Flashback The Hard Way

[Elias Caldera]

2nd Day of Spring
508 AV

Winters in Ravok were never really as cold as elsewhere, but the nip would still on occasion slip through Rhysol's protection. He sneered and his breath steamed. The apprentices he had been glaring at only smirked and walked away. Elias watched them go, wishing he could give chase, begging for just a chance to get his hands on those smug faces so he could rearrange them. He couldn't however, and everyone knew it. They would just laugh and point and dance around him and his busted leg. If they were particularly cruel that day, they would kick it out from under him and watch him crawl about on the ground for a little while before getting bored and moving on. A hand tenderly massaged his knee as he closed his eyes and tried to think of something else besides his own seething. It was a trick he had been trying and failing to master since they had bed ridden him.

They had come for him in the dead of night. While he slept, they had held him down and then they had beat him with fists, boots, and socks filled with soap. They hit him until his nose was broken, until his ribs burned, until all he could do was cry. When he had finally been able to rise the next morning, he had promptly stumbled out of the barracks, screaming curses and enraged gibberish, aiming himself straight at any recruit he could find. Unfortunately, he had done so right in the middle of one of Barasa's speeches, and so she beat him too, but much, much worse. He had seen how she had a pension for crippling her trainees, and he should have known. It was dumb of him not to wait, to plan out his revenge, but he had been so angry it was hard to even remember any of what he had done that day. That was probably just the pain talking, but sometimes, when he looked back -and he certainly had a lot of time to do that now- he could only see flashes of himself, furious as he hurt his fellow apprentices for nothing more than the simple joy of seeing them in pain, broken and defeated at his feet.

That was why they had taken turns taking their vengeance. He was like a wild animal among them, and they had had enough. For the first week he screamed and shouted and gnashed his teeth from where he was trapping in his bed. Barasa had refused to let the healers take a look at his leg, confining him to mere poultices and a cast so he would learn from his mistakes properly. Her punishment was not the pain, but the waiting and the waning. He had not been able to stand for a week, and for a week he wasted away, unable to train with his fellow recruits, unable to keep up with the grueling lessons or learn the newest teachings. He had fallen behind, and that may as well have been a death sentence in the Vitrax.

Elias was done moping. If he couldn't train one way, he would find another. He lifted himself out of his pitiful state with a groan and made for the training grounds.

[Elias Caldera]

"Go away."

"Master Deklin, I've come to-"

"Go away, apprentice."

"I've come to train, master."

That by itself would not be seen as a bold statement, but when spoken to instructor who was on his break, it was a quite a different matter. Master Deklin was not one of the trainers Elias had spent much, if any time with since arriving. He knew the man was a master of the bow as much as he was of the horse and saddle. He had heard the man was half Drykas, but then again, he had also heard the old cafeteria lady with the gnarled fingers and glass eye was half nuit. It would have explained the smell sure, but apprentices had a bad habit of spreading rumors when they weren't busy killing each other or praying to Rhysol. Deklin was indeed Drykas as Elias had come to learn however, and as a people he had heard they were rightly proud of their reputation as lords of archery. If Elias didn't have the ability to dance with the sword, he would learn to stand with a bow.

"Train?" Deklin scoffed, his eyes never once opening as he lay on his hammock.

"If you're willing, sir." Elias replied, openly and honestly. "If not, then I'd just be happy to have your permission to take out a bow and some arrows. I've been in bed too long." Deklin opened up one lazy green eye and gleamed it in Elias's direction, clearly pondering over the boy before him. "You can barely stand." He said bluntly, as if it would be enough to send the apprentice running off. "But I can stand, and I can shoot too." When nothing was said for a long while, the young Caldera feared his words were in vain. He stifled his sigh and turned to leave. "Alright... Meet me at the range in half a bell, and apprentice, if you wake me from my nap a second time, I'll be using your hide as a throw rug."

Elias did not even need to say anything to show how giddy he was. He was practically beaming already. He gave a short bow that was turned into a nod when he remembered his leg. Finally, he had something to do again. Finally, he had a vent for his frustration.


Thirty chimes later the two of them were walking through the dust and dirt, bows in their hands and quivers on their backs. Elias followed with a noticeable limp, but was determined not to let his instructor wait for him. They walked by classes and regiments of apprentices, all training and fighting. Elias longed to join them, to beat them, but he focused on the task he had set before him. He was cold, and his knee ached, but it would not stop him. A fresh blast of icy wind met them as they came to the edge of archery range, a number of targets lying face down at varying distances away. The duo walked over to ones thirty or so yards away, and Deklin lifted it up and into proper position.

