Watch Carefully [Flashback, Solo]

[Xalet]

33rd of Winter, 509 AV

Xalet looked down at the makeshift target crafted at the base of a large tree trunk, one of many that had taken root just outside of the gates of Syliras. Upon it rested an "X", carved with some effort from the blade resting upon his side. The skill that set peasant crossbow users from the elite was the ability to keep a steady aim while atop a horse. Xalet had long since attempted to perfect the ability but still felt himself far from his goal. Although he had reduced the fear the equines loaned to squares felt of him he could always tell their hesitance in allowing him to mount atop their backs.

Click...click...click... came the sound of the cranequin as he cranked the lever attached to the rear of his heavy crossbow, Xalet's breath making faint wispy smoke from his mouth each time he exhaled. The large instrument was too unwieldy to load without the iron device that hung from its carved wooden butt. With each crank of the handle the goat's foot upon the end of the device brought the string ever closer to a full cock, until finally it rested upon the release. Reversing the crank and pulling it away, Xalet allowed his dominant hand to grip the crossbow, while his left held the reins tight.

"Hyah!" he shouted to his steed, the heels of his feet pressing against the mounts side, causing the creature to start forward, picking up speed until it was near a full stride. Slowly he brought the sight of the crossbow up while attempting to keep himself firmly atop the horse. His left eye closed as his right strained to keep the large "X" level with the shaft of his bolt. Pulling his second and third finger back across the trigger the string snapped forward, firing the bolt toward the target. The projectile skipped past the tree trunk and sailed onward into the heavy brush.

[Xalet]

Finding a moving target around Syliras to shoot at wasn't easy. Most folks didn't take kindly to being used as target practice. Not that Xalet ever would do such a thing, of course. To shoot on the run was a good way to simulate the problems with keeping the sight upon the target, and doing it in conjunction with riding a horse was killing two Knightly requirements with one stone. The akalak knew his skill with either of the two talents was not anywhere near what would be required of him one day as a true Knight. With a great deal of his time devoted to physical training and studying of Knightly lore, those few instances were he had time all to himself were perfect for moving forward toward his ultimate goal.

Pulling back on his reigns, Xalet had his mount come to a slow trot and then finally halted the beast. Lifting his heavy crossbow back upward he slid the goat's foot back into place and began turning the cranequin toward the string. Once set he loaded his second bolt back into place. All the while the squire thought about what it was that made him miss his target. When squeezing the trigger with one hand, his wrist would involuntarily flex, sending his line of sight turning slightly to the left. As a result, it seemed he would always shoot wide of his target.

With all things, with enough practice he could take into account his small muscular inconsistencies. Or...he could attempt to remove his hand from the reigns and attempt to stay upon his horse with just his legs. No, best not to try that yet. Getting his horse back up to a gallop, Xalet strained to keep his arm as steady as possible while riding across the field, horizontally sighting the tree. With a click the bolt hissed through the air and struck low, just where the dirt met the lowest part of the trunk.

[Xalet]

"Whoah." Xalet grunted to his mount, the horse kicked it's forward feet up into the air with the akalak quite appreciative that he had chosen to keep one hand on the reigns. Moving past the target at a slow trot he spun the speckled horse in a circle, getting a good look at where his bolt had struck. With the back of his hand he lifted up his visor, taking one of the many obstacles away from his practice. Perhaps without the narrowed forward vision of the visor he could concentrate more on hitting a more precise target.

With a ready hand he began cranking his crossbow for the third time, his horse becoming restless beneath his weight. That was often the way of creatures bred for such things. "I can do this." he reassured himself, sliding a bolt into the cocked crossbow, resting the contraption upon his shoulder. Moving outside of his typical range, Xalet raised the crossbow upward, the muscles in his arm flexing to keep the thing level with his eye. Slowly bulking muscles contracted against the weight of the heavy crossbow, gravity pulling it justly downward toward the ground.

Barking his order at the horse the two took off, straight ahead, no more coming at his target from the side, best to work with something simpler first. Dealing with a target as it moved horizontally was too much for him, given the added difficulty of the vertical jumbling of being on horseback. "No...not yet...now." he thought, his hand echoing the assessment of his mind, the bolt snapping forward and burying itself into the very bottom of the "X", sticking out from the trunk at an awkward angle.

[Xalet]

The large squire bounced in his saddle as his horse finally came to a stop, those hooves making large indentations in the soft snow. Releasing the reigns Xalet tossed one foot over the side and slid down onto the ground, bending at the knees to view the strike of his most recent shot. For once it was on target, or at least it hit the trunk as it was meant to. Looking up at the middle of the "X" allowed Xalet a close inspection of just how far off he was from a bulls-eye, almost an arms length. That was no good, especially at this distance.

With a bit of a sigh the young akalak stood up, contemplating some of the things his Patron had told him. Ways to reduce jerking the arm or keeping his concentration while not losing a hold of his surroundings. Tunnel vision was a dangerous thing in combat, you could see your target clearly, but at the exclusion of nearly everything else.

His armor creaked slightly as he stood, the various plates rubbing together, a few flurries falling down upon him, sliding off his pauldrons or simply melting altogether before they were in this world too long. With the strap of his crossbow over his shoulder he shuffled it slightly to the side so that he could re-gain his position atop his horse. Clicking his tongue he urged the equine away from the trunk, rocking slightly in the saddle as he worked the cranequin back into place, pulling that string to sit upon the block prepared with the trigger.

