[Guido, Self-Training] Short Bows and Tall Tales

[Guido Faragas]

Timestamp: 2nd day of Summer, 510AV
Location: Outside the gates of Syliras
Thread Type: Self-mod Training – bow/storytelling.

It was the one thing his father had given him that he truly valued.

Guido weighed the bow in his right hand, whilst tracing the carvings with the tips of the fingers of his other. Small, smooth circular images connected with long swooping lines – a repeated pattern across the entire curve of the bow. It contrasted with the plain quiver that now lay on top of a nearby rock, the white feathers of several arrows sticking out proud of the container.

“Hello storyteller,” a deep base voice boomed from behind the bow-carrier.

Guido turned to face a rough-looking, red-haired man with a sallow face emblazoned with deep, dark bags hanging under his eyes.

“Cedric - well-met.” The greeting was hearty and friendly but the newcomer winced.

“Please, don’t talk so loud my friend.” Cedric lifted one hand to his head. “It feels as if I was kicked in the head by a horse.”

“You would have suffered more than a single kick in the head, had it not been for my intervention.”

“Aye, aye,” admitted Cedric raising his hands in acknowledgment of the truth of Guido’s remarks. “I was a fool I know it and now I come to pay my debt.” He gazed at the bow in Guido’s hand. “It is a fine bow and it deserves to be used to its potential. By more than a story-teller.” He allowed a slight smile to curl around one corner of his mouth. “I’d like to know the end of that story...”

Guido laughed. “After my lesson, perhaps... but it was the story that got you so much in trouble...” His thoughts wandered back to the previous night in the tavern. He earned a few coins on a regular basis by weaving stories in the local taverns and the hunter, Cedric, was one of his regular listeners. However, there had been a rowdy crew in the tavern and a fight had broken out – Cedric had been angered to have the story interrupted and got involved in an altercation not of his concern. Fortunately, the storyteller had extricated his friend before matters had got out of hand. Still, one good turn deserved another: Cedric was a decent bowman and had promised his friend a free lesson in return for his aid.

“Right, let’s get to it.” The hunter held out his hand for the bow.

[Guido Faragas]

The hunter had chosen a small clearing close to the city gates for the lesson. On one side of the clearing was a tall thin tree on which a rough target had been scratched in the form of three concentric circles. There were a number of arrow marks in the tree – obviously Cedric has used the area for practice or teaching on previous occasions.

“I know you have some self-taught skills in the bow,” he began, weighing the weapon in his left hand. “Forget it all: you must follow my instructions if you wish to learn with me. It may not be the best way – I am sure there are those who could teach you better than I – but they would demand much in return.”

“First, you must learn to fire from a firm base at a given target. Hunting or firing in battle require speed of thought and lightening reflexes but all uses of the bow require a good basic technique.” He moved forward, picked up a long branch and drew a straight line in the earth in the middle of the clearing some paces in front of the tree. “We will use this line as our base to start from. You are right handed and so hold your bow in the left hand and draw the string with your right – am I correct?” The pupil nodded in agreement.

“Stand with your left foot ahead of the line and the right foot behind it: keep your feet shoulder-width apart and stand firm and relaxed. Try this first without the bow.”

Guido moved to the line and did as he was bidden. He felt surprisingly tense in front on his tutor. “Relaxed, I said.” Cedric spoke in a gruff voice laced with a rough laugh. “Stiff legs won’t do the job.” He gave Guido a sharp tap on the back of one knee. The apprentice bowman did a mock hop as if the blow had hurt but rapidly returned to his stance – this time a little more relaxed.

“Right, now let me see you nock an arrow”. Cedric handed the bow to Guido, picked up the quiver, extracted an arrow and handed it to the youth. Taking the arrow, Guido fitted the string into the nocking point at the end of the arrow and held it in place against the shaft with the fingers of his left hand.

“Hmm... you see the three fletches on your arrow?” The hunter pointed at the three feathers with adorned the rear of the projectile. “You must ensure that two are fitted against the bow and the third stands out directly away from the string. It will ensure that the arrow flies true.”

Guido frowned a little and did as he was bit. “I did not know...”

