[Flashback:Logan Tyovanil](Outskirts): Friendly Competition

[Antar]

38th day of spring, 511av

Antar was outside of Sunberth now, a good ways distant from the cesspool of burning rubbage that was the slag heap, but still he could see the smoke in the distance here slightly southeast of the city. And he'd swore to very much enjoy his day off from working at the carver brothers shop. And that meant relaxing in one of the fields closer towards the cemetery. He'd taken time to set up a few tree stumps as a target at 10, 30, and 50 meters(~150 feet) and tethered his horse closeby to enjoy the sunny weather, coupled with a bit of practice. The cliffs closeby rose tall above the waves of the eastern sea, and the stretch of baroque bay was possible with the old lighthouse far out in the distance.

All in all, it was a more peaceful day then most the city were having, but he wouldn't let anyone ruin it. It had been awhile since he had time to shoot his bow and work on his aim, but such was the ways of life in the heated city. After all, every denizen of the town knew that walking Sunberth’s streets unarmed was like walking barefoot in a swamp full of poisonous snakes. If you were a sheep, the wolves came and ripped you apart. If you were a bear, they ganged up to tear you to shreds. Sunberth was a dog eat dog world in the city, and the countryside was very similar to it. In that respects it was purer, cleaner then most other cities, even if it was a common occurrence for the roads to run red with blood now and then.

Such was the cycle of life, the hunters and the hunted. Predator and prey, and every archer worth their salt knew that in order to not be the latter, you had to have skills enough to hold off former. Such was the basis of hunting, of archery and even the tepid lifestyle of this city. It was a constant king of the hill for anyone here, but in an archers case it was a constant battle of equipment and honing of one's skills.

Facing the first target at the ten meter line Noth lined up a shot with the point of the arrow. His stance was sideways in nature, his left foot, the same side hand as he held his bow, was pointed forwards, and his right foot was perpindicular, almost in an 'L' shape as he leaned into the bow to pull back on the string. One's form was a necessary technique to practice; to improve one's footing and stance was to improve the platform the arrow was released from. But like anyone desiring perfection in their craft: practice is what makes perfect.

The arrow flew, and hit three inches off the center of the stump as a sudden playful gust of wind rolled across the field, throwing off his arrow midflight. Sighing to himself, he drew another arrow and knocked it. Accounting for the wind he raised the sighting just slightly up and to the right as he let this next one fly. It impacted about an inch and half to the left above the center of the stump.

Sighing again, he went towards his horse to get a drink from his waterskin as he spied a man moving on the nearby south road towards him. Squinting his eyes, Noth used a hand to block the sun as he tried to get a closer look at the approaching figure.

[Logan Tyovanil]

Stareing into the crystal sky he gazed at the black spires and foreboding towers of smoke that echoed through out the city. Sunbirth, more like sunblot. Strolling through the country side logan took out his straight pipe and filled it with 1/2 an ounce of tobacco, taking a tinder twig and scraping it across his face it roared into life sustained long enough for him to light the pipe. The bright orange flame gave a little bit too much heat as it tailed towards his fingers. Pushing the glasses he wore up his nose a little he smoked his pipe cheerfully breathing in smoke and letting its warm feel warm his lungs as he exhaled it from the opposite corner of his mouth. Smiling he took a few more steps the black of his boots crunching the earth beneath his feet.

Out of the corner of his eye he spied a man practicing his archery skills, his form was excellent. Though his shot had missed lightly by about three to four inches. Tough luck, suppose i should give him a little competition, better to earn a friend by besting him or leveling with him, in sunbirth than to make enemies. Being ambidextrous with the bow logan took a step to the side and slid his bow from over his shoulder, pulling up the top of the quiver against his leg he pulled out a single arrow. Notching it, he lifted the bow and took his aim standing to his left the pipe in the right corner of his mouth so the smoke would not effect his sight for the shot.

His glasses slid down his face a little, and let his keen long range vision kick in, taking aim he lined up the shot, his left foot almost parallel with his shoulder and the bow, his right foot in a almost sigma shape so as to allow him stability as he fired. Pulling back the taught string to about fifty percent, so as it was at a normal distance with a normal long bow. He let the arrow fly. As it flew it would whistle past the ear of the man who was previously firing, and the wind stayed at it's leisurely breeze.