It was just another target, but It had been pierced so many hundreds of of times that it was impressive to see it still standing at all. "Set up the other two." Deklin commanded, and Elias obeyed. He marched over to the other targets, these ones dummies and further away. He hefted them off the ground, his leg protesting but ignored, and set them standing. He heard a thud from behind and turned around to see an arrow sticking out of the first target. He furrowed his brown. There was a second thud, this one inches from his head and he yelped, falling unto his ass, wide eyed and shocked. He watched speechlessly as a third arrow sliced into the third dummy, directly in the heart.

He turned to Deklin who had fired all three expert shots, and the man only smiled. "Remember you asked for this, apprentice. Now pick up your bow."

[Elias Caldera]

Once he had gotten over his surprise, Elias could not help but admire the man's aim. Three shots and three perfect bullseyes. One had struck the red center of the round target, and the hearts of the two other human shaped dummies had been pierced from front to back. The closest was thirty yards, but the furthest had been one hundred.

With an effort, he marched over to where Deklin stood, smirking in excitement. "Yes sir, good shots, sir." He said as he joined the larger man and grasped his bow with one hand, drawing an arrow with another. "Really good..." He last words trailed off as he stood next to the instructor, finally getting an appreciation for how far away he was from what he was meant to hit. Elias was no seasoned archer, in fact, he sometimes still had trouble getting the notches lined up on arrow. As he looked at the distances now, he was starting to doubt if he could do this as easily as he had first expected.

Deklin cocked an eyebrow as he lined up his next shot. "When you're done kissing my ass apprentice, please, feel free to notch your shot and take aim." He let loose the black feathered arrow and it struck the one hundred dummy in the head. Elias shook his head, but stopped himself when he noticed It was throwing off his aim. "I trust you can find your stance?" Deklin asked, motioning at the bad leg. Elias nodded and planted his feet just like he had when he practiced with his father. His enthusiasm had him shifting too much weight on the damn thing and he winced in pain. He turned himself sideways to the target instead, left shoulder and left foot pointed towards it.

"Do you always hit your target, master Deklin?"

He drew an arrow again and notched it on the drawstring, holding the bow firmly, raising it and drawing back the string with two fingers at the same time. He could hear Deklin chuckling back at him, even as he too readied himself for his next shot. "Not always. I've been known to miss from time to time." He let his arrow fly, the only movement on his entire body was his fingers gently letting go of the drawstring. The bow, his arms, his torso, none of them so much as twitched, and the arrow flew through the air and slammed into the target. "Well... Occasionally..." Another arrow, another kill shot. "Sometimes..." Again, another dead dummy. "When I feel its prudent anyway."

Elias looked on in admiration. He bought his bow up so the arrow was level with his eye. He bent his hand holding the bow back a little, letting the tension rest in its heel so as to steady it. He saw the target, imagined the arrow in it... His fingers straightened, releasing the string and and half a moment later arrow thudded into its prey. He had killed the ground quite successfully. It earned a whistle from his teacher. "The wind..." Elias mumbled. He hadn't put enough strength behind it, which was just embarrassing, but he knew it was because of his leg. Deklin wouldn't care though, and as a first shot it was just dreadful.

The Drykas snorted when Elias's second arrow whizzed high over its intended quarry. The boy's face flushed in shock. He was suddenly missing his comfy bed. Deklin kicked his legs apart suddenly, earning a grunt from the apprentice as his stance was suddenly shifted into place for him. Deklin didn't say anything, he just stepped forward and present his bow to the boy, showing him step by step as he introduced the arrow to the string, how his fingers closed around it, and how he pulled it back. He even went so far, Elias noticed at the end, to mimic his own haphazard stance. The recruit nodded and mimicked it. They both loosed and both arrows struck the first target. Elias had not made it to the center, but the fact that it had struck something other than dirt was enough for a silent cheer.

The two notched fresh arrows and continued in silence, nothing breaking it but the steady scrape of arrows pulled from quivers, the creak of bowstrings pulled taut, and the twang of shot whistling through the air.

[Elias Caldera]

Repetition was an unavoidable aspect of any training. Elias knew this all too well. His father had instilled that expectation and patience into him years before he had ever set foot within the hallowed walls of the Vitrax. So the boy knew it wasn't all fanciful techniques or pure brute strength that often marked a good soldier -though those things certainly helped. It was doing the actions over and over and over until one's muscles locked them away like a memory and could summon them at will, before even your mind had to.

The clansman turned Ravokian elite next to him was his model of such a lesson. Within a few chimes of shooting he could see that his actions were impossibly smooth and seamless. Drawing the arrow, notching it, aiming and firing. They weren't four separate movements to him, requiring the tiniest pause between each one. No, when Deklin did It, it was was just the arrow flying free from his grasp. Elias could have taken out his arrow and thrown it by hand, and still wouldn't have been as smooth as the expert archer.

