Hilariously, there are three people in this party that try to hover near the "back" of the group, so the huddle winds up naturally consisting of Jandru and Rohen up front as the good students while Seth, Irahl, and Finn all keep a couple of feet back.
"So, paintball," explains Nikaro, "Since there's an even six of us today, we'll break into two teams. We want to give Irahl here an idea of whether or not he wants to put up with us assholes, so everyone stop pretending to be nice."
This gets a chuckle out of a few people, for a couple of different reasons. It also gets a small giggle from Rohen. Finn glances in Irahl's direction, but everyone else remains focused on Nikaro as they gesture at the contents of the trunk.
"Standard rules. If you're shot, you're out. Any paint splatter smaller than an inch wide doesn't count, direct hits only. And no headshots," they make sure to emphasize, "These things sting bad enough without a concussion, all right?"
"It was one time," Finn mutters under his breath.
"All right, grab what you want," Nikaro says, before stepping fully away from the trunk to let the good kids have first dibs of the treats inside.
There are an impressive number and variety of guns arranged in foam-lined trays all stacked one on top of the other. Aside from some bright stripes on each of their grips to keep them from being accidentally mixed up with the bullet-shooting kind of gun, they look for all intents and purposes like legitimate weapons. There are stacks and stacks of paint capsule boxes in a few different sizes, accessories for storing everything, a crate of apron-like covers to keep your clothes from getting completely ruined by paint...
And why, tucked off to the side there are even what look suspiciously like paint grenades. It turns out that paintball is a popular pastime here in the desert.
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"So, paintball," explains Nikaro, "Since there's an even six of us today, we'll break into two teams. We want to give Irahl here an idea of whether or not he wants to put up with us assholes, so everyone stop pretending to be nice."
This gets a chuckle out of a few people, for a couple of different reasons. It also gets a small giggle from Rohen. Finn glances in Irahl's direction, but everyone else remains focused on Nikaro as they gesture at the contents of the trunk.
"Standard rules. If you're shot, you're out. Any paint splatter smaller than an inch wide doesn't count, direct hits only. And no headshots," they make sure to emphasize, "These things sting bad enough without a concussion, all right?"
"It was one time," Finn mutters under his breath.
"All right, grab what you want," Nikaro says, before stepping fully away from the trunk to let the good kids have first dibs of the treats inside.
There are an impressive number and variety of guns arranged in foam-lined trays all stacked one on top of the other. Aside from some bright stripes on each of their grips to keep them from being accidentally mixed up with the bullet-shooting kind of gun, they look for all intents and purposes like legitimate weapons. There are stacks and stacks of paint capsule boxes in a few different sizes, accessories for storing everything, a crate of apron-like covers to keep your clothes from getting completely ruined by paint...
And why, tucked off to the side there are even what look suspiciously like paint grenades. It turns out that paintball is a popular pastime here in the desert.