[Xalet]

Time passed. The sky was filled with overcast clouds, blocking any clear indication of the sun. Not even its fiery outline was visible past the thick grey barriers that stood in the way. Light permeated downward, but it was difficult to tell exactly what time of the day it was. The only thing that registered well was times of less light, and times of more light. Xalet kept track of the time not by the placement of the sun, but by the number of bolts he fired at the tree. Two, then four, than ten. Crossbow training was slow going. His Patron had taught him the basics, how to hold the weapon, how to dry it, how to fire it. The rest was up to him.

She had told him he had to find a peace within the weapon. A forceful nature was not required with the crossbow, as it's strength was always steady. You did not need ferocity in your attacks, as it's bolts always flew the same. Instead you needed to concentrate on the very basics of combat. Breathe, relax, stay focused. Keep a steady hand, but keep your grip light. Use a slow, controlled pull of the trigger. Keep breathing. Xalet imagined it much like gardening, something his mother had tried to teach him in the past with little success.

Whether or not Human's surrounded him at all times, Xalet was an Akalak. He needed a way to express his inner struggles. Something to keep him sharp and steady. As a Human his mother once believed that the peaceful nature of flowers and plants held with them a magic that could keep his mind at ease. However, an Akalak needed a challenge, a purpose. They needed something to strive toward, something with which to prove themselves. Xalet had never been a part of the Akalak ceremony into adulthood, and carried no Lakan. Instead, becoming a Knight was to be his ascention into adulthood, and with each squeeze of the trigger he dedicated himself to moving closer to that goal. He had to make his mother proud, he had to make Priskil proud, he had to make himself proud.

The trigger clicked and those bolts slowly grew closer to the center, as if swayed by some unnatural force.

[Xalet]

Things were starting to come together, but not at the expense of time. Time had passed, Xalet could tell, as the light that had covered the snow was dimming. Though spotting the exact position of the sun was impossible the squire could tell the ambient temperature of the surroundings had changed. The soft light of the cold began to fluctuate slightly before his eyes as he was one of the few races that could view the infrared spectrum. Xalet had to squint and carefully look for the "X" he had scratched into the wood now. As the cold infected everything around it the differences between objects began to blur together, making navigating a bit difficult.

Beneath him the heat of his horse radiated around to the surrounding air. The places where his breath touched caused a slight wavering in the surrounding air. Had he not been wearing his gauntlets the places his hands gripped the crossbow would have been highlighted. It was all something he had a lifetime of experience with, although to those with more simplistic vision would have most likely had a difficult time dealing with the amount of thermal information given by the environment.

He had to admit, working with a mount made him much more comfortable in firing from a moving position. Enough practice would allow him to slowly prepare for the bumps in a horse's stride as it moved. He could tell from the slow grouping of bolts that he was beginning to understand the value of working with the weapon. It responded the same with each pull of the trigger, but understanding where to look down the bolt at the target and when to squeeze was something of an acquired skill.

Another hiss, the bolt slid past the groove of the crossbow and cut through the air. The cold tip of the head streaked through the air across Xalet's vision. He'd learned to keep his eyes on the target despite the jostling of the crossbow just as it fired. Reflex made him want to look past the sight to see where the bolt had landed, but often that was enough to turn his trajectory every so slightly. His wrist relaxed now, as tired as it was. The draw of the trigger was slow and deliberate, exactly as it needed to be in order to increase his own accuracy. Though Xalet was originally reluctant to learn such a weapon he had to admit to his Patron, the creation of wood and metal was deadly.

[Xalet]

His horse was getting tired. He was getting tired. It was nothing like the heavy lifting he was accustomed to, but the constant pressure of cranking the crossbows string backward made his arm sore. That repetitive movement, the pressure of the saddle beneath him for most of the day, it simply tired out his body without really doing anything physically exhausting. Another bolt left his crossbow, this one skipping off the ground before spinning end over end into the snow. His shots were getting worse, he had reached his limit.

The darkness was prevalent now, and the cold was amplified with no shielded sun to fight it back. With a groan Xalet jumped off from his horse, his boots heavily hitting the ground beneath him. Powdery snow exploded outward. The flurries had stopped now, and instead it was just cold and silent. The winter brought with it an eerie quiet. It was a time where Xalet's elongated ears could only pick up the faint howling of the wind.

He stepped forward toward the tree, trying to look over the various patterns he had made with his strikes. Each time his hand wrapped about the shaft of a bolt, he gave it a quick jerk rearward in an attempt to remove the projectile from the tree. Some came free, some broke at the head. He would have to find a softer material to practice with once outside the gates, lesson learned. His horse snorted behind him, perhaps requesting in his equine way to go back to the warmth of the stables, a request that Xalet was happy to oblige after he tucked the last remaining bolts into his pack.

[Templar]

Xalet: Carving: 1 - Weapon (Heavy Crossbow): 5 - Riding (Horse): 4 Lore: Shooting from Horseback (Basic) Additional notes: Good simple training thread. Feel free to PM me if you feel I was ungenerous.