A fletching's bow

Loxcia takes a trip into the mountains

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Center of scholarly knowledge and shipwrighting, Zeltiva is a port city unlike any other in Mizahar. [Lore]

A fletching's bow

Postby Loxcia Campo on July 10th, 2021, 1:27 pm


2nd of Summer 521 A.V
Zastoska Mountiains

The sun had not yet shown itself when she had awakened and tiredness almost made her late but by Laviku's grace Loxcia managed to ready herself in time to catch the first wagon up into the forest area known as the Zastoska Mountains. Recently she'd quit her job. Not necessarily quit but also had not shown up since her first day and the shenanigans it inhabited. A smirk on her face a chuckle in remembrance of a brief moment in that day. The scaly tailed woman who moved as a ghost in a gown that was obviously too big for her frail body.


A murmur slipping from her mouth as the wagon rocked her and its other passengers back and forth. Loxcia not being the friendliest of people paid them no mind. No more than a quick glance to look them over so she at least knew who she was riding with. The driver an average looking man, skin sun-kissed from multiple trips. She hadn't seen his eyes being he was focused on the route to their destination. He wore a cap that hid what she assumed brown locks from the fuzz around the edges of the cap seams. Attire matching the profession he made conversation with the other passengers.

There were three other people all male, one of them with extra appendages protruding from his sides. The eldest of them a wrinkled man whose voice did not match his physical appearance. Gray hairs and the rasp on his voice dictated his age, but his body was just as tender and beefy as the next young man. He seemed very friendly and welcoming to the bunch. She wasn't sure if names were shared, and if they were then she missed it, but his gray locks jostled about with the heavy laughter that escaped from him.

The next man was of average height and build but toned to a point. His hair short, oily, messy. He said the least of the trio but had a grin in his face as to be holding back a cough. The last and most unique of the bunch was the very tall, very tan, four armed man adorned with a bun atop his head. Both sets of arms lay crossed upon his chiseled body. She remembered seeing a few woman with similar features on slave ships. Normally they were forced to dance and entertain slavers almost always in the nude. She wondered if he knew about this, how some of his kind were being treated. The thought of the abused slaves began to anger her and her thoughts went to consume her mind. An obvious unit on her brow.

"Are you alright there miss?"

The elder asked a kind smile still sitting comfortably. There were stubble marks upon his lip. He still shaved, only leaving the beard outlining his head. The konti looked a bit bewildered at the question almost not realizing that she must have been lost in thought.

"You look as if you're about to sprout wings and fly."

"Don't think it's not possible. This is Mizahar." The four armed man chimed in. The middle man chuckled before repositioning himself.

"Yea you are right. Especially those Ziths. Nasty petchers." The old man started back. "I mean no disrespect to the people, but they are ruthless. I can recall four times in my life I've seen a zith pick someone up, never to be seen again."

The men made another quick round of banter and laughs before attention was brought back on her.

"So what brings you up to the mountains Miss?"

She didn't want to answer the question, but seeing how she would be stuck with them for the entirety of the trip and they were going to the same place anyways, she gave in.

- I came to train with my weapon. She answered short. A quick tilt of the head to the bow resting between her back and the seat. It felt good saying that something was hers. It gave her a sense of worth. The men looked it over trying to gauge it from the portion they could see.

"That's a longbow. Are you any good with it?" the messy haired man chimed. There was an unspoken agreed pause from the group. Every surprised that the man had finally spoke an actual sentence. Then Loxcia heard what he'd said. Her face instantly scrunched.

"My apologies I did not mean to offend." The man retreating his question realizing the offense taken. Loxcia relaxed the lines in her forehead. It was an innocent question. That would be like asking a chef if they could really cook. Just because she had the equipment didn't mean that she actually knew how to use it. She understood his perspective.

- I am pretty competent. She answered trying to give a friendly smile. The man accepted it.

"I've never been a fan of ranged weapons. I prefer to be in the action." The multi-armed man chimed.

"Ah I remember when I was that young and naïve." The elder man cut in.
"The bow is actually a very versatile weapon. It's only a staff with a string."

"All weapons are just an extension of the wielder." Messy hair man noted.

" Depending on the wood you're using too, you could really get other uses from it too. Use a heavier wood to make a heavier bow that good for blunt strikes. Or even a lighter bow with a blade on the end and swing it like a sword." The old man waving his arms in the air mimicking an attack.

"What's its name?" Four arms asked.

-Excuse me?

"Your weapon, what's its name? To hone any craft you need to make a connection with your tools."

"The youngin is right about that. Good ole Samantha is waiting for me at the mill yard sharp as ever. Ready to chop down timber. "

Loxcia never thought about that. A memory of her last bow, the one taken by the slavers, her first bow. She did love that weapon. She could recall almost every notch and nick that was engraved into it's body from seasons of practice. She pulled it from behind her inspecting it's elegance. It was a composite bow. Lighter, stronger and more durable than it's average counterpart. It was a good bow. Still in mint condition. Never fired as far as she knew.

"That there is a decent bow." The elder confirmed.

The wagon made a hard jolt before coming to a rocky stop.

"We're here. In about five chimes I'll be heading back down towards the city. Have a good work day fellas. Good luck to your training miss." With a goodbye and a wave she followed the three men off the back of the wagon and began to take in her surroundings.
Loxcia Campo
Posts: 36
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Joined roleplay: March 19th, 2021, 11:47 pm
Race: Konti
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