The Stained Pelt
87th Day of Summer, 503 AV
Hesitantly, Sybel hoisted the unwieldy contraption in front of her face, examining its varied mechanical parts. She’d chosen a crossbow in favor of a conventional bow as it was easier to sight, and took a shorter period of time to learn. There was far more physical exertion in re-loading it, but how hard could it be? The taut metal wire that ran across the wooden midsection looked thick and unwieldy. She cast a doubtful look toward the seam where the arrow would be loaded, then turned it over to peer at the underside.
“Have you settled for admiring it? Or would you still like me to instruct you in the basics?” The clear voice interjected its way into her thought process, and her startled glance shot up. The towering, dark blue gentlemen shook his head in amusement. “How is it you’re always so quiet?” She asked with indignation. Apathetically, he shrugged. It was maddening how the Akalak were so many things at one. It made her endlessly curious, but frustrated her need for consistency. When she’d first set foot in Riverfall, the Benshira had been stunned by its majesty. Not only had she never seen a waterfall before, but it had been the first time she’d ever even ventured out of Yahebah. Once a person found themselves in the Sea of Grass, they realized true danger. Thus she’d humbly requested some ranged weapons training, in the event she ever happened on a hungry pack of Zith.
“Well?” His voice yet again broke her reverie. “Do you mind?” She countered, feeling contrary. “I’m trying to daydream here.” The man laughed gently in response. “You are something, aren’t you? I’ve agreed to teach you in case your luck decides to run out. I doubt very much your clever mouth will save you then, little Sybel.” That grated her a bit. Little was only relative to his hulking stature. In contrast to human females, she was actually quite tall. But it was all a matter of perspective. That much she was beginning to realize. The guy was right - her bad attitude was not much of a commodity in terms of survival. Casting a final dubious look at the apparatus, she nodded slowly.
“Alright then. First, I will explain to you the parts. This is a standard crossbow. You will not be able to handle the heavier model until you’ve trained with this.” With one sizable hand, he plucked the weapon from her grasp. “Now. This is the stock.” He patted the end of the piece affectionately. “Also known as a tiller. It is mounted with the mechanism that holds the bowstring.” Turning it over so she could see, he nipped a single digit on either connecting end. “Here on the mechanism there is a rolling, cylinder shaped pawl called the “nut” that serves to retain the string. Lucky for you, that isn’t something you’ll be dealing with in the initial learning process. However, you must be aware of every part of your weapon. In time, this piece of equipment should become a natural extension of your arm.”
Normally, academic tedium would have her bored to distraction. But it had been in classes on dancing, cooking and pleasing your husband… This was something new entirely, something fresh. With minor heartbreak she realized that despite how different they appeared, this man reminded her of Sijah, the cousin who’d shown her how to wield a sword. They shared that adoration for the weapon and the characteristic firmness of an instructor. No wonder she’d been acting so disrespectfully. At times, even Sybel wasn’t aware of what would set her off.
“The bow in question is alternatively known as the prod, or lath. It’s usually made of a single sturdy piece of wood. Though others are built to be composite, we’ll be keeping it simple here. Moving forward, the defining feature of the crossbow prod is its short draw length.” He indicated the shortened sides. “This is to create more tension in the release of the bolt. The additional weight in the pull allows more momentum to be stored, and thus causes a more devastating impact. You will soon see this firsthand.”
He produced a large, thick arrow. “This will be your ammunition. As you can see, it is shorter and more squat than a conventional arrow.” Placing it in her hand, he resumed gesturing. “You will also notice that it’s heavier than a normal arrow.” Unable to resist, she interrupted the speech. “Where’s the feather at the end?” She asked stupidly. For a single moment irritation flashed in the instructor’s eyes before he released a beleaguered sigh. “It’s called fletching, little Sybel. Bolts do not needs feathers to fly as they’re aimed. Now then.” He cleared his throat and resumed the lecture, snatching it out of her hand.
