And let the sky grow dark [Solo]

[Mealla Stormsong]

58th Summer, 512 A.V. A long bow and a strong bow, And let the sky grow dark. The nock to the chord, and the shaft to the ear, And a foreign king for a mark! Mealla cursed as the arrow missed its target for the hundreth time that morning, flying wide to sink itself deeply into the ground beyond. She lowered her shortbow, cursing again. She was almost tempted to give into her childish side and throw a fit and stamp her feet, but she resisted, biting down on her lip instead. It had been hours since she’d first started, and she’d yet to hit the target, much less its centre, much to her despair. How hard could it be? Impossible, it seemed, though the target was hardly what one could call difficult. It was one she had found and borrowed (it would be back before they missed it), dragging it out some distance from the pavilions, where no one could watch as she practiced.It was a large circle made from dried grass woven together, and supported on a frame. A child could not miss it, but apparently she could. Arrows peppered the surrounding grass. Twenty in all, since she had just used her last one. Brilliant. Normally she had no problems hitting a target, but her nerves were slowly get the better of her. She was worried about what the upcoming days would bring. News had finally reached her that she would join the Watch, but only as an apprentice (she’d wanted to stamp her feet about that too). What if she made a fool of herself? What if she failed to impress? What if she failed full-stop? She couldn’t do that. She couldn’t. She’d never dealt well with failure. And not just that, but she couldn’t go back. She needed this if she wanted to finally venture beyond the Sea of Grass. She really could not fail. But the weapon had grown clumsy in her hands nonetheless as the thoughts and worries assaulted her. She let out a sigh, sparing a glance to Andraste who was grazing close by, though not close enough to be hit by a stray arrow. It seemed her horse had even less faith in her abilities, and that made Mealla want to scowl. Instead, she pushed a stray lock of hair behind her ear. She’d pulled her hair back into a messy braid, but it was slowly becoming loose with her exertions, strands of brown hair falling from it. She didn’t care. No one was around to see, after all. It wasn't like there was a man to impress. Another sigh, and she placed her bow carefully on the ground before moving to collect the arrows, pulling them out the ground and checking them for damage. They were all fine, and she traipsed back to where she’d left her bow, thrusting the arrows back in the ground beside her. She picked up her bow once more, tucked her hair back behind her ear, and plucked an arrow and nocked it, drawing the string back to her ear. She sighted along it, wondering if now was a time where she should also try and control the breezes. Perhaps they would help her to get the arrow to fly true, but she still wasn’t terribly skilled with that either. Sometimes she thought the breezes were toying with her, taunting and teasing, though there was no reason why they'd do such a thing. She was just annoyed, and needed something to blame. But never mind that. She pushed the thoughts aside, and focused on the target in front of her, trying to be calm. Her hands shook ever so slightly. She took in a breath, and released the arrow as she exhaled, biting her lip, bracing herself, holding herself still. She couldn't fail. She couldn't. She had to do it. Finally there was a sharp thwack as the arrow hit the target. Oh, it was far from the centre, but it was a start, and she felt herself smile, some of her confidence returning. A start indeed. And her gaze flicked to Andraste. Hrm... OOC NotePurchased shortbow for 30gm, and shortbow arrows (20) for 1gm; see Ledger.

[Mealla Stormsong]

She whistled for Andraste, calling the Strider to her. It was one thing to be able to shoot from the ground, but she was Drykas, and most of her time was spent on horseback. It was far more important to be able to shoot whilst riding; whilst on the move. And now that she had hit the target once... it was time to try something new. Andraste raised her head, her ears pricking. She nickered softly and started walking towards Mealla, breaking into a trot to cover the last bit of distance. Mealla smiled as she reached out and stroked the horse’s nose, all and any tension she’d been feeling instantly evaporating. There was a certain calmness about Andraste that was always so contagious. Being around the horse made her calm. It had always been the way, right from the moment she’d been picked. The horse was her best friend – her everything. With one last pat, Mealla moved to Andraste’s side and vaulted onto the horse’s back, the bow still in one hand; her free hand moved to grip the Yvas as she urged the horse on, guiding her to where the arrows still stuck out of the ground. She halted Andraste, and learnt down, hanging off the side of the horse, using her legs to grip and keep her on the horse – an acrobat’s trick, perhaps, if she had been more graceful. She grabbed an arrow and righted herself, before pushing Andraste into a canter. The Strider responded at once, almost as if she could read Mealla’s thoughts. Mealla circled the target, concentrating on getting her bow in the right place – held correctly – before she placed the arrow on the string. The bow wobbled a bit despite her attempts to keep still, and she frowned, forcing herself to concentrate harder. Arrow nocked, she turned towards the target, twisting in the Yvas, and released as Andraste drew level with the target. There was no thwack this time, and immediately she drew Andraste to a walk and lowered the bow, turning to glance over her shoulder, gripping the Yvas with one hand until her knuckles turned white. The arrow had missed by miles. Great. But she was not about to give up. Never, ever. She had to do this. Cursing again, she guided Andraste back to where the arrows stood, and picked another, leaning down, hanging off the horse's side yet again, and then turned the horse back towards the target a little sharply as soon as she righted. Andraste threw up her head in protest, stopping, almost rearing. “I’m sorry,” Mealla whispered, reaching out to sooth her, pressing a hand to her neck. “Do this one thing for me. Please.” The horse’s ears flicked by before she started moving again. A walk, and then trot, and then a canter, and a gallop. The arrow was back on the string, and, moments later, flying through the air once again. No thwack. Mealla gritted her teeth, before turning back to the arrows. Again and again and again. For the gods knew how long. * Mealla stood beside Andraste, one hand resting on the horse’s neck as she surveyed the target. It was peppered with at least half a dozen arrows. Oh, none of them were in the centre. But it was a start, at least. She’d done something. She’d improved. And she could not contain her smile.

[Fallacy]

XP Award! Name: Mealla Stormsong XP Award: Short bow- 3 Riding- 3 Lore: Distracted minds never hit the target Doubt about apprenticeship Shooting off horseback Notes: -31 GM (shortbow and 20 arrows) Really liked the poem at the beginning Any questions or concerns about the rewards gained please send a PM