By the end, Deklin was firing three arrows to every one of his, and considerably more accurate. Elias had realized early on what the instructor was doing. He was showing up the recruit, and it wasn't a tactic Elias was unfamiliar with. The instructors enjoyed doing it too, but not to belittle or boast (most of the times) but to inspire, and more often than not, annoy. An annoyed recruit was either too emotional to be of use, and was scolded for it when he failed, or used that bubbling resentment to push himself further and further until he could surpass his better. It didn't always work, but sometimes it did.

After ten or so chimes of shooting, quiet instructions, and dozens of arrows, Elias was confident he had gotten better... in a sense that at least he was not longer a threat to anyone remotely near his weapon's line of sight. He had failed to hit the target, but he kept practicing and found his own movements getting smoother as he did so. His arms were getting used to the reach and pull of arrows from the quiver across his back, and now he was grasping them with the same two fingers he pulled the drawstring with, saving himself a precious couple of moments when he notched and drew back on the string. He had gotten accustomed to the weight he could move about on his leg as well, and pushed down the dull ache of the pain that he convinced himself had been distracting him.

Once again, he drew, aimed, breathed in... held it, and let fly an arrow down the range. That time, it barely missed, and the young man smiled. Dozens of arrows loosed, and all of them had landed nowhere near, but that one, that one was close. "This is shameful" Deklin said out of the corner of his mouth, eyes never moving from his target "I didn't expect a master marksman, but good gods recruit."

"Thank you, sir."

"Don't thank me yet you cheeky little shyke, you still have to go collect all those arrows." Deklin said bluntly, his quiver empty. Elias hadn't even noticed his was as well. He grimaced at the prospect, but nodded without question and limped away. When he returned his breath was coming out in ragged and pained breaths.

"Again."

[Elias Caldera]

Elias looked down at the bow in his hand, mourning over yet another missed shot. Deklin had shifted him about like a doll until he was satisfied the boy's stance was right, but still he was failing. It had become clear his own methods were not satisfactory any more. He had a bad habit of drawing the string early and overdrawing when he did. Deklin had claimed it would be more than making adjustments, it would be learning how to fire a bow all over again. His instincts with the weapon were off and he needed to have his knowledge scrapped and rebuilt.

Reaching around to his back, Elias retrieved and arrow from his quiver, his focus split between the training and the embarrassment he was feeling at that point. Part of him hoped the man was wrong, or that his bow was off, or it was just his leg. He could only hope that Deklin's lessons would prove fruitful enough. The weapon suddenly felt foreign in his hands, and for the first time he felt himself nervous under the glare of his instructor. With his arrow nocked, Elias brought the bow up to the ready. Deklin simply watched this time, his own bow leaning against his leg as he studied his flawed little soldier. Releasing his breath, he let the arrow fly. The projectile sailed through the air and over the target, clanking against the wall behind him.

A quick look of frustration shot across Elias's face. He really was horrible at this.

Deklin frowned at him. He seemed to consider the recruit for a while before he speaking. "Do you know why they beat you?" The question caught the young apprentice off guard. He stammered at first and looked down at his feet. "Because they are jealous." he snarled angrily. Deklin tsked.

"They beat you because you have made them your enemy." Elias looked up, and the instructor continued. "It is true, I hear Barasa praising your name to the others, but do you think it will be Barasa standing by your side when you're looking down the sights of your bow at the mob, or the bandits, or the knights when they descend upon you? No, it will be your enemies out there, who you hate, and who you have made to hate you."

Elias shuffled uncomfortably. "Instead of making yourself the target for their frustration, apprentice, you should have made yourself their brother. The Ebonstryfe is not made of individuals, young one, but of a single, unified force dedicated to Rhysol and each other." Another frown of disappointment. "Return to me when your leg is healed recruit, we have a surprising amount of work to do, and I don't mean just with the bow."

Elias was taken aback, choking on the words he could not muster in response. Instead, he simply hobbled away, his head hung low in shame. He hadn't been able to say anything because Deklin was right... he needed help.

[Nemesis]

Elias Caldera

Knowledge :

Skills

Skill	XP
Observation	+3
Persuasion	+1
Weapon: Shortbow	+4

Lores

*Ebonstryfe: Brothers
*The Stance of a Bowman

Micellaneous :

Injuries

*None

Loot/Expenses

*None

____________________________________________

Notes

*Another good thread, Caldera. Would be nice to see him grow - and I'm curious as to why he had to leave Ravok, why he was no longer in the Ebonstryfe... I will unravel the mysteries... o.O

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Thank ye!