It's almost homey, hiding out in the wilderness in a little group and having to catch his own food if he wants to eat. Signless is glad that while he did eventually grow used to the Capitol's rich food and regular meals, since the war has started he's had time to get used eating sparingly again. He's even more glad that for once his skills actually come in useful, because while he's not always the best on the battlefield he is one hell of a survivalist.
They fight at night, but during the day he hunts. It's slim pickings out here, mainly predatory animals he doesn't want to tangle with and scrawny critters he has to catch a couple of if he wants to bring back any real meat. Still. Even a little can go a long way. He sits by the fire, knife in hand, preparing the two squirrels he caught earlier. The hides (including the heads) have already been removed and are on a clean patch of ground next to him. Anyone want to help a troll make dinner and maybe get in on some sad, gamey squirrel meat?
B. [The Battlefield]
Fighting conducted mainly at night is where Signless excels. Unlike other trolls he has no special powers, but he does at least have his superior vision. While the humans of the Capitol have to use special goggles to see at night, he can see perfectly clear and with an increased range. You know what's great? Peripheral vision.
That peripheral vision is why he notices movement to his left and turns, trying to use his naturally dark skin and hair to blend into the shadows. Despite the snow on the ground he's opted to stay closer to the tree line than venture into the city. He feels more at home out here than he would among the buildings, and any advantage is one he'll take when so much is stacked against him and the other rebels.
If he's lucky he won't be noticed, but just in case, his hand tightens around the handle of his knife. If he's really lucky he'll be able to bring that handle down on the back of this soldier's head and knock them out, avoiding a confrontation altogether. That's certainly what he's going for. If anything gives him away it's the hard glint in his luminous red and yellow eyes, or perhaps the crunch of the snow beneath his feet.
Signless | OTA | cw: animal death and description of butchering
It's almost homey, hiding out in the wilderness in a little group and having to catch his own food if he wants to eat. Signless is glad that while he did eventually grow used to the Capitol's rich food and regular meals, since the war has started he's had time to get used eating sparingly again. He's even more glad that for once his skills actually come in useful, because while he's not always the best on the battlefield he is one hell of a survivalist.
They fight at night, but during the day he hunts. It's slim pickings out here, mainly predatory animals he doesn't want to tangle with and scrawny critters he has to catch a couple of if he wants to bring back any real meat. Still. Even a little can go a long way. He sits by the fire, knife in hand, preparing the two squirrels he caught earlier. The hides (including the heads) have already been removed and are on a clean patch of ground next to him. Anyone want to help a troll make dinner and maybe get in on some sad, gamey squirrel meat?
B. [The Battlefield]
Fighting conducted mainly at night is where Signless excels. Unlike other trolls he has no special powers, but he does at least have his superior vision. While the humans of the Capitol have to use special goggles to see at night, he can see perfectly clear and with an increased range. You know what's great? Peripheral vision.
That peripheral vision is why he notices movement to his left and turns, trying to use his naturally dark skin and hair to blend into the shadows. Despite the snow on the ground he's opted to stay closer to the tree line than venture into the city. He feels more at home out here than he would among the buildings, and any advantage is one he'll take when so much is stacked against him and the other rebels.
If he's lucky he won't be noticed, but just in case, his hand tightens around the handle of his knife. If he's really lucky he'll be able to bring that handle down on the back of this soldier's head and knock them out, avoiding a confrontation altogether. That's certainly what he's going for. If anything gives him away it's the hard glint in his luminous red and yellow eyes, or perhaps the crunch of the snow beneath his feet.