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[Amoux]

17th of Spring, 515 AV

The stained pelt was surprisingly quiet for such a lovely afternoon, with only a handful of patrons milling about and the majority visiting only to briefly duck in and out of the shop below the archery range before going about the rest of their day. Amoux actually prefered the resulting quiet, and after paying to small fee she had set her gear down and lined herself up with a target, bow in hand and quiver strapped to her belt. Archery was still quite new to her, so she took her time and settled in, not rushing herself as she went through the motions.

Toeing the shooting line, Amoux slipped her left foot forward until she was straddling the line. Breathing deeply she relaxed her shoulders, and drew an arrow from her quiver. She took a moment to nock the arrow and raised the bow to the target, mentally scolding herself when she tightened her hands on the grip. Reaching up with her other hand she wrapped the first three fingers under the arrow, keeping her pinky and her thumb tucked back and out of the way, and her index finger hooked around the string.

She straightened her bow-arm, and with a slight grunt frew the bow string back, feathers brushing at her cheek. She forced her shoulders down once more, rolling her shoulders back, ignoring the ache beginning to burn in her shoulders and arms. Letting out a slow breath she peered down the shaft of the arrow, moving slowly until the arrows point was lined with the center of the target.

Taking a deep breath she released the bowstring, snapping her fingers back and out of the way as quickly as she could. After another centering breath she lowered the bow and peered down the shooting line and at the target, quickly spotting her arrow sticking out of the lower left side of the yellow straw disk. By no means perfect or even close to the centre point, but on the target nonetheless. Amoux jumped up with a hoot and hopped up and down in a little jig, a grin splitting her face, completely disregarding the others practising at the range around her..

"Amoux's Speech" ~ Thoughts ~ "Others Speech"

[Merevaika]

Her father used to frequent the Stained Pelt on their pavillion's visits, making full use of fact that they would buy pelts. He loved the archery range too, having a go at every visit. He didn't need the practise, but he loved showing off his skills and helping those who weren't as skilled. Merevaika smiled at the happy memory, approaching the burrow like building.

The archery range was mainly empty, so Merevaika paid over the small price, stepping in beside a red head that seemed to be celebrating hitting the target. Merevaika gave her a quick smile, preparing her gear ready to shoot. Her bow hung loosely in one hand, worn but still usable.

Merevaika nocked an arrow, feet shoulder width apart. Her fingers wrapped tightly around the the bow string, drawing it back. Her gaze flitted between the bow, the arrow and the target, trying to link the three in an attempt to aim. The feather on the end of the arrow brushed her cheek, the bowstring pulled back as far as Merevaika could. Her shoulder hurt, Merevaika realising how high she held her elbow. She readjusted her stance as she lowered it, twisting a little to the side. Her feet moved, becoming more face on.

Merevaika sighed, once again struggling to find her position. Every second she spent trying, the more odd it became. With a deep breath, she released the string, wanting to start from the beginning as well as checking how the arrow flew. It was short, not by too much, but still landed in the ground underneath the target.

As if it were a walk of shame, Merevaika stumbled slowly to the arrow, retrieving it before anyone would see her failure. She shot a look at the woman beside her, hoping that she hadn't watched the embarrassing shot. Then again, if she had, perhaps she would be able to help...

[Merevaika]

"You spent a long time working on your aim before just shooting rather randomly," a voice called out behind her, an akalak walking up, shortbow in his hand. Merevaika shrugged, standing back on the target line and readied her stance, turning so her body faced the target. She hooked the arrow onto the bow string, before sending it flying, missing by quite a bit.

Next to her, the man shot perfectly, the bulls eye unmistakeable. She turned to him, annoyed. "Stop showing off and help me then!" she insisted,marching over to where he stood. The akalak shrugged, placing his bow to the side, and fetched his arrow. "Your stance is all wrong, but you draw back well," he finally said, "Get into the position again."

Merevaika turned side on to the target, her feet out wide and her bow high, arm drawn back and her chest facing the target. The akalak picked up his bow, knocking her hand down. "Lower." It then tapped her feet, and she moved them closer in, to about shoulder distance. "Good." He studied her again, pulling her elbow down a little.

"Good, except for the main part," he hit her in the stomach lightly, "Face sideways, not forward. You're aiming to far left like this, so your body contorts to try line up with the target. It means bad shots, and if you keep standing like this, it'll hurt too much."

Merevaika nodded, turning so she was fully side on, shoulder pointing at the target. "Now, hook this arrow onto the bow." Merevaika took it from him, fiddling with it a little before attaching it to the string, one finger above, the others below. The akalak made a tutting noise, pulling the arrow down a little.

"Centre of your bow. And cup your fingers more," he explained, and Merevaika listened. "Good. Now slowly bring the bowstring back and drop the arrow, stand normally." Merevaika looked at him, confused, but did so anyway.

"Now!" he shouted, signalling to Merevaika that she should get back into the position. She did so quickly, squaring her feet off, remembering not to twist, pulling the bowstring back with the arrow resting on the centre. He nodded, satisfied, moving her body into the correct position, only small movements that made her proud.

