Solo Remember My Name

[Tillie Brewer]

It was difficult to say the least finding work as a mercenary in the city of Syilras as everything within the city's domain was handled strictly by knights and squires. It was just beyond the gates and beyond there jurisdiction that mercenaries operated.

You needed a reputation, she had one at the expense of Alexander. She'd tell that tale at least once an evening to inform patrons of the caliber of her competent marksmanship. A harrowing tale of how she was a mercenary of such quality that a knight named Alexander Faircroft had groveled for her help in rounding up bandits. Followed by the climatic ending where he fell on his ass squeeling like a girl and her heroic shot saved the day.

Either way Tillie Brewer got paid, he denied the mercenary monetary compensation for her efforts so she used the exploit as her very own advertising campaign in pubs and bars. So what if it might smear his reputation a fair bit, it was a funny story that left out key elements of his bravery to make him look like a fool and make Tillie out to be even better than she really was.

But tonight was a little different as her second or third ale sloshed around her cup. Finally there was a bite, and she could begin reeling in a nice pay day. When she knew that the purse offered was a reality Tillie cut herself off from the tap no more alcohol the party was over for Tillie as things just became serious.

She was told of a group of highway men operating just outside the reach of Syilras. On the map was an x placed where the merchants had been hit. The map had roads and beaten paths that led into the city. A quick study of the map and she concluded that she wanted to set up on the rocky alcoves to shoot down on them in the open gulch when they roamed around.

There was also a particulary powerful reimancer among them. According to the merchants this mage usually halted the caravan dead in its tracks by bombarding the lead carriages with bursts of flames. She was clearly the ring leader often spouting instructions to the raiding party.

Tillie was naturally hired for the job because of the bravado in her advertising story.

[Tillie Brewer]

Tillie was finally set and ready to go, she was adorned in her father's camouflaged armor that he used to wear while hunting. It was her heirloom and she treasured it's memory as she walked over to her siege crossbow and slung the strap over her shoulder. And proceeded out of her apartment and through the gates, and headed into the wilderness.

She followed the beaten path for a while keeping herself aware of her surroundings until she made it too the crossroads. She wanted a vantage point that was in her favor that put them close enough for her to be able to accurately hit them but far enough away where they couldn't just run up on her.

She trudged onward keeping a steady pace until she finally got to her destination. It wasn't a bad set up as her feet securely placed themselves on crumbled rock until she had a moment to survey the area. The gulch was long and empty, the perfect killing zone to reap the lives of those who were a conflict of interest to the city of syilra.

Placing her siege crossbow on the rocky ledge she unlocked and unhinged the weapons foldable bipod taking a great deal of time to make sure the weapon would remain steady on the uneven surface.

Once she found a certain degree of comfort in the prone position she withdrew an extra large crannequin from the leather strap of her armored leg. It looked like two hooks on a flat metal crowbar with a cranking reel ontop.

It was standard fair even the typical hunting crossbow required a mechanical piece of equipment like this to operate. The item found itself carefully placed atop metal cable evenly.

The cranking mechanism was a well oiled machine which meant buttery smooth operation. The ratcheting gears took the work right out of something a jamoura would break its back attempting to pull back by hand.

It took time to fully complete the colossal weapon draw, each rotation got a little harder until a feint click could be heard.

Then only after that sound she checked visually to make sure the triggers hooked claws caught and held the wire securely. That was the tricky part, it took a little know how and familiarity with the weapon to know what was and wasn't secure. A mistake or missfire could easily blast through an appendage like a whirring blade.

It was so much easier cranking in reverse as the cabled claws loosened there grip on the wire altogether allowing her to remove the old device, some people might have stopped as soon as they could break it free. But Tillie knew better, if she spun it all the way it was one step our of the way as it was prepared to claw the cord that much faster.

And a crossbow bolt found itself placed in the groove. Gentle taps danced across the smoothly sanded oak and there to snugly put her projectile again the release claw for maximum thrust.

It took roughly a minute or two to set up her siege crossbow. Once her task was complete she pulled out her spy glass and began surveying the area.

Her telescopic vision combed the tree line waiting in anticipation for the mage and her motley crew of savage cut throats. Tillie was figuring if she killed the mage the bandits would disband although it was unclear how many of them there actually were.

The camoflage armor and crossbow made her appear to be a shrubbery with thick roots and braches growing out of the loose rocky soil.