“A bolt can pierce common chain mail. It devastates exposed flesh. In conjunction with the crossbow, the bolt will be your best friend against Zith, wild animals and even human predators. Are you eager to try?” The Akalak inquired teasingly. “Can you show me how its done first?” She asked, still looking the device over with suspicion. “You know, so I can avoid embarrassing myself.” He laughed again, a happy barking sound. “You have some wisdom, girl. Not much, but it will have to do. First thing you must do is draw the string.”
With ease he stretched the metal string until it clicked into place. That didn’t look too bad. But of course, appearances were deceiving. “Then, you check to make sure the mechanism has locked correctly. This is partially why we cock it first. An errant bolt can be incredibly dangerous.” He demonstrated the locking mechanism. “As you can see, its perfectly fine. Now, the next step is to seat the arrow.” He placed it between the metallic prongs, against the wood stock, and beneath the string. It too, seemed to click in place. “Now, finally you may aim. I will demonstrate this as well.” He shouldered the piece, bracing it on one side. “When determining the target, you look down the sight of the arrow itself. Very simple. I suggest using your dominant eye.” He paused intently.
“For the final step, its as simple as squeezing the trigger.” With a startling crack, the projectile was loosed. It whistled through the air and thunked neatly into the target, just askew of the bullseye. For a few seconds, the young human gaped with her mouth open. He chuckled a bit. “Are you a bug catcher or a fighter?” He inquired irreverently. Sheepish, she snapped her jaw shut. “That’s better. Now try your hand at it.” Almost gingerly, he placed the crossbow into her clutches.
With a deep sigh, she looked it over for a moment. Resolve began to strengthen at the base of her spine. She could do this, if she’d only just try… Emulating his hand placement, Sybel attempted to draw back the tightly stretched band. It conceded a few inches, then snapped back into place. Peeved, she went for it again. It gave a bit more in her wrath, but refused to go all the way. How did he just smoothly bring it back like that? “I… It won’t go!” She groused. Clearly entertained, he shook his head. “You will have to become stronger. Try it with all your might, little Bel.” Without her realizing the ploy, the endearment only fueled her oncoming rage. With the same strength she’d channeled in the bloody fight against her Father’s murderers, the young woman hoisted the bowstring ponderously into place. A vein stood out in her temple, but she’d managed somehow. Impressed, he nodded in silence.
“Okay…” She gasped through woeful breaths. “Okay.” Hands shaking, she then checked the mechanism. It was locked. That was good, she was making progress. The powerful man handed her another bolt from his belted quiver. Forcing herself to focus, she placed it exactly as she’d been taught – “No,” he corrected as she tried to force it over the string. “Remember, it needs to be shot forth from the string. Therefore it sits under.” With dawning comprehension, she nodded emphatically. “Thank you.”
Once the bolt was situated, it was time to aim. She braced it against her right shoulder. The stock was both unwieldy and uncomfortable. This form of combat would definitely take some getting used to, she thought with grimace. The Akalak corrected her hand placement and posture a few times, then stepped back. “I don’t expect this to be perfect,” he said in a reassuring tone. “Just try your best. And squeeze gently.” It took a minute of concentration to find what she considered a good angle. Everything felt wrong. Even when she cycled around for the correct eye to use, it threw her off-balance. From one eye she was on target, but with the other she wasn’t. Ranged weapons were a foreign language.
Still, he made a good point. The first attempt never went well. Taking a soothing breath, she slowly pulled the trigger. It loosed the squat-looking arrow forth into the air, and seething with anticipation she watched it approach the target and – miss. Spectacularly. The only positive was that she sort of hit it. Rather that it embedded itself firmly into the post holding the striped panel. But perhaps there was hope for her yet. “Hey! That’s a leg or something right?” Sybel nearly jumped with excitement. He looked her over incredulously. “Not bad at all, little Bel.”
“Stop calling me that!”