"Good. Now, the aiming."

[Merevaika]

He shifted to demonstrate, getting into the perfect position she had been trying to, and drew the string back, looking towards the target, before releasing, the arrow hissing before hitting dead centre. Merevaika look jealously at him, wishing she had that sort of skill. That was what she was here to practise, after all.

"Just have a go first, to see where you're at," he asked, and she returned to the position he had been in, anchoring her feet to the ground and notching an arrow after fumbling with it a little. She brought it up, trying to keep it touching the main part of the bow, but it shifted out of position, coming out to the side. The drykas tilted the bow, adjusting how she held the arrow, and stared at the tip, trying to line it up with the centre of the target. Her hand was unsteady and wobbled, the arrow refusing to move into position.

Eventually she gave up with trying to aim it, pulling the string back a little before releasing, watching the arrow fall short of the target.

"You're a hunter?" Merevaika nodded. She didn't like wasting time aiming when every moment it could move and she would lose another catch. "Remember, aim and shoot, rather than shoot and aim. You won't hit it if you shoot blindly." He thought for a moment, biting the inside of his mouth and firing another arrow, eyes squinted and much quicker than before.

"Instinctive firing is hard, but if you practice, it should work for you. Look down the shaft of the arrow and release once you've reached your anchor point. Just focus on the very centre and try to hit it."

Easier said than done, Merevaika thought to herself, but gave it a go just the same. Her breathing steadied, and she notched the arrow, eyes focused on looking down the shaft to the very centre. With one swift movement, she drew the string back to her cheek, and released immediately. This landed on the edge of the target, but on the target nonetheless.

"Good. Keep trying. Practice makes perfect. Don't hold your breath," he added as an after thought, and she repeated the process, concentrating hard on her breathing, breathing in as she drew the string and exhaling as she watched the arrow hit the target just left to the first shot.

"Breeze," the akalak excused for her, lifting his hand to feel it, and Merevaika copied him, licking her finger to try get a better feel of it. Yes, it was a westward breeze, pushing her arrows to the right. That's why both were to the right of the target, although the second was closer to middle. "You need to consider it. Just like when you hunt and try to get it to carry your scent away from the animal, you must note in when shooting to adjust your aim. Try aim to the other side, let's see where you get it."

She nodded, lining up to fire again. This time the bow twisted to the other side of the target, and she checked the arrow, target and arrow again, before shooting, the wooden shaft whistled through the arrow and thunking a band from the middle. Merevaika smiled, proud of her achievment

[Merevaika]

"Of course, you won't be hunting that target when it comes to it," the Akalak said, moving over to it, "You'll be crouched, on the ground, in bushes, in ditches. Here, try this." He pulled it off its stand, moving it to rest on the ground.

Merevaika nodded, aiming lower this time. Her fingers hooked around the bow string and she used her whole back to pull it, not just her arm. This arrow was the most successful yet, landing even closer to the centre. She fired another arrow after this, and another, breathing smoothly with inhales as she drew the string and exhales as she released, sending the arrow flying. These two attempts were less accurate, both skimming over the top.

Then she moved to crouch, lining up her body with the target itself. This didn't prove hard, but the very act of crouching in an upright position to hold and shoot the bow properly was taxing, her leg muscles reacting to the position. Still, she tried hard to maintain a similar position to the upright one, gaining a few helpful hints from the other archer. He guided her shots, getting her to shoot at different levels, encouraging her when it went well and instructing her when it didn't.

Every time was similar. She would take and arrow from him, get to the height he had instructed, move her feet and body in place before glancing down the length of the wooden weapon, releasing at the same moment she reached her anchor point. "Try keep your feet looser, ready to move. Don't attach them to the ground, letting them guide your shot."

When she finally stopped her knees hurt and she shook them off, ignoring the ache. The two gathered up the arrows, counting them off, searching through the surrounding bushes for any strays. Merevaika thanked him once they reached the Stained Pelt again, gesturing the pavi for gratitude, despite not knowing if he understood it. Even if he didn't, the meaning would have been obvious as it just echoed her words.

"It was pleasant for me too. Keep practising, you'll become great with enough time!" he replied, gathering up the spare arrows and his own bow, swinging the quiver over his back.

Merevaika thanked him once, before disappearing into the wild. Practice she would. But first, dinner.

[Konrad Venger]

Nice job! Your work has pleased The Sloth! Amoux Hey, love, PM me when your Winter Seasonal Expenses have been deducted and I'll hit you up with some sweet-sweet XP/Lore lovins'. Merevaika XP: Weapon: Short Bow - 4 Observation - 2 Socialization - 2 Lore: The Stained Pelt: A Family Tradition Archery: Proper Stance and Grip Archery: Instinctive Shooting Archery: Taking The Breeze Into Account The Akalak: Nameless But Skilled Click Me! : Again, a very thorough and constructive post. Shame Amoux couldn't join in the fun. Seems to be more Akalaks around Endrykas than bloody Drykas... do I detect m'lady's preference? Oh, and please make sure you go back and edit your post in the Request Thread to reflect the fact this one is now done and dusted. PM me with any questions and later 'tater!