4th Day of Winter, 516 A.V.
For the past bell, anyone wandering the Training Yard would have heard the intense cacophony of heavy objects slamming against heavy metal. Bisecting those sounds, boisterous laughter mixed with equally playful taunting could be heard. Having been assigned a squire who'd had some skill in the use of a short bow prior to joining The Order, Ser Brimholt had come up with a particularly vicious and cunning game to take the place of normal target practice.
The fully armored knight stood at the center of one of the training Grounds mock-hallways with a raised short-bow clenched tightly in a gauntlet covered hand. Nayato stood at the opposite end of the narrow hallway, fully clad in his tattered full plate armor. The suit kept clean and well for, but lacked the fine polish of his mentor's armor; mainly because he was always ordered to shine Ser Brimholt's armor to get better acquainted with heavy armor.
Nayato lifted his own short-bow in perpetration to fire, his went without the protection of gantlets that his patron wore. Like many Chaktawe, he felt as if a piece of himself were missing if the freckles on his fingertips that allowed him to sense motion were covered. His free hand lifted to retrieved an arrow from the quiver on his back. The special game arrow had a rounded blunt tip, used to bludgeon and stun small creatures. But for a person in full plate armor, made for an absolutely great time.
"Oi, what would you say the score is?" The knight shouted from under his helmet. Nayato shrugged as his eyes glanced around, taking careful consideration of the distance between them to help him with his draw length. To much would cause his hand to shake and too little would alter his arrow speed. He lifted his arrow higher than usual, pointing the arrow at Ser Cagus's head. But that wasn't his target, he knew the trajectory would drop at his softer draw weight to hit the knight in the general area of his breast plate.
"I lost track at seventeen to eighteen in my favor." Once his firing position was set, Nayato's pinkie finger uncurled from his grip on the bow, extending towards Ser Cagus. It allowed him some extra sensory reaction time to move out of an oncoming arrow's way once he felt it enter his space. "What! I know I hit you more times than that!"
The Squire smirked under his helmet. "No, I've been counting. That is the scor..."
The knight didn't even let him finish speaking before quickly drawing an arrow and firing it at him. All Nayato did was let go of his bowstring, enjoying the twang of vibration as it lunched the projectile. Once the arrow was out of his control, Nayato made one large step to his side towards the wall. The quiver her wore grazed against the wall as he drew another arrow.
"Aye, you got me. Only a graze, but you still hit my armor." The knight said while lifting visor of his helmet. "Point goes to you. Let's take a break, you'll need the rest for the wooping your going to get once we return to your sword lessons." The Chaktawe laughed as he put the arrow he drew away.
"You mean my daily beatings?"
Ser Cagus removed the quiver he wore, tossing it towards his Squire."No, they are lessons. After all, you are better prepared at getting slapped around than before... also swordplay. Meet me back here in three bells. And pick up those arrows." Those were the last words he said before exiting the area.
Nayato was left alone in the mock-hallway, playing a new game called 'Clean up'. Walking down the hall to go pick up the arrow he just fired.