The shot hit the first stump 2 inches from dead center but not perfect, taking his pipe out with one hand he stuffed a little more tobacco into it. Smiling his normal cheeky grin he stepped a little closer to the man, and pressed forth a conversation starter quietly, but smoothly. "Where'd you learn to shoot, you missed the target by a light margin. But then again so did i so i'm not really one to comment on that. Taking a long deep puff of his pipe he gazed forth at the stumps. Large spacing but suitable for training perhaps he could have a little competition with this man, he seemed like a good enough shot to make his deal worth while. Letting the smoke seep out of the corner of his mouth slowly and in a long stream he looked at the man to his right. The wiry and lithe frame of the man spoke nothing, but then again logan himself want exactly a fortress of a man.

[Antar]

As the man had approached, Noth could have sworn he was smoking like a boiling pot gave off steam. The animals alone could have sensed his presence for miles around if they were downwind of the pipe. As the man got closer, Noth turned his head slightly keeping one eye on the man in question, barely having the reflex to jerk his body to one side as the man's shot whizzed past about a foot from where his head had been moments before. For a moment, his hand went to reach towards the sheathe at his back where his kukri was, ready to draw and throw it into the aggressor's chest.

When the man spoke, Noth forced his hand down from the hilt, as a contest of Noth's will warred with his training to kill anyone that attacked him. For the moment, the man's voice sounded mellow, almost pleasant as he finished speaking, inquiring about where Noth had learned to shoot a bow.


He was an older man to be sure, looking in his late twenties, maybe early thirties with a mischievous gleaming green eyes. The man was a rogue to be sure, but the type and the amount of danger he represented had yet to be determined. Keeping one eye on the man Angar glanced slightly over his shoulder, with one eye Noth noticed where the man's arrow struck, just to the right of the center target at the ten meter mark. A competent shot to be sure. Turning his full attention back to the individual he noticed the longbow, it's construction was a composite one, he could tell from the sheen it had been made from layered pieces of wood, and coated in linseed oil many a time over from repeated maintenance.

Probably a man showing off, or wanting to put the fear of gods into him for one reason or another. Straightening up , he forced his eyes to relax and crinkle in simulated humorously sly smile he gazed at the newcomer."A man will learn to shoot a bow if he's hungry enough. Eating one's catch is just as important as learning how to shoot a bow as it to know when not to use it. Especially when someone's in your target line, don't you think my friend?"

He stressed the words 'not' and 'friend' as a silent warning to the man not to try such foolishness again. For now there would be no reprisal for his actions, or ill will towards him... so long as the other archer's actions remained as civil in action as Sunberthan manners might allow.

Noth wasn't vindictive enough to deny a man a strong entrance, but there was no bones about the fact he wouldn't be pushed around to another's whim. Confrontation was the last thing on his mind today. After all, he preferred his peace and quiet on his days off, as they came few and far between. But there was no doubt that he wanted the man to realize repeating what he just did was a way to get him into a shallow grave faster then he could jump into the sea. Antar wanted him to know that right down to the end hairs of his grizzled whiskers.

Noth stayed silent after that watching the man a moment longer, as he forced himself to untense his body enough to lean on his bow in a show of temperance as he waited for the man's answer to his question. His outer appearance was a facade of course as he began to gauge the stranger's reply...

[Logan Tyovanil]

"Oh aye, thats true enough, but skill is skill." Grinning his signature smirk, he glaced up and down the man. "Relax, you look tauter than my bow string." Taking the pipe from his mouth he listened to the rest of the man's statement, gauging all he could. The man was younger than himself, but had the look of someone twice his years, grizzled and haggered, looked as if he had little time for fun. Friend. Why was the word so labored ? Oh the shot mus have spooked him, well it did me th first time it happened. Logan's hand rested on his quiver, and his other hand held the bow which he had looked over one shoulder. Removing the pipe from his mouth he pushed in a little more tobacco and looked at the man again.

