Turgon's Quest, chapter three

Turgon sat on a log just outside the ring of firelight. He had a foreboding that something was about to happen, something bad. His senses had never failed him before, which was why he was prepared for the worst, his carbine slung on his back, sidearm loaded and waiting, three frag grenades and two HE grenades clipped to his jacket, sharpening his sword. He watched in disgust as the troops became drunken slobs, all rules of courtesy and manners forgotten. Suddenly a sinister crackling broke through the mayhem as a thirty foot tongue of flame engulfed three troopers near the edge of camp. Turgon was up and running in an instant as the drunken soldiers fell. From the glare of the flame-throwers he could make out their operator’s: three massive, slobbering trolls. the 2000 lb tanks strapped to their backs contained enough fuel to obliterate the entire camp. Turgon took a quick look around and summed up the situation in one word: “Crap!” most of the soldiers were running away, screaming drunkenly. This was looking bad. The squad under Turgon’s command was mostly on the other side of camp, and by the time he could reach them and get them over here, the flames would have reached the ammo depot. He leveled his rifle and fired into the nearest troll’s neck. The flattened slugs fell from it’s neck like dead flies as it turned it’s glare on Turgon. He took off running as the tent behind him burst into flames. In fact, the troll was so obsessed with torching him that he didn’t notice the frag grenade on the ground at his feet. The explosion shook the ground and blew Turgon into the air as the tank on the troll’s back was penetrated with hot shrapnel. The troll never knew what hit it. Unfortunately, the blast also separated his grenades from his jacket, due to the sudden stop caused by a large elm. Turgon leapt to his feet just in time to dodge a flying log, the trolls opting for the most destructive type of killing possible. Turgon spun left to avoid a large rock, rebounded off a tree, and sprinted towards the trolls, sword in hand. The nearest troll saw what was coming and swung a tree towards him. Turgon flipped over it and neatly severed four of the troll’s seven fingers. It let out a roar and dropped the tree trunk, grabbing for this pesky little human. Turgon was already past him, slicing up the next one’s arm and hamstringing it with a backhand cut. He rolled and came up shooting, his sidearm blazing, several bullets severing the line between the farthest troll’s tank and flame thrower. The volatile liquid soaked the troll as it stumbled into the fire, blinded. Thirty seconds later it was a smoldering heap. The other troll unslung it’s flame thrower, but never had a chance. Turgon’s sword spun across the clearing in the blink of an eye, it’s blood stained blade entering below the chin, penetrating brain, skull, and scalp.