Completed To Shoot an Arrow Off a Bale (Cont.)

[Alevadra Druva]

Spring 45th, 501AV Afternoon The air was damp, the sort of spring afternoon that spoke of evening showers so subtly. The plants craved the moisture, wish to reach their full potential which was only possibly when the perfect harmony of sun and moisture occur. Lately, it seemed that there had been a great deal of sun and not enough moisture. Outside of Stormhold proper, the wind picked up a bit, rustling hair and clothes, causing the long grasses to sway smoothly. Patrick was in a bright mood, a smile upon his freckled face as the wind tussled his short, unruly, red locks. Alevadra walked beside him, barely reaching the lanky knights shoulder as the wind threatened to undo the careful blonde braid that traveled down her back. A few loose strands wisped around her face as they walked, brown eyes squinting in the sunlight. “It’s like you’ve never seen the light of day, Ale! With a face like that, I’d think I’d pulled you from under a rock.” The knight teased his squire as he strayed from the path. Off to the side of the road was a long forgotten bale of hay. It was green with fresh growth and its once obvious structure was all but completely gone. “Oh, I’m not that bad! It’s just… Very bright.” Patrick shook his head. “It was just as bright in the city, I’m sure the main reason for your squinting is the wind.” It was true, Ale was not one for wind—though, who really was? The duo walked up to the bedraggled stack of hay, seemingly solid from unknown sources that assisted in in keeping some sort of structure. “Alright, I’m going to place the apple in the bale of hay. If I set it on it, you’ll lose all your arrows before you even hit the petching thing.” The woman frowned and shook her head. “Oh, come off it! You really think I’m that bad of a shot?” The man wedged the red apple into the golden, brown, green mess of a haystack before turning his green eyes back to Ale. “Of course not, you’re a rather stunning shot, actually. I just don’t expect you to be able to do as well out here as you do in there.” He nodded towards Stormholds high walls as he stopped a few feet before her. “Go on, string up your bow, lets see if I underestimated you.” He smiled to the young woman, waiting patiently for her to get to work. The act of stringing a bow had grown easier with time, it was almost a ritual now. Alevadra was particular with the placement of her bow, the location of her hands, her pressure applied to bend the strong wood. The squire imagined her mother, the was the knight had strung her bow, the little Ale watching on in awe as her mother’s movements were so precise and exact, not an ounce of extraneous effort, not a moment wasted. Efficiency, but also a strange, lethal elegance in her mother’s movements. Alevadra tried desperately to recreate the smooth, exacting motions each time she strung her bow, as if a silent connection that still existed between the living and the dead. Patrick watched on silently, his arms crossed over his chest as the squire set about preparing for—ultimately—a rather simple task. He was ever observant of her motions, it was not hard for him to see the similarities she held to her mother, Jasme`. After all, Patrick had been around both of Ale’s parents as a squire, it was as if Ale was a perfect copy of her mother—at least, physically. Emotionally, Alevadra was more akin to a wet rag when compared to her open and loving mother. Alevadra held up her bow, testing the draw on the string momentarily before pulling an arrow from her quiver. “You know, were this the real world, out there, you’d be dead by now.” Patrick interjected as she nocked the arrow. Ale sighed, holding the shaft of the arrow upon the shelf with her index. “Good thing you are here to keep me safe.” Patrick laughed and nodded—unknowingly to Ale. “Lucky indeed.” Her attention on the patron behind her vanished as she assumed a proper stance. Her spine was straight, legs bent ever so slightly, bow held aloft as the string was pulled back to her earlobe. All the while, Patrick meticulously watched his squire, taking in all the subtle shifts in weight, points of weakness everything—after all, how was he to teach without search for what needed to be corrected? An inhale in through her nose was refreshing, smelling of the sickly sweet molding hay twenty paces away. She aimed the best she could, eyeing the vibrant red heart placed with the beast of mold and fresh growth. The wind was slight, and Ale accounted for it the best she knew, Patrick had taught her that much already. The arrow was ready, Ale was ready. She released the arrow and let out a breath of air from her pursed lips. The arrow flew, slicing through the hay just to the right of the apple without the slightlest resistence. The grey fletching were visible even from the distance Ale stood at. The squire stared at the arrow, perplexed, she wasn’t about to turn to Patrick and admit he was right—who would she be if she did? Not Alevadra Druva, that was for sure. From behind, a whistle broke the quiet spring afternoon as Patrick stepped up to stand beside her. “I won’t say it. That was a hell of a shot—but, that isn’t the goal of this, the goal of this is to hit the apple. However,” He took a step to stand before her, blocking her view of the hay and forcing those green eyes to look at her patron. “Where that a man, you would have struck a lethal blow.” The knight took Ale’s hand and pressed it against the spot on his chest to the right of his heart. “I wouldn’t be coming back from that if I were that bale.” Brown eyes regarded him for a moment before nodding and letting out a quiet sigh. “I know, but that wasn’t what I said I was going to do.” Patrick let go of her hand and shrugged. “You don’t always get to do what you say you do. I said I’d be married with a child by my age ten years ago, looks like I’m pretty far off from that mark, now doesn’t it?” Ale’s face lightened as she smiled up at him. “Yeah, I’ll be married before you are at the rate you’re going.” “Pfft. Like someone would marry you.” Ale frowned instantly and pushed on his chest. “Oh! Come off it! I’m not that inept!” Patrick simply laughed off the conversation, instead choosing to nod towards the target. “Alright, alright, enough of this, we have work to be done, Ale,” His face grew serious, the smile fading as his green eyes grew intense upon his pupil. “Your stance is good, but not great you need to root yourself, like a tree, you need the stability in your arms. When shooting from a stand still, the most important thing is accuracy. Second most is being able to quickly reload if you miss—however, let’s just focus on accuracy, yeah?” He nodded for the squire to lift her bow, which she did without protest. “You’re doing that thing with your face again, Ale, stop looking like you’re about to skin me.” The young woman looked a little startled, but a moment of blinking and her eyes refocused on Patrick. “Intent but not consumed? I assume that’s where you’re getting the crazy-eye look from.” The man snapped his fingers rather jubilantly, pointing to his squire. “Exactly! Intent, but not consumed.” Ale just nodded and raised her bow again. “Continuing on….” Patrick walked around Ale before stopping to her side, prodding at her arms. “You’re too firm about your stance, how you hold the bow, yes, you need to be solid, but you’re almost strangling it,” His hands moved her arms ever so slightly. “You’re not trying to strangle a cat here,” The squire loosened her muscles, allowing them to remain strong, but not forceful. “There, you see how much smoother it is? Another added benefit, you can keep up this much longer, you’re exerting less of yourself.” He tugged an arrow free from her quiver and held it out before her face. “Try again,” A familiar smile lit his features and to it, Ale could only mirror as she took the arrow from his hands.