"Oh don't be so up tight, if i'd have wanted to shoot you i would have. Twice. One through the heart, one through the head. My signature. Every man has one in everything they do." Logan showed off the gleaming ornate hand guard of his rapier, dancing with copper and gold inlay like flames. Logan looked the mans weapon up and down, a nice sized longbow built for confrontation sturdy and strong. Logan lifted his eyes lightly to meet the mans. His green eyes of cunning and mischief speking more than he would say.

"Well my younger archer friend could i ask ? Are you a native of sunbirth ?" Logan's blonde beard caught the sun and shone like spun gold, as it squared his jaw off and brought his face to an easy smile. Drinking deep the smoke from the pipe he blew it back out from the other side of his mouth angling it down. Logan's manner was calm as if he didn't care much about what was happening. He was watching the wind currents blow the smoke from his pipe as he softly looked around. Pushing up his glasses he got a better view of the mans face. Blue eyes, long white hair. Gods, he's like a younger, paler, tenser version of me. Logan smiled as he out stretched his hand emptily in a gesture of pleasentries.

"Sorry about the arrow thing, not the best way to start things of but byfar one of the showier things. I'm logan, yourself?" Logan never did anything with anyone without at leask knowing their name. A sign of courtesy as well as a memento. The wind picked up light and his loose shirt blew a little as the red sash that was tied around his waist belw lightly into the breeze. "Little word of advice my friend. If your gonna shoot arrows, have something on you that you can use to read air currents. It helps a lot." He'd deliberately stressed the word friend in similar fashion to the man before him as if to portray the fact he wasn't meaning any harm, but his smooth voice let it sound almost calming in effect. Taking another long lungful of smoke he breathed it out again this time lightly into the breeze to let him know the direction of the air.

Logan always loved to gamble, loved to know the odds and loved to know when he was sure of victory but, he'd oft let his opponent think they'd won first. Then he'd pounce throwing forth his victory and claiming his prize. But the key and the point was to get his opponent to first accept the gamble which he knew he'd win.

[Antar]

Noth shrugged a bit, as the man in question attempted to justify his brash action with the word 'skill'. Whether the man wanted to shoot him or not was irrelevant to the point. One could basically say that even the most skilled archer in existence was opt to make a mistake once in a while. Only training and strict adherence to the basics would allow one to not do something that they might regret for years.

As the man continued about his signature in all things, Noth simply smirked a little as he realized the differences between them were already becoming apparent. He lived by an old creed that any time you took a life, you didn't do anything deliberately similar to a time you killed before, in Sunberth that was a good way of gaining renown, and if one wasn't careful or prepared enough: renown made you dead. Still, from reading the stranger’s body language, Noth did un-tense a bit as he noted the mischief gleaming in the man's eyes.

When asked if he was a native of Sunberth he merely shrugged a bit and waved a hand to ward off any further questions about his past as he smiled congenially at the spirit (if it was feigned at least) of the man's apology. He did concede some small amusement as the man returned the accentuation upon the word 'friend' and made a slight nod of his head before beginning to speak. "Well, Logan, good Ser. You may call me "Ant" or "Anthony" whichever you prefer. As for testing the winds, you are correct it is good to carry something upon oneself to test them, however it's even better to choose something more ... discreet... then a pipe. At night the ember of the burning tobacco might give away your position, and in the day the rising smoke would betray you if you are shooting from cover." His mind did not add the words: 'or if you are trying to sneak up on a quarry, be it animal or otherwise you are hunting.' So he blithely continued on without pause."I prefer a more... natural ... method to judge the wind."

Putting words into action Noth scooped to grab a handful of grass before standing up straight to release it as another bay breeze wafted into the field. Just to make his point clear, he then shrugged and licked his thumb to hold the spit-dampened appendage into the breeze. There were other less apparent ways to test the wind, including the edge of his cloak , or a bit of inspired use of reimancy, but he wasn't about to tell Logan that, instead he continued. "So, my fellow archer. What brings you halfway towards the woods and the cemetery today? Or did you come out here just to shoot things randomly? I know this area pretty well but I can certainly say I haven't seen you around before. Perhaps you like to join me for a few rounds of archery?"