With his large palm, he ruffled her hair good-naturedly. “Alright you. Here is the quiver.” He unbelted the narrow container and handed it over. “Since you know how to use a sword belt, this shouldn’t be terrible for you to manage. It normally goes over the shoulder, but for these purposes it’ll be easier to wear it at the hip. Try not to kill anyone, including yourself.” Sybel froze. “Wait, you’re leaving?” He sighed. “Normally I would charge someone for a lesson of that variety, but you are in dire need. Consider it charity. Now if you’ll excuse me, I’m off to actually earn a living.” But his tone was not unkind, considering his words.
Once she’d swept from the yard, panic began to set in. He’d shown her everything and already she felt as if it’d leaked out of her brain. Drawing in deep breaths, she attempted to clear her mind. After a few minutes of meditation and a lot of internal repetition, she felt a little better about the affair.
The act of drawing the string proved near impossible. She pulled and pulled but it just wouldn’t give. At one point, she rolled about the dusty ground, bracing it with her feet, howling expletives. Finding leverage wouldn’t help, and her grip on the thing itself was weak at best. Finally, exasperated, she nearly decided to throw it at the damn target. But it suddenly occurred to her… The last time she’d found the strength, she was mad.... Getting angry was the key! Seething with hostility she picked it up, closed her eyes and pretended she was back in the desert.
There he was, his sneering face. The string creaked as she pulled it, but this time she wouldn’t falter. There was a breakthrough as it clicked into place. Though the girl had nearly thrown her back out doing it, the point remained that she did. Recovering, she followed the next few steps. It was locked, the bolt was under the wire, and she let it fly. Despite her seemingly meticulous aim, it went off center yet again! This time it grazed the side of the circle and lost momentum before hitting the building. Wincing, she bit down on a set of fingernails. That would get her chewed out.
Still, her progress was undeniable. For the next hour she continued the grueling work. It made her arms ache to the point of torture. With each pull, it was like a turn on the rack. But the small successes kept her determined. She’d go to the weaponsmith and buy one as soon as she could, come back and practice on her own time. That teacher who had found her drinking away the pain in the local tavern had lit a fire in her heart. It was the start of something new.
87th Day of Summer, 503 AV
Hesitantly, Sybel hoisted the unwieldy contraption in front of her face, examining its varied mechanical parts. She’d chosen a crossbow in favor of a conventional bow as it was easier to sight, and took a shorter period of time to learn. There was far more physical exertion in re-loading it, but how hard could it be? The taut metal wire that ran across the wooden midsection looked thick and unwieldy. She cast a doubtful look toward the seam where the arrow would be loaded, then turned it over to peer at the underside.
“Have you settled for admiring it? Or would you still like me to instruct you in the basics?” The clear voice interjected its way into her thought process, and her startled glance shot up. The towering, dark blue gentlemen shook his head in amusement. “How is it you’re always so quiet?” She asked with indignation. Apathetically, he shrugged. It was maddening how the Akalak were so many things at one. It made her endlessly curious, but frustrated her need for consistency. When she’d first set foot in Riverfall, the Benshira had been stunned by its majesty. Not only had she never seen a waterfall before, but it had been the first time she’d ever even ventured out of Yahebah. Once a person found themselves in the Sea of Grass, they realized true danger. Thus she’d humbly requested some ranged weapons training, in the event she ever happened on a hungry pack of Zith.
“Well?” His voice yet again broke her reverie. “Do you mind?” She countered, feeling contrary. “I’m trying to daydream here.” The man laughed gently in response. “You are something, aren’t you? I’ve agreed to teach you in case your luck decides to run out. I doubt very much your clever mouth will save you then, little Sybel.” That grated her a bit. Little was only relative to his hulking stature. In contrast to human females, she was actually quite tall. But it was all a matter of perspective. That much she was beginning to realize. The guy was right - her bad attitude was not much of a commodity in terms of survival. Casting a final dubious look at the apparatus, she nodded slowly.