“Well you do now,” interjected his companion. “Called the cock it is - the fletch that stands proud. Make sure your cock stands out clearly.”

Guido stifled a mild guffaw. “I’ll use that in a story some time – perhaps about a hunter”.

[Guido Faragas]

“Now, show me how you draw back the string,” continued Cedric, rubbing one hand over his beard as if to improve his concentration. Putting three fingers on the string beneath where the arrow lay, the apprentice archer formed a deep hook with his fingers, bending them at the outer and middle joints with the string anchored in the outer joints. In the meantime, his left hand gripped the bow tightly.

“Loosen your grip a little on the bow,” suggested Cedric, placing his hand lightly on Guido’s own. “As with your legs, you need to keep a degree of relaxation in the whole process. Feel the bow as if it were an extension of your hand, rather than something external that you have to grasp hard to retain.” Guido loosened his hand a little. “That’s better,” continued the hunter. “Now, lift your bow arm.” The archer raised his left arm in front of his body so that the elbow was almost vertical, retaining his hold on the string with his right hand.

“That’s good; now pull back the string but not to its full length. Keep both hands at the same height, level with your eye, and aim slightly above the middle circle in the target on the tree.” Guido followed the instructions.

“Careful, you are lifting the shoulder of your bow arm too high. It is a common error. Lower your arm and try again. Don’t force things, let your shoulder reach its best position naturally. Remember to treat the bow as if it were part of you. ” Sighing, Guido lowered the bow. He took a deep breath and let his thoughts slowly wander down the length of his arm to the bow, feeling the weapon as an extension to his own limb. He followed the instructions of his tutor, this time allowing his shoulder to rise more naturally.

“Good, good,” muttered his companion. “Now practice the lifting of the bow a few times using the same natural motion.”

The motion with the bow felt slightly odd at first...yet, it required less force... working with the bow rather than against it. As he practiced the move, it became easier to understand and employ. A smooth flow rather than a hurried jerk; a quiet sense self-satisfaction spread over Guido. It must have shown, for his mentor laughed.

“I’ll still be amazed if you hit the tree, let alone the target.”

With a quick burst of anger, Guido raised the bow, drew back his right hand and let fly with an arrow. It missed the tree by a good three paces and vanished into the middle of a prickly bush.

Cedric scratched his head. “Told you. I'm rarely wrong”

[Guido Faragas]

“You provoked me,” Guido grumbled, lowering the bow.

“Sorry friend. Still, I expect the game you seek to hunt or the enemy you seek to take down will lend you more consideration. No doubt they will remain transfixed in place, offer words of encouragement and wait for your aim to improve.”

“Very well, the point is well taken.” He is as bad as the reimancer, Silven. He seeks to test my temperament as well as my skill. “Patience, relaxation... I know the drill, Cedric.”

“Good, then let us continue. Lift the bow and pull back the string a little way again. Then, once you have aimed, draw the string fully out to the tip of your nose with the fingers adjacent to your chin. Repeat this exercise without firing until it is all one smooth motion. It needs to come naturally, without force.”

Repetition, repetition. Be it drawing glyphs or firing a bow, it is one and the same. Perhaps I should become a master of patience or repetition and then I might perform any task. Yet, I know it works and is the foundation of all skills be they magical or physical. Impetuosity breeds failure and is no shortcut. Yet, I struggle sometimes to contain my impatience.

“Repeat five more times and then let fly with the arrow.” Cedric sat on rock, yawning and spreading out his hand behind his body.

Five more times and then the arrow flew. It missed by a mere two paces.

“Progress, indeed. You may yet hit a barn door at five paces. Fire a few more and then we will take a break.”

[Guido Faragas]

Nock the arrow, raise the arm smoothly, draw back the string a little, sight slightly above the target, extend the string, let fly...all in a fluid, unhurried fashion....the arrow flew, brushing the edge of the tree.

Nock the arrow, raise the arm smoothly, draw back the string a little, sight slightly above the target, extend the string, let fly...all in a fluid, unhurried fashion....the arrow soared a little too high, well above the target but firmly embedded in the tree.

Guido repeated the routine, which gradually became more automatic...less to think about, more time to feel.

