!

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