[Alevadra Druva]

The arrow was smoothly nocked, and held upon the shelf with her index. Her eyes narrowed upon the slash of red, taking a slow inhale through her lips, the air cold upon her lips as she pulled back a string. The thick, strong string pressed against her cheek for a moment as Ale felt the wind, taking in the direction and force as the bow shifted, her aim changing to account for the weather. Her mind emptied for a moment as her focus became that apple. Her fingers let go, her other arm bracing as the arrow shot forward. A final exhale left her as the bow lowered, brown eyes searching for where the arrow landed. The grey little fletchings stuck out from the shaft, where the arrow had pierced into the apple, clean and simple. A smile lit Ale’s face as she glanced over her shoulder to Patrick. The knight was looking at his squire with a grin, faux-applauding her as he took a step towards her, bowing his head. “See, I knew you had it in you, Morning Glory.” Patrick stated with a smile, using the nickname he’d given her. He nudged her shoulder and nodded towards the bale, taking long strides to reach it. The squire followed intently to the bale. The missed arrow was pulled out by Ale and placed back into her quiver while Patrick pulled the apple and arrow from the bale at the same time. “Ah-ha! Look at that!” He held the arrow out before Ale to look at. The arrow had gone through the apple from the top stem through the core and out the bottom. The knight took a bite of the apple, holding onto the shaft of the arrow rather than the fruit. The man took a chunk of the juicy flesh and held it out for Ale. “Mmmghhmm?” He said with a mouthful of food. Ale knew what he was saying, asking if she wanted one. Ale smiled and indulged him, taking a bite of the apple and chewing. Patrick smiled. “Ah, the rewards of a job well done. Now,” The knight held out the arrow and Ale took it and the apple while Patrick dug in his pocket to pull another apple out, followed by a second, setting both into the hay. “Now, you have to hit both of them. And fast. No dawdling between the two.” He said rather dryly, turning and walking back from where they had been standing before—20 paces away. Ale moved back to her spot, taking another bite of the apple before handing it back to Patrick—who happily accepted the fruit. Alevadra turned to face the bale, looking at the two apples, placed about a pace apart. She fiddled with an arrow, looking over the weapon for a moment before nocking it on her bow. “As soon as the first one flies… You stop thinking. Just do. Got it?” Patrick stated, munching the apple as Ale looked over at him for a moment before nodding and replying. “Right,” Her attention returned to the apples and bale, taking a few long breathes while the bow was held lightly before her waist. One, two… One, two… Alevadra had seen her mother do this before, dozens of times. Sometimes multiple objects, spread around the training center. Dead center—every time. Not matter of turning or changing directions would hinder Jasme`, she was the best archer Ale had ever seen—Even Patrick agreed with Ale in that regard. “Come on, Morning Glory, I don’t want to be waiting all day.” Daggers were shot to Patrick as Ale looked over her shoulder. “Will you please stop calling me that? I’m not just some pretty flower or whatever that means.” She snapped. Patrick gave her a shit-eating grin, crossing his arms over his chest, still holding onto the apple. “Prove it,” He challenged. She stopped thinking. Ale stopped worrying about how well or poorly she did. She let go that fear of failure, the fear of never amounting to what her mother was—what she was expected to become. The bow was lifted fluidly, her body shifting automatically with muscle memory, her fingers curled around the string, keeping the nock between her middle and index fingers. Her left hand kept the arrow on the shelf, holding the wooden bow with control force, a firm handle that wasn’t overpowering. Ale pulled the string back until her thumb on her right hand brushed her ear lobe. The wind tugged at her golden locks as her left hand moved ever so slightly to adjust for the shift in air. A moment, silence fell onto Ale as she left the string go, the