Solo [Sylirs bow] A long shot (Training)

[Alexander Faircroft]

25th winter 515AV 11:08AM The cold mountain air sifted through the locks of his hair. Calm winds and soft rolling clouds met his vision as he looked skywards. The soft if cool light of syna caressing the treetops gently. Aled stepped lightly into the fields of the empty clearing. A stretch of the mountains named “Sylirs bow.” An odd same Alex thought to himself as he stepped softly on the moistened and still lightly frosted earth. Untouched for days it would seem as Alex nearly fell over himself stepping atop the edge of the bounds. Still before him he had a soft if a little craggy rock face to haul himself up…A puff of his breath escaping him the coolness of the air turning it to mist instantly. Still Alex felt, almost at peace. Soft footfalls accompanied his slow ascent of the rocky outcropping. Gripping a sure handhold wasn’t the problem it was hauling himself up the cliff face in full armour that was. Using both his legs and arms to haul himself up in the sim eighty pounds of plate mail and chainmail. A firm foot hold at the same time as a firm hand hold. With great strain his joints burning he made it to a point where he could take a firm rest. Even with the favourable slant up the cliff he wasn’t well versed with climbing let alone doing so in such weight. His “resting spot” was little more than three meters off the ground. Breathing heavily, nearly panting through exertion the rested his eight against the cliff face. The cold kiss of hard stone met his face as the burning from within the armour of his muscles began to subside. And again he began to ascend the soft slow incline. Had this been any steeper than it was Alex would have probably fallen and landed with a loud clattering. Quite possibly having broken a bone or two, knowing this Alex took the ascent slowly and with great patience. Little to his comfort about halfway up the twenty meter height of the outcropping Alex had the distinctly bad idea to glance at his feet after nearly fumbling and tumbling to the ground. The pleasant vision of the ground forced his hands tighter against the rocks as he was now simply holding and gripping the cliff face for ear sweet life. If he fell from this height with as much weight as he was carrying a broken bone would be the luckiest he would get away with. Settling his now racing heart his breaths came out with a terrified shudder to them as he ascended further still the weight of his weapons as well now beginning to set into his motions. Cresting the plateau of the cliff, Alex didn’t bother to rise from the ground. Holding his arms against the flat surface. Letting the cold embrace of the stone sink in and soothe his over exerted flesh. Oh sweet merciful gods thank you. Thank you! A smile stretched across his face as he reached up a hand to the loop of sigils. His eyes closed and his mind calmed. A soft sight parting from him. Eventually he rose. The soft soothing if tepid light of syna against his face. The lack of trees surrounding him he took look into the distance the castle within his sight but nothing discernible. Instead of immediately starting with the blasting off of arrows Alex took a short moment to find a nearby stone. Pulling off the loop of sigils around his neck and offering a small but humble thanks to each of the gods on his loop. Pausing at the five whose watchful gaze he appreciated the most. The wings of Yahal, the watchtower of Priskil, the mobius strip of Eryis, the triskelion of Caiyha and the road fork of Lhex.

[Alexander Faircroft]

Good things came to pious men. Something his father had told him long ago. Good things came to pious men. But pious men Alex had found were few and far between. Often it was simply a good man who did good things who reaped the rewards. Those unselfish and those who helped others. Sitting at the edge of the rocky outcropping Alex sighed letting out a small moment of respite as the frosty winds buffeted him. Whistling through the gaps in his plate and finding his torso. He shuddered and looked skywards, the clouds had begun to gather overhead. A cool chill settled over him as syna’s light became marred by the clouds above masking him with shade. Slipping his longbow free of his shoulders he glanced out over the out laying forest. Deep and steady breaths followed him as he lifted his bow. The one weapon he’d not been really able to practice with since joining the knights however it was far and away his best weapon.

Slipping an arrow free of his quiver he pressed the nock into the string till a small thunk hit his ears. He didn't fire, he didn't even draw. Simply letting the winds roll against him. Getting a feel for the speed, the power of the wind. Firing into nothing wasn't his preferred method of practising however he did admit he needed the practice. Still he just stood swaying lightly in the wind. The buffeting against his face and armour shilling him slowly but allowing him to feel the speed. Lifting and drawing the bow he held the shot. Anchored to his chin he held the string lightly allowing the wind to blow, tracing the wind. As it began to die down he released the shot only to have a large blast of air knock his shot wide and far off course. Flinging the arrow out into the woods off to the right. Grimacing and flinging his hand to the right he wanted to hit something to take the frustration out on something

Drawing another arrow from his quiver Alex knocked and aimed the bow. A calm wind blew until the heaviest wind yet buffeted him. His judging skill wasn’t too great still this time seeing what had happened to his last arrow he took a little on faith. Twisting his shot into the wind he waited until a heavy buffet rocked him releasing the arrow into it allowing the shot to fly off into the wind which in turn carried the shot back on course. And now Alex saw why most archers shot into the wind instead of allowing the wind to die down for a steadier shot. And now he had a yardstick. A distance to see how well he aimed against and to see exactly how much he’d improved.

[Alexander Faircroft]

Description "Alex Common" Alex thoughts "Myrian" "Fratava" "Others"

Alex sighed thinking back on the events that had clouded his past, the difficulties and challenges that had pursued him. His mother’s death, His father’s disappearance and subsequent letter announcing his death. Alex felt alone, alone and afraid, challenged and left to his own nature. He looked out over the horizon, the cool winds blowing across the plateau. He felt a shiver run down his spine. The only thing he had left to him was the small hope, the threadbare likely hood that he’d find a path to walk down. A thin line he could follow and could hold onto. Because no matter how dark the night. He could always find hope in the darkness.

He pulled another arrow from the quiver at his hip and lined up a shot with the darkening sky. Each arrow he fired he fired knowing that as he released them he’d be losing a part of his darkness. Each arrow as a piece of his past he’d never return too, and a promise of a brighter future. Forsaking ravok and everyone there in, not as people but what they believed in. Another arrow loosed, with it flew the feelings of anger against the loss of his father. Another. The feeling of being alone, he knew he had someone watching over him. As he want to fire his fifth arrow though he paused. The one point where he couldn’t just let it go. The darkness in his soul that wouldn’t leave. So instead of firing the arrow and letting it go he made a promise to himself drawing his bow string back and pulling it to his ear. I will find out who killed her. I promise this and I shall remain ever watchful and hopeful that I find answers…But I cannot promise to forgive…Nor spare them. And with that the arrow flew, splitting the air and the sky the feeling of darkness swirling within his stomach, but he could still find that thread bare strand of hope to cling too.

Nothing was lost. Nothing was ever lost until the last fool willing to fight for it fell. He exhaled slowly reaching up to the sigil of

Priskil around his neck. Amongst all the others he knew exactly where this one was and never lost it. He’d held onto it for so long and so many times. Near silently he closed his eyes and looked to the forest floor. “Thank you.” A simple word of thanks not for anything else, just the knowledge to himself that he had hope and would retain it as long as he still drew breath. Slipping his bow back over his shoulder he took a glance towards the forest floor. And paused a moment. Now how in the heck do I get down from here without breaking my neck?

[Konrad Venger]

Nice job! Your work has pleased The Sloth! Alexander XP: Climbing - 1 Observation - 3 Philosophy - 2 Longbow - 3 Lore: Philosophy: Piety is not Goodness, and Vice Versa Longbow: Gauging Wind and Grip Philosophy: Fight the Darkness Click Me! : Christ, really are getting quite a collection of totems around yer neck, aren't you? I liked this, all of it, but especially your musings and the very last line. Really let me SEE IT, and I grinned as I did. 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!