Noth reached up to scratch his head a little sheepishly, "I warn you I don't bet anything like money or any other sort of gambling."

[Logan Tyovanil]

"While it's true there are other less, exposed methods of reading the wind. However i prefer my pipe when i'm just playing about, when it's serious business i let my sash do it for me." Pushing ever more little bits of tobacco into the pipe he plaed it back into his mouth and stroked his beard. Anthony, eh? Well it could be useful to have a man who knows his way around the place, as a friend. Though in sunberth if you don't have a lot of friends you tend to die, or so i'm told.

Running his eyes across the skyline , the blight blue of hue of the midday sky was severed into sections by the, ominous black towers of smoke. Flicking his cunning green eyes back towards the stumps, he patted his quiver with one hand. Stroking his beard l;ightly he looked at anthony as the next sentence rolled out. No bets for money, well wasn't gonna wager that anyway. Taking a deep puff of smile he let it trail out gently and watched it dance on the wind, letting him know how to do what he was planning.

Making his relaxed posture further relaxed. "Well, anthony, hw about a friendly competition. Simple enough wager you win i'll walk on and leave you be. I win you show me around the city, fair wager ?" Smiling his grin, he pushed the glasses up his nose and drank deep the smoke of the pipe, letting it fall through his teeth as ne grinned a little. Gambling, it's an art form if your good, you make a lot. If your bad you loose a lot. And i intend to win big. Logan knew that his bow coudl should little over double as far as the long bow but to make it fair he would only pull it back half drawn, to make the shots fairer.

Letting the sun catch his green eyes of un and mischief he looked into ant's blue eyes, which made him think. This really is quite scary anthony looks truly like younger version of me, perhaps a little, no a lot colder, but still he has the look of a man who knows wht he's doing.

[Antar]

Sighing in exasperation, Noth shrugged and listened to the fellow as the silent battle of wits and will wore on between them. He was a bit unsure about the wager, even if it was a friendly one. Too many times 'showing someone' or 'being showed' around Sunberth's city proper meant following them to a place where you were bound to be mugged, or a place you had your friends set up to do the mugging. Noth wasn't sure he held that much trust for a man who almost took his head off with an arrow before. It was a bit of an uneven risk just to get oneself into a situation where you were over your head. Friends in Sunberth did not come eay… they had to be earned.

He judged the man’s capabilities silently, wondering if the man thought he had the edge. The only advantage between a composite longbow, and a normal one was the extra range a composite provided- up to about 50 meters more, to a distance over the normal 280m a longbow could get, just about out to 840ft for a normal longbow, and about 990 feet for a composite . Even though both were basically tied for the effective accurate range out to a hundred and twenty meters, 360 feet. Anything beyond that would take a Master of the their craft with a large bit of luck involved to pull off such a shot against a single opponent.

It wasn’t like a composite bow came linked with a series of pulleys and gadgets to help its flig- Noth decided to put that idea on back burner, as he shook his head to dismiss such random thoughts. If the man wasn’t trying full draw on each shot, the slight power increase wouldn’t benefit him at all at a ten meter, thirty meter, or fifty meter target which were the effective lengths of most combat shots unless one archer was shooting en masse with a line of others.

That was where max distance and line tactics came into use in their line of work. Line tactics used the less accurate longer ranges to hurl multitudes of of arrows down upon an enemy force. Sometimes with a deadly hail thick enough to blot out the sun. And with a release rate of ten or more arrows a minute a dedicated group of expert archers working together could decimate an incoming force if they were in a fortified position with some height. That was just basic tactics and applied strategy on how the ability of an archer of any sort, crossbow, shortbow, longbow or otherwise could help turn the tide of any large engagement.

The crossbow was a bit different in that it was simple to use, and accurate up to about forty meters, which meant inside that distance, if you were using a composite , or a regular longbow- it was anyones game of who reacted first and faster.