arrow flying from the shelf. Alevadra didn’t search for the arrow she’d just shot, her right hand was at her back, pulling another arrow by the nock and whipping it around onto the shelf, the nock onto the string. She wasted no time lifting the bow once more and pulling the string back to her earlobe. Her thumb met her lobe and the string was released, this time, Ale lowered the bow, and searched for the arrows in silence. Even Patrick was silent, only stepping up to stand next to Ale and look at the bale. The two apples were set in the hay, one pierced through the middle, the other pierced just to the side. The sweet juice from the apples dripped down into the moldy hay, surely it would be crawling with bugs and bees in no time, attracted to the sugars. Patrick looked to Ale with a smile while the young woman’s face remain stern, taking strides towards the bale and stopping just in front of it. Patrick frowned almost instantly—he knew the issue. Ale was not pleased with the second shot. He sighed quietly before following behind her and standing next to the short woman. A long, strong arm went out and rested across Ale’s shoulders. “Don’t you dare say it, Ale, I’ll make you muck stables till your fingernails fall out.” The squire had begun to open her mouth, only to snap it shut at his threat and remain silent. “This,” He pulled the first apple from the bale, the shot that had been dead center of the apple. “Is a shot your mother would be proud of,” His face was stern and intent as he held out the apple and arrow for Ale to take—which she did. “And this,” He took the other one and held it out. The arrow was off from the heart of the apple, but still pierced the red flesh and white meat, juice trailing down the shaft of the arrow. “Is a shot that your mother would be impressed by.” Ale frowned, opening her mouth slightly to object, only to have the apple shoved into her arms as Patrick continued. “What you just did is miraculous. It was nothing short of fantastic, as much as you disagree. Archers work tirelessly to be able to accomplish that, and you,” Her poked her forehead, forcing her to look up at him. “You did it. You did it at your stage in learning. And you know what? The only one I could ever imagine being capable of that was your mother,” Patrick’s arms crossed over his chest as he smiled rather smugly. “And just like your mother—you would still be upset by the second shot.” He ruffled her hair and began to walk. “If your mother was still alive, I think you’d give her a run for her mizas, Morning Glory,” His back was to her as he headed back towards the road—and thus Stormhold. The squire cracked a smile, glancing down at the apples and arrows in her hands. Patrick wasn’t one to pet an ego unnecessarily. He meant his words. “Come on, Ale, we’re going to have to set up more targets for you to work on in the training ground! Our fun is only starting.” His green eyes were upon her and he noted the smile across her lips. The young woman shook off the pierced apples, letting them fall to the ground before slipping the arrows into her sheath, holding her mother’s longbow close to her chest as she ran to catch up with her knight. -fin-

[Radiant]

Alevadra :

Experience

Skill	XP Earned
Observation	+2 XP
Socialization	+2 XP
Rhetoric	+2 XP
Weapon: Longbow	+2 XP

Lores

Lore Earned

Ser Patrick: My Patron Knight

Morning Glory: My Nickname

Archery: How To Properly String A Bow

Longbow: Proper Aiming Stance

Loots

+2 Shield Points

Notes :

Alevadra, I love the way you write, however, you only have 6 points in Longbow skill, shooting something as small as an apple and constantly hitting them, especially with that two apple targets is not something an early novice could do, it's the mark of a Competent, or at least high novice. I know this is a controlled training situation, but still, she should fumble more. I gave you an minus one XP penalty for this, please do keep her skill level in mind for your future threads.

A novice, means she's a beginner at archery, a beginner should stall and fumble more than she did here.

That aside, enjoy your grades.

My radiance is not bright enough?

If you have any questions or concerns regarding your grade, beam me a PM and we can work it out.