He had it coming.

Two nights ago, I punched a gnoll in the dick.

Wait – let me explain. No, it wasn’t a real gnoll – it was a Legacy LARP staff member dressed up as one. And no, I didn’t do it on purpose. But it still happened.

This is going to take a little bit of exposition here. The incident, as it were, occurred at around 2:45 AM on Sunday morning. Legacy’s August event was winding down, and a good number of people had already gone to bed – it had been a great weekend, and even though Legacy had been down four staff members for nearly the entire time, you would never have known it – but there were a few of us still up and in character.

Ah, my old enemy: stairs.

Not pictured: my fat ass on top of the deck.

I was stationed at the top of the stairs that led to the inn, as it offered an excellent vantage point of the main direction from which trouble usually came – the forest. My character is literally a night watchman, so I typically stay up pretty late into the night whenever we go away to Legacy; most events will peter out at around 3 AM, considering the staff are just as exhausted as the players at that point and need some sleep, so I had stowed my gear in the sleeping area that adjoined the inn’s common room. Wouldn’t you know it but I see some trouble a-brewin’ in the form of three big, angry looking, shadowy nightmare soldiers melt out of the darkness and start up the steps with murderous intent, so I naturally begin shouting and make a dash for my sword and shield.

At this point, I was feeling pretty relaxed. There were only three of them, after all, and while I didn’t know what exactly they were yet or why they were showing up all of a sudden, I knew that we’d probably be able to repel them, since there was still a good number of people still up. Even as I jogged through the common room of the inn, people were standing up from tables and benches, grabbing their gear and moving into the open doorway to block the attack, so I figured I could just duck into the bunk room just on the other side of the wall, grab my gear, and have enough time to get myself situated before the fun begins.

Get me my brown pants!

Not pictured: asshole Legacy staff members lying in wait.

What I didn’t know is that Sean and Ford, two Legacy staff members, were lying in wait for the first asshole to come through the door into the sleeping area. I step into the room, cut left to duck into the alcove where my stuff is, and nearly shit myself because suddenly there’s Sean in my face in shadowy nightmare gnoll makeup, cackling and brandishing a pair of swords at me.

I’m literally six inches from him once I realize what’s going on. My mouth drops open, and instead of bellowing “Ambush!” and backpedaling, I give out what can only be categorized as the kind of shrill shriek only a cheerleader could deliver from the backseat of a Volkswagen and nearly tackle Sean. Acting purely on instinct, I grab both his weapons – by the blades, mind you – and start bashing him in the face and chest with them, while he’s still holding them. Sean’s face crumpled from the mischievous, sadistic grin of a gnoll to a perplexed, slightly terrified man as I’m doing this; his eyes went wide as I continued to abuse him with his own weapons.

This might have continued indefinitely if Ford – also playing a gnoll – had not also been lying in wait from the other side of the door. Perhaps recovering from my sudden entrance and inexplicable assault on Sean, Ford leapt forward and began raining blows down on my exposed back.

At this point, somewhere deep in my lizard brain, there was a spinning slot machine slowly coming to a stop. On some primal level I realized that I was completely fucked; my gear was behind one giant gnoll, which maybe I could have confused long enough with my antics to grab either my sword or at least my shield, but after the realization formed that I was boxed in by Sean in front and Ford from behind, I knew I had to get the hell out of there.

Ford's crotch = the computer monitor

A rough approximation of my behavior.

This next part is going off what I’ve been told by people who were there. I don’t actually remember anything about the next two seconds, as the next thing I knew I was on the floor back in the common room, crawling for a spare sword someone had stashed there. I only found out after the fight was done what had transpired: after Ford started wailing on me, I cocked my left hand, spun around, punched my friend at full force and squarely in the dick, and then executed a combat dive back into the common room.

After learning from Sean and Ford what happened on my way out of the sleeping area, I actually pulled a muscle in my abdomen from laughing so hard. Yes, I felt horrible for cock-punching a man for no good reason whatsoever, but the irony here is I had predicted a nut-shot involving Ford and me back in April, only with me being the one on the receiving end instead of being the perpetrator of the heinous act.


Forward, down, down-forward + Punch.

The absurdity of the scene has apparently become legend already. Every time that either Sean or Ford told the story later that morning and into yesterday afternoon, it became more embellished: instead of me giving off a shit-scared little girly shriek and then batting at Sean like a frightened kitten before bumbling into Ford’s junk on the way back into the common room, I howled like a cornered animal, tried to rip Sean’s weapons from his hands in order to physically beat him to death, only turn and (depending on the telling) either Shoryuken or Falcon Punch Ford directly in the dong before diving through the doorway into the common room in slow motion while explosions went off around me like I was in a Michael Bay movie.

Let this be a lesson to you: don’t sneak up on me at nearly 3 in the morning if you don’t want to get cock-punched.


21 thoughts on “He had it coming.

  1. Your story is actually a great metaphor for life.

    Your just there hanging out. When some shadowy evil appears and blocks you from getting to your only means of survival.

    Some people would cower in the corner.

    Others would organize a valiant resistance and fight.

    Dave DeMar screams like a girl And cock punches evil in the Dick.

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