Shaking his head slightly to clear his thoughts, Noth noticed the man playing with the string of his bow, probably wondering a myriad number of things. Foremost of which might be if "Anthony's" silence was a bad thing that foreboded trouble. With that thought in mind, Antar deemed it time to speak. Noth pointed to the man before turning his hand over to slowly bring forth his words with pauses between the sentences as if he was thinking things through thoroughly before speaking to the man,"Tell you what, Logan. If you win, then I'll consider simply telling you the main parts of the city you should stay away from in order to ensure you don't wind up a head shorter. The first bit’s free: keep out of Stumble Alley. Bad things tend to happen there. And if I win… You treat me to a brew and I show you a small portion of the city. The relatively wonderful Pig’s Foot Tavern.”

[Logan Tyovanil]

Logan was in, the competition usually meant making a friend. Taking another puff of his pipe he looked back at ant and his bow. Pushing his glasses up again he let out a cheeky frin and thought to himself. Bingo. No matter what happens now i'll turn this to my advantage. Pulling his bowstring a little testing the taut strong he looked over at the targets, the distance was the same but he didnt want to break any arrows so he'd fire at half power. Taking a short troll to and back from the stump he retrieved the arrows, and smiled. "Tell ya what show me the locations or tell me which ever you prefer and we'll wager a brew on the shots sound like a fair wager?"

Lightly throwing the mans arrow back to him he notched his but didn't fire. Stuffing a little more tobacco into his pipe he flicked his eyes lazily to the target and sighed as he exhaled the smoke. His bow he knew could shot a good distance but with the distance marked out the actual make of the bow meant nothing. All that mattered was accuracy and bow make played nothing on that. "three shots each stump, who ever is closest to the center of the bulls eye takes that stump as one win. In other words you need 2 stumps to win." Mischievous, lazy, fun and calculating. Logan was all those things and more, but he'd only let people he knew see the more unscrupulous side of him.

"Age before beauty i suppose, so i'll take first shot." Drawing his bowstring back he took no particular stance bow on a forty five degree angle, sideways. Logan drew back the bowstring to three-quarters, the way up his arm allowing for wind speed with the smoke from his pipe ha calculated it mentally to be about two knots. Adjusting his shot to compensate he launched his arrow true and straight but, just before impact it got struck by a strong gust and landed two inches left of the center.

"Tch. Wasn't a bad shot could have been better but meh, your turn." Kicking up a small box, he sat down smoking his pipe in a care free manner as he was accustomed. Logan examined ant carefully waiting watching looking at his stance when he took it awaiting some small flaw he could exploit. Grinning lightly, he leand over and held his head in his hands watching. Waiting...

[Antar]

Noth smiled a little and replied to Logan’s question, ” Good, shot, but don’t worry about the arrows breaking. It’s all good to shoot full force, and I’ll take that wager, but only one drink for the winner. I’m not anywhere made of money I’m afraid. In fact, to switch it up, why don’t we switch bows for the last target, that way we can each be a fool in trying a new type of bow.”

Thinking positively about things, Antar centered his focus and began the steps he conducted for every shot he took. The targeted stumps he had set up were made of fir, and he’d wet them down beforehand to ensure less of a chance of arrows ‘bouncing’ as they would in harderwoods from leaf trees. As long as the shot was straight on, a common longbow arrow with a mixed soft and hardwood shaft would have very little chance of breaking. Taking a side stance, square to the target mad the archer breathe easy for a few moments as he relaxed with one of his feet on each side of an imaginary shooting line to the ten meter target. With his feet shoulder width apart, he evened the weight he applied to each foot in order to keep himself as steady as possible.

Drawing an arrow from his quiver he pinched the shaft in between his thumb and forefinger about three inches above the fletching as he held his bow parallel to the ground. With a short bit of pressure he brought the knock back firmly to push about the string, with the shaft placed on the carved in rest of the bow’s handle.

Turning his right hand at the wrist he curled the index, middle and ring finger around the bowstring so that the first joint of all three were aligned with the cord. He paid extra attention to keeping a small space clear between the index and ring finger in order to ensure they weren’t touching the knocked arrow. Pinching the arrow in this regard was a sure signal of impending complications with one’s shot, and constant training ingrained this into Noth’s head more than a set of engraving tools, or a tattoo ever could. The back of his hand was relaxed as he tucked the thumb of his hand to his palm. A slight pull, was setting the next stage for the pre-draw as it kept the arrow knocked and ready as he took a moment to adjust his left.