By the time Cedric had bidden him stop, the archer was regularly hitting the tree, if not the target.

The hunter appeared pleased. “Good progress, you just need to repeat it until you can hit the target every time. Repetition, practice, training the muscles and the eye. There is no substitute for bells spent in practice.” Reaching into a pouch in his belt, he extracted a small piece of cloth which he placed on the rock and unwrapped. It contained a few dried pieces of fruit and a pile of nuts. Popping a few morsels into this mouth, he invited Guido to join him at the outdoor dining table. After retrieving his arrows and placing them in their quiver, the archer laid down his bow and sat beside his companion, helping himself to a few nuts.

“Finish your story Guido, I must know the answer to the riddle.”

“Only if you pledge not to start a fight.”

“Aagh, you are no fun my friend. Still, I do so promise.” The hunter allowed a grin to spread across his face. He threw a nut in the air, catching it with his still grinning mouth.”

“Now, where had I reached in the tale? Oh, yes...I recall...”

[Guido Faragas]

Guido’s Tale

The finding of the bow Half a bell’s walk into the bronze forest is a small, gently flowing stream. I often fill my water container there if I am venturing into the forest. The water has a tingling feeling on the tongue – much better than the foul-tasting water that is drunk in the city. And, it also rarely troubles the bowels. That is why I stick to the ale in the city – it is much more reliable and, if it does trouble one’s stomach, at least the pleasure of drinking the ale offsets the discomfort that follows. In any event, on this particular day, I went to the forest in search of some herbs that Master Silven claimed eased his aching limbs. I had found a clump of these near the stream before and, so, I sought to begin my search in the same place. The herbs make a frightful stink when boiled but he claims that when soaked in a poultice and placed on his limbs, they have a dramatic effect. They certainly have a dramatic effect on the maker of the poultice: I was forced to stuff a piece of cloth soaked in urine up each nostril to counteract the effect of the smell – it is the only thing that works. I recommend this remedy to you all, should you ever be so unfortunate as to suffer from an unpleasant smell. This particular day was sunny but cold: in the early spring if I recall correctly. There was a pleasant birdsong in the air but as I approached the clearing a small, red bird flew across my path. Its song was unlike the tuneful background melodies of the other birds – it was urgent and pleading - as if warning me to stay away. Still, I had my job to do and it was such a pleasant day. I think I even hummed a tune to myself but I could not get the song of the scarlet bird out of my mind. I reached the stream, filled my bottle, ate a piece of dried meat and was about to search for the elusive herbs, when I chanced to glance across the stream. There are a set of stepping stones that lead to the other side and on the farthest stone I could see an object. I walked to the edge of the stream and it became clear that it was some sort of bow – just laying there, waiting to be claimed. I glanced around and there appeared to be no-one about. So, I thought that I would take a look. I hopped on the first stone and it made such a noise – like a bell clanging. A deep, deathly tone – as if it were the bell that tolls to herald the end of one’s life. It gave me such a shock that I nearly toppled off the stone. And when I looked at the water around the stone, it was boiling, letting off clouds of steam. I turned to return to the land but it was no longer behind me – there was just an expanse of seething, steaming water. Ahead of me the stones still stretched out to the other side but sitting on the next stone was a creature, the like of which I had never seen before. A grotesque, mis-shapen green skinned creature with two bulbous eyes and a mouth full of jagged, blackened teeth. “You must play my game if you want your prize.” It spoke like a hissing snake, a bright red forked tongue slipping out of the corner of its mouth. “Answer my riddles and you may proceed. Fail and you may return the way you came.” I looked back at the boiling water – it was clear I had no choice but to play along.