“Alright then. First, I will explain to you the parts. This is a standard crossbow. You will not be able to handle the heavier model until you’ve trained with this.” With one sizable hand, he plucked the weapon from her grasp. “Now. This is the stock.” He patted the end of the piece affectionately. “Also known as a tiller. It is mounted with the mechanism that holds the bowstring.” Turning it over so she could see, he nipped a single digit on either connecting end. “Here on the mechanism there is a rolling, cylinder shaped pawl called the “nut” that serves to retain the string. Lucky for you, that isn’t something you’ll be dealing with in the initial learning process. However, you must be aware of every part of your weapon. In time, this piece of equipment should become a natural extension of your arm.”
Normally, academic tedium would have her bored to distraction. But it had been in classes on dancing, cooking and pleasing your husband… This was something new entirely, something fresh. With minor heartbreak she realized that despite how different they appeared, this man reminded her of Sijah, the cousin who’d shown her how to wield a sword. They shared that adoration for the weapon and the characteristic firmness of an instructor. No wonder she’d been acting so disrespectfully. At times, even Sybel wasn’t aware of what would set her off.
“The bow in question is alternatively known as the prod, or lath. It’s usually made of a single sturdy piece of wood. Though others are built to be composite, we’ll be keeping it simple here. Moving forward, the defining feature of the crossbow prod is its short draw length.” He indicated the shortened sides. “This is to create more tension in the release of the bolt. The additional weight in the pull allows more momentum to be stored, and thus causes a more devastating impact. You will soon see this firsthand.”
He produced a large, thick arrow. “This will be your ammunition. As you can see, it is shorter and more squat than a conventional arrow.” Placing it in her hand, he resumed gesturing. “You will also notice that it’s heavier than a normal arrow.” Unable to resist, she interrupted the speech. “Where’s the feather at the end?” She asked stupidly. For a single moment irritation flashed in the instructor’s eyes before he released a beleaguered sigh. “It’s called fletching, little Sybel. Bolts do not needs feathers to fly as they’re aimed. Now then.” He cleared his throat and resumed the lecture, snatching it out of her hand.
“A bolt can pierce common chain mail. It devastates exposed flesh. In conjunction with the crossbow, the bolt will be your best friend against Zith, wild animals and even human predators. Are you eager to try?” The Akalak inquired teasingly. “Can you show me how its done first?” She asked, still looking the device over with suspicion. “You know, so I can avoid embarrassing myself.” He laughed again, a happy barking sound. “You have some wisdom, girl. Not much, but it will have to do. First thing you must do is draw the string.”
With ease he stretched the metal string until it clicked into place. That didn’t look too bad. But of course, appearances were deceiving. “Then, you check to make sure the mechanism has locked correctly. This is partially why we cock it first. An errant bolt can be incredibly dangerous.” He demonstrated the locking mechanism. “As you can see, its perfectly fine. Now, the next step is to seat the arrow.” He placed it between the metallic prongs, against the wood stock, and beneath the string. It too, seemed to click in place. “Now, finally you may aim. I will demonstrate this as well.” He shouldered the piece, bracing it on one side. “When determining the target, you look down the sight of the arrow itself. Very simple. I suggest using your dominant eye.” He paused intently.
“For the final step, its as simple as squeezing the trigger.” With a startling crack, the projectile was loosed. It whistled through the air and thunked neatly into the target, just askew of the bullseye. For a few seconds, the young human gaped with her mouth open. He chuckled a bit. “Are you a bug catcher or a fighter?” He inquired irreverently. Sheepish, she snapped her jaw shut. “That’s better. Now try your hand at it.” Almost gingerly, he placed the crossbow into her clutches.
With a deep sigh, she looked it over for a moment. Resolve began to strengthen at the base of her spine. She could do this, if she’d only just try… Emulating his hand placement, Sybel attempted to draw back the tightly stretched band. It conceded a few inches, then snapped back into place. Peeved, she went for it again. It gave a bit more in her wrath, but refused to go all the way. How did he just smoothly bring it back like that? “I… It won’t go!” She groused. Clearly entertained, he shook his head. “You will have to become stronger. Try it with all your might, little Bel.” Without her realizing the ploy, the endearment only fueled her oncoming rage. With the same strength she’d channeled in the bloody fight against her Father’s murderers, the young woman hoisted the bowstring ponderously into place. A vein stood out in her temple, but she’d managed somehow. Impressed, he nodded in silence.