Easing into a “Y” grip his left hand was steadied on the bow's central grip, the thumb and fingers remaining slightly relaxed with the base of the thumb muscle resting on the central line of the bow. He took a fraction of a second to stay this way before easing their curl around the wood until the tips held the bow in a gentle clasp. All the better to stop the bow from flying from his hands after the release.

Pushing out with the bow arm, he set his hand position upon the grip, straight almost perpendicular to his body as he twisted the bow almost one hundred and sixty degrees to keep the weapon in line to the target. There was a slight angle to the cross piece of the bow to the ground, but Noth never let it stray over thirty degrees in this particular stance. Angling the bow greater angles was required for kneeling stances or if you were going to attempt to shoot on horseback.

Bringing his right elbow up level with his chin prepared him for the draw as he used his shoulder muscles to pull the string back far enough to let the thumb of his right hand rest lightly against the jaw. He accomplished this with help from pushing the bow with his left hand, letting his body ‘lean in’ to help pull back on the string while keeping the body and head as still as possible.

Noth knew from experience- you had to hold , shoot, draw, aim, in a consistent a manner as possible to keep your shots steady. But now was the time for the aiming portion of his shot, so he watched as a steady western wind played across the grass, coming from the shores of baroque bay as he checked the anchor on his shot. Translating the thumb fully away from skin contact he allowed the index finger to stay firmly in place at the chin with the first knuckle as much in line with his nose as possible to ensure the slightest of variances in his shot. The relationships of all these things intertwined to create consistency, both in the shot and draw length as well as acting as the primary sight of which one could take aim from the tip of the arrow, not the shaft.

Knowing that importance of consistency , he held the tension in the muscles of his back as he began to sight. Using the knotted bole of wood in the fir trunk as his center of mass, Noth began to make his adjustments, noting the slight blur of the string as a blur as he aligned the bow and the string in as parallel of a position as possible. He knew a bad shot was in the make if the bow was tilted away, but everything appeared in order. Habit forced him to double check himself at this point, and he noted a slight tension of the arrow on the knock, contact with his skin. A sure sign the arrow had moved slightly on the draw. Rather than releasing the arrow, he slowly released the tension in the line to begin the process all over again.
If he had released the string with even a minute thing off in his form, then the flight path of the arrow would have suffered. Granted he was not perfect, no archer ever would be completely perfect in their shot, but constant practice of the basics would help one improve over time.

Going through the motions again, the former assassin re-knocked the arrow, adjusted the position of his hands and leaned to draw back and anchor the bow. When he was back on the aim, the rogue double checked everything all over again, even the direction of the wind. During this time Antar noticed a slight change in the grass, being dampened down towards the fieldline a bit more forcefully then before, thus showing him the need for a greater bit of adjustment in his aim. Moving his aim slighty up and to the right to account of the effect of the wind upon his shot, he held his aim steadily and kept his lungs as relaxed without breath as possible. Even slight shoulder movements from inhaling and exhaling were small clues of what would affect one’s aim. It was a state of concentration that allowed Noth to zero in on his target to make the shot count.

On the most critical step now, Antar released the arrow, allowing the fingers on the bowstring to gently slip free of the string, not plucking or changing the vibration of the cord, but letting the bow do most of the work at directing the released energy. The audible twang that at the moment, consumed all of his hearing as he let the arrow fly. His right hand came back about half an inch from the leftover muscle tension in his shoulders. He held that position, keeping his arms and head steady, until the dull thunk of the arrow hitting the fir trunk came back to both their ears. This follow through, was crucial as one’s shot was most likely to veer off course at the moment the arrow began its flight. Even moving one’s head a slight fraction of an inch could throw off the arrow’s course by six inches or more.
He stayed for a moment relaxing as he considered the location of where the arrow hit. It was close to Logan’s prior shot, but he was unsure which was closer. Calling out, “Check Fire” as an ingrained response to safety, Noth waited a few moments to be sure Logan wasn’t going to shoot him in the arse before striding out to the target.