[Tillie Brewer]

Deep down Tillie was worried she knew what could go wrong as her spyglass swept back and forth across the ivory white landscape as she paid close attention to the outline of the forest. She would be a laughing stock in the best worst senerio, miss a perfectly good shot and be the clown of the mercenary industry. And Tillie swore she would never go out like that, she wanted to make sure that she was as precise as a surgical scalpel when the opportunity presented itself.

She lay there as the cold snow danced in the wind and fell on her creating patches of snow around her. Adjustments were made to the rather large spyglass so she could see further out, so she could see things now that normal eyesight could not.

It wasn't gambling on the striking the tsrget when the target presentrd itself it was the it was the silence and the time she had to herself. Time that could stretch out for days to contest herself with doubts or minor worries slowly built up and progressed into extreme concerns. Will they show up at all loomed in her mind along with what if they show up and they are outside her range. The waiting game made herself her own worst enemy as her mind could get carried away with what ifs, and would've could've should'ves.

Crossbowman played a different game than long bow archers. They could fire a shot miss line up another and then let it go. But Tillie believed firmly as did her father and his father before him that what good is 5 10 15 20 arrows if they all miss there target what did it matter?

She believed in one shot, one kill.

She noticed her breathing was ever so gently moving the siege crossbow. She took a moment to inhale through her nose and exhale through her mouth to try and shake off the jitters. Tillie was concentrating on being one with her weapon as she began trying to practice breathing. A panicked gasp for breath could knock even the steadiest aim off balance. There was a lot more to shooting crossbows than lining some unlucky bastard up and pulling the trigger. Breathing just happened to be one of those intricacy a trade secret of sorts

[Tillie Brewer]

When there finally came a stirred echoe of sound from the forests edge, Tillies spyglass compacted into eachother becoming smaller and smaller alunit until it was eventually tucked away. Allowing for better visual access of her intended target.

It seemed as if the mage was not alone however, as she was being escorted by a couple of her flunkies. A slender bowman who walked with a stride of unsettling confidence like he knew exactly what he was doing, and a heavily armored warrior in what looked to be piecemail and a great helm with a visor slit he carried a rather nasty looking bastard sword that seemed just a little to eager to sweep from its sheath and the last but not least the mage. She carried herself in a dignified manner like she was above her peers, the typical I've harnessed the power of the arcane so I'm better then you kind of prittle prattle that oozed off of that snobby bitch's swagger.

There was a certainly a moment of refrain as her eyes fixated on the tail feather of her crossbow bolt like it was a makeshift iron sight. There was alot of time to harness proper breathing technique to calm her nerves and steady the involuntary quiver of her hand. Concentration to trump fear and anxiety as her heart began pacing and her eye dilating down the power stroke and then nothing only silence as she appeared frozen as nothing else mattered.

Her shoulder lurched forward to brace herself for the colossal recoil. She could feel the breeze on her face, it was gentle wisk a small movement to the right the bolt appeared to be off target just outside the center of mass. This is because she was calculating how far off the air would push the projectile, and she was using basic math to mentally draw a rough estimation of how the air would push and how many feet it would displace the bolt.

The crossbowman turned around and started having a conversation with the mage and as he did this his back veiled the primary target from Tillies line of sight.

No matter a sharp breath in and a squeeze of the trigger unleashed a thunderous thwapping noise that resonated in the gulch as the tension in the cord found sweet release propelling the missile weapon across the power stroke with vehement force.

It did not sing through the air, it screamed as a mere moment after her shot jettisoned it traversed the area between her and her target. The air as calculated shifted her shot by about a half foot putting it somewhere around the upper part of the lower right quadrant between 4 and 6 if you looked at the center of mass like a clock.

That bolt hit the archers back with such force it simply sailed through him like a hot knife through butter and continued it's journey as it burst through his torso almost as fast as it had broken free the quarrel bolted into the shorter mages chest and exited her back with such fluid turbulent force that the two unarmored bandits were nay but speed bumps as the fletched piece of oak found itself buried beneath the ground and snow.

The damage dealt was severe, the archer dropped his weapon clenching his gut and he fell too his knees, the mage on the other hand had faired even worse the crossbow bolt had ruptured a lung and was laying back first in the snow drowning in her bile and blood with horrific coughing fits as she gasped for air like a fish floundering out of water.

The armored bandit was stunned his limited vision had him turning left and right as he tried to find the culprit responsible for this. He was hardboiled, but it seemed the stress from this was starting to wear on him and he was starting to crack.