“Okay…” She gasped through woeful breaths. “Okay.” Hands shaking, she then checked the mechanism. It was locked. That was good, she was making progress. The powerful man handed her another bolt from his belted quiver. Forcing herself to focus, she placed it exactly as she’d been taught – “No,” he corrected as she tried to force it over the string. “Remember, it needs to be shot forth from the string. Therefore it sits under.” With dawning comprehension, she nodded emphatically. “Thank you.”
Once the bolt was situated, it was time to aim. She braced it against her right shoulder. The stock was both unwieldy and uncomfortable. This form of combat would definitely take some getting used to, she thought with grimace. The Akalak corrected her hand placement and posture a few times, then stepped back. “I don’t expect this to be perfect,” he said in a reassuring tone. “Just try your best. And squeeze gently.” It took a minute of concentration to find what she considered a good angle. Everything felt wrong. Even when she cycled around for the correct eye to use, it threw her off-balance. From one eye she was on target, but with the other she wasn’t. Ranged weapons were a foreign language.
Still, he made a good point. The first attempt never went well. Taking a soothing breath, she slowly pulled the trigger. It loosed the squat-looking arrow forth into the air, and seething with anticipation she watched it approach the target and – miss. Spectacularly. The only positive was that she sort of hit it. Rather that it embedded itself firmly into the post holding the striped panel. But perhaps there was hope for her yet. “Hey! That’s a leg or something right?” Sybel nearly jumped with excitement. He looked her over incredulously. “Not bad at all, little Bel.”
“Stop calling me that!”
With his large palm, he ruffled her hair good-naturedly. “Alright you. Here is the quiver.” He unbelted the narrow container and handed it over. “Since you know how to use a sword belt, this shouldn’t be terrible for you to manage. It normally goes over the shoulder, but for these purposes it’ll be easier to wear it at the hip. Try not to kill anyone, including yourself.” Sybel froze. “Wait, you’re leaving?” He sighed. “Normally I would charge someone for a lesson of that variety, but you are in dire need. Consider it charity. Now if you’ll excuse me, I’m off to actually earn a living.” But his tone was not unkind, considering his words.
Once she’d swept from the yard, panic began to set in. He’d shown her everything and already she felt as if it’d leaked out of her brain. Drawing in deep breaths, she attempted to clear her mind. After a few minutes of meditation and a lot of internal repetition, she felt a little better about the affair.
The act of drawing the string proved near impossible. She pulled and pulled but it just wouldn’t give. At one point, she rolled about the dusty ground, bracing it with her feet, howling expletives. Finding leverage wouldn’t help, and her grip on the thing itself was weak at best. Finally, exasperated, she nearly decided to throw it at the damn target. But it suddenly occurred to her… The last time she’d found the strength, she was mad.... Getting angry was the key! Seething with hostility she picked it up, closed her eyes and pretended she was back in the desert.
There he was, his sneering face. The string creaked as she pulled it, but this time she wouldn’t falter. There was a breakthrough as it clicked into place. Though the girl had nearly thrown her back out doing it, the point remained that she did. Recovering, she followed the next few steps. It was locked, the bolt was under the wire, and she let it fly. Despite her seemingly meticulous aim, it went off center yet again! This time it grazed the side of the circle and lost momentum before hitting the building. Wincing, she bit down on a set of fingernails. That would get her chewed out.
Still, her progress was undeniable. For the next hour she continued the grueling work. It made her arms ache to the point of torture. With each pull, it was like a turn on the rack. But the small successes kept her determined. She’d go to the weaponsmith and buy one as soon as she could, come back and practice on her own time. That teacher who had found her drinking away the pain in the local tavern had lit a fire in her heart. It was the start of something new.