The arrow was imbedded firmly in the fir stump, and was just a thumb and a half width’s closer to the inside of the central bole of the wood. Taking his knife in his right hand he placed the point of the blade into the fleshy wood of the fir, he marked the positions of both the shots with small “X’ and signified whose shots were whose with a scrawled “L” and an “A”. Putting the knife away, he placed his left hand on the side of the arrow in a “L’’ shape, holding it firmly against the wood as he placed his right hand about an inch away from the head at the end of the shaft as possible. With a slight tug, it came away clean, with very little wear on the head itself, due to the type of tree being used.

He did the same for Logan’s arrow, pulling them both out before taking out his water flask to wet the wood down one more time in order to better ensure the arrows stuck. Turning back towards the bearded man, Noth silently returned the other archers arrow and softly spoke, “Your shot. Since you’re so concerned about breaking arrows, at least this way we don’t run the risk of breaking one with another shot. Don’t you think?”

Pleased that his shot was at least nominal Noth ruminated a moment in his thoughts as he waited patiently for the other man to shoot again. The steps of every shot were the same, they had to be for consistency for the times upon which it truly counted. But he knew there were slight variations in every archers stance due to the different body types every bowman possessed. The only common thing among them was the sheer notion that myth saying that archers were weak was dispelled by the sheer fact of how many pounds of pressure it took to successfully draw back on the corded line of bowstring.

No archer was weak, no archer's stance was exactly the same. It was merely how much of an adjustment they had to make for any infirmities or different body types they possessed, it was just one fact of the profession. That was all. It didn't really need to be thought about on a conscious level. Most archers serious about their craft just understood such a thing instinctively.

[Logan Tyovanil]

"Yeah why not switch it around, after all it's the same bow and if your gonna shoot that god perhaps i better improve." Logan still had a few tricks up his sleeve. Firstly the arrows he were using were oak strong but heavy where he had 2 other types on him 20 of them were balsa, flexible and allowed drift with wind currents but wouldn't break upon hitting target. Second type of arrows were elm, darker and much lighter but just as strong. Then there was his bow he's only been drawing at one-third full pull. then there was his stance he had multiple ones for different effects. An archer must have at least 2 different stances if he wanted to survive with just the bow.

Shot number two, he's a hairs breadth closer then me time to hit the bulls-eye. Taking off his glasses and slowing his breathing with the smoke he let it trail out slowly, Lifting the arrow slowly letting the wind flow around him, he closed his eyes slowly and just let the world feel still. Notching his bow and arrow he placed his index finger above and his middle finger below it. Letting the arrow hang loose he felt the bladed tip of it rest against his knuckles as he drew it back, this time he drew the string back to his chin. Holding firm he opened his eyes slowly staring at the stump. arm perfectly straight legs and feet pointed in line his stance perfectly parallel to the bow.

Digging his heels into the soft earth beneath him he pressed hard on his right foot which stood before him. Leaning back a little to compensate for the strength of the bows launch . He opened his eyes wide and took in everything, Looking up he listened, the roll of the breeze and a smooth quiet bird call as he held his stance for what seemed like an eternity. Letting nothing distract him he stared straight at the stump arm steady as the arrow flies. Green eyes glinted in the sun light and shine just like jewels.

Letting the smoke tell tail of the wind he adjusted accordingly to cope with the four knot wind and then sliding his fingers smoothly off of the string he let it fly. The sharp tail wind flowed behind blowing the smoke back into his face. the gentle sound of the wind rolling was broken with the dull thud of the arrow slamming into the stump and only a few millimeters away from they bulls eye. His glasses didn't impair his vision, they helped at close vision but logn range his vision was impeccable. Sighing he looked at the arrow as he slid his glasses back on. "Tch. So close yet so far." His smarmy grin grept back onto his face. as he flicked his eyes back over to ant. "How about this, a brew bought each but this dictates who buys the first round ?"

This is a man after my own heart, perhaps hes make a good man to know. Looking at ant a thought crossed his mind as he relaxed letting his back snap slightly making him feel more rested. "Anthony? Is there anyplace a man could get some work around here ?" Logan was just trying to make conversation to make the time flow easier. Smiling he reached for his water skin and toot a llong drink.