[Guido Faragas]

The First Riddle “We will begin with an easy riddle.” The creature hissed, a sliver of translucent drool seeping out of one corner of its cruel mouth. I said nothing, merely nodded. In truth, I was too terrified to speak and sweat was forming across my brow. I doubt I could have moved. If the creature had jumped across, I would have meekly let it devour me. “It is lighter than a feather but can be held by no-one for longer than a few minutes.” I know this. It is a child’s riddle. My mother taught me this one. “B..breath." I managed to stammer the word out. The creature laughed. “Of course, so easy.” It turned and jumped to the next stone. One lumpy paw beckoned me to follow. Somehow, I willed my legs to move and followed it, still one stone away from the hideous creature. In a flash, its tongue flew into the water, rolled around a small water insect that had somehow survived the boiling water and deposited the poor thing in the creature’s gaping mouth. “Now, the game gets to be fun. A harder riddle but you are allowed two guesses. I’m fair, after all.” For some reason, the words seemed to amuse the creature for its body convulsed in response to the high-pitched chuckling that escaped its throat.

[Guido Faragas]

The Second Riddle The creature paused for a chime before speaking, as if mulling over the question it was about to ask. “What is always coming but never arrives?” I’m sure I’ve heard this but I can’t recall the answer. The drops of sweat on my brow joined together to form a constant series of drips that ran down my face. The beast slavered, its mouth appearing to grow ever wider. The more I thought, the further I got from an answer. Yet the answer was there in my mind – I knew it, if I could only call it to my consciousness. “Answer, now,” snapped the green thing with a mixture of impatience and glee in its voice. I had to stall, offer it one answer, for I knew I had two chances. “The rain in a dry summer,” I blustered. “Pathetic: it may seldom rain in the summer months but it does so on occasion and therefore you are wrong.” It licked its lips with its red tongue, waiting in anticipation. It flashed through my mind that I would never see the next day of my life. Tomorrow would never arrive. And then I had it, purely by chance. Or, perhaps my inner mind had found a solution whilst I was panicking. “Tomorrow,” I shouted loudly. The creature sneered. “Correct”. Without a further word, it jumped to the next stone and I followed in pursuit. I could now see that the bow lay on a final stone. “A last riddle,” it stated in a flat, toneless voice.

[Guido Faragas]

A Final Riddle “What is my name?” The creature spoke the final riddle. “Your name? How can I possibly guess that – it could be any name! It is no riddle.” For some reason, this unfair question riled me to anger despite my predicament. The creature moved its slimy body, sniffed and shrugged. “I am required to give you a clue. It is part of the game. If you speak my name, I won’t exist anymore.” “That’s the clue! It hardly seems a clue to me, although I should be happy if it were true.” “It is both the truth and the clue,” retorted the monstrous creature in a sibilant tone filled with menace. “And more, it is the name of your prize.” It glanced towards the bow which still lay on the final stone. If you speak my name, I won’t exist anymore. What name will not exist when spoken? It is impossible. I stood in silence, little knowing that this very act had revealed the answer to the conundrum. After a few chimes, the creature began to taunt me. “Aaah, this one troubles you. I shall enjoy consuming you. Your flesh smells tasty. Human flesh is my favourite. So much better than the insects that live in this river. You are a fool: such a simple riddle. A fat-faced human fool, who deserves his fate.” He cackled with laughter, his whole body shaking: convinced he had won. The anger welled up inside me. I screamed aloud. “Silence! Silence, you monster!” The beast stopped its evil laughter and its body drooped in dejection. “You have beaten me, for silence is my true name.” A mist spread across the river and in an instant he was gone and then I felt a great weakness come over me and I seemed to fall down an endless tunnel. I awoke by the edge of the stream. The stream was peaceful once again and there was no sign of the creature. By my side was the bow and I knew that its true name was silence.

[Guido Faragas]

“Silence,” exclaimed the hunter, slapping his thigh with one hand. “So simple when you know the answer.” He smiled and looked directly at Guido. “So, how did you come by the bow? What’s the true story?”

Guido’s face was a picture of mock horror. “You doubt the veracity of my story! I am affronted. Every word is true. You cannot possibly think that I merely found it discarded in the corner of some long-forgotten ruin, when I was on an expedition with my father!”

He picked up the bow, weighing it in his hand once again. “It is so well-balanced as if it were meant for me. It is the one thing my father has given me that I truly value.”

The hunter’s face clouded and he put a gentle hand on his companion’s shoulder. “It is a fine weapon. Learn to use it and you father will be proud. Come, that is sufficient training for this day.” The apprentice archer nodded and the two friends started up the short trail back to the city.