Solo Green Arrow [Part 2]

[Ronan]

Timestamp: 22nd of Fall, 512 AV

It had been less than a day since the Zith had attacked him. He had rejoined with the others to find them safe and well, confirming his suspicions that the beast had been attacking alone and not as a group.

The next stretch of their journey left Ronan dividing from them momentarily again. He wanted to practise some more with his shortbow, now that he knew it could be an effective tool on horseback. His dagger had neither the length nor strength to be useful while riding, but a well aimed arrow could be worth its weight in gold.

Tairell cantered through the long grass. The skies grew greyer and colder this season. He knew Winter wasn't so far off now. He wondered if there would be any storms. Fall often brought minor storms to the plains, that had been known to set the odd tent on fire among the camp. Fires could not be taken for granted though. It took only an unfortunate wind direction for half of Endrykas to be ablaze. Cloth burned well. The Drykas had discovered that many times before.

He gently pulled on her reins a little, slowing her to a trot, and he twisted in the yvas to reach his saddlebag. He pulled out his shortbow, keeping the arrows ready in the bag. He looked the thing over for a moment. It was basic at best, but it seemed a bow was only as good as the hands that wielded it - at least from his small amount of experience so far. He had witnessed all sorts of arrows before too. He remembered when they had lain siege to the bandit camp, and the use of flaming arrows during the battle. They could be a deadly weapon indeed. Vaguely, he recollected that they were dipped in some sort of oil before being set alight and shot. He guessed a liberal coating of something highly flammable was the only way they stayed alight during flight.

Gripping his bow and plucking an arrow from the bag, he kicked and cried out for Tairell to build her speed again. She snorted happily, dashing forward. Ronan positioned himself a little more sidelong. The yvas gave a little freedom. He picked a spot of grass, drew the arrow, and fired. Tairell jolted a little against the ground, and he found the motion put the arrow off course. Still, he had fired. Accuracy was something he was going to need to practise.

[Ronan]

Ronan brought Tairell back round in a circle as he readied another arrow. Just a little further ahead lay the first arrow, sticking out of the grass. He was going to try and get his second as close as possible.

Ready, he kicked at Tairell again. They dashed forward, keeping to a straight line as Ronan readied an angled shot. He kept his feet firm so she did not err, and kept his eyes straight down the shaft of the arrow. He pulled the string back tightly and held it in position as they neared the arrow. He did not slow Tairell down. In battle he would have to shoot at speed.

The moment came. He did not blink, keeping his focus as precise as he could. The string snapped back audibly as he released his fingers, allowing the arrow to fire true.

It arced into the air. He pulled on the reins to bring Tairell to a halt as he watched it dip back down and plummet. It stuck into the grass, wobbling as it found its place. Not as close as he had hoped, though it only sat about three quarters of a yard from the original fall.

Circling and driving Tairell back, he strung the bow for a third time. He would persevere.

"Good girl," he whispered in soft Pavi, before kicking her to make the charge again.

He pulled the string back, holding the arrow there in that deadly triangle of poise. Now! his mind screamed. Eyes like a hawk, he released, watching every moment of the shot. As he pulled Tairell to a stop again - which she seemed to begin to do of her own accord - the arrow thudded into the ground. It was a remarkably soft and satisfying sound. He'd broken half the distance, as close as he'd probably get.

Grinning, he rounded Tairell towards the arrows and hurriedly dismounted to gather them up. As he did so, she eyed him wearily. She was probably wondering why he'd been training so hard as of late.

"You just don't get a break do you, old girl?" he said to her, pressing his nose against hers. She let out a small whinny and he as he popped the arrows back into his saddlebag he pulled out a carrot for her. The Sanctuary stables had ensured he had left with plenty of treats for her. Before he could hand it to her, she had it out of his hand, munching on it happily. He patted her and laughed. She was a loyal friend.

[Ronan]

Tairell chewed on the carrot gratefully, tail swishing in the space behind her. As she did so, he retrieved his shortbow and climbed back into the yvas. He didn't get her to move until she'd finished. The arrows sat bolt upright in the saddle bag.

Finally, he gave her a gentle prompt and they began moving again. This time he was going to try and alter distances. If he did some short, medium, and long shots, he would begin to get a feel of the angle he needed to use for different ranges.

He gradually got Tairell to build up speed again. This had to be good exercise for her. She had been cooped up in Sanctuary's and Endrykas's stables often enough. It was nice for her to stretch her legs and run around a little.

He nocked an arrow, testing a short shot to begin with. He didn't want quite as much force, and he tried to find a good position with which he could angle the shortbow sharply upwards. He finally found a suitable stance, and staying in the yvas he fired. The release sent the arrow flying upwards, before it curved and thudded not far from Tairell's feet. She wasn't afraid, since she had known what he was doing.

He nocked another arrow, turning her back round, and followed the shots he had been doing previously. Medium shots. There was a curve to his position, and this time he pulled it back to maximise the tension in the string. The arrow whistled through the air, whirring to the ground a few yards away.

Once again, he turned Tairell. She whinnied, seemingly happy with this. He began to realise she saw this as a game. Running up and down at speed, and quickly turning at Ronan's instruction. He let out a small laugh and shook his head as he readied a third arrow.

This time he was going for the long shot.

[Ronan]

Now for the long shot. He steered her, turning, and riding quickly again. He nocked the arrow, took a deep breath, and tried to find the perfect stance. Arms and elbows measured, not held low but straight and true, and arrow pulled back until the string twanged with the strain.

He adjusted his seating so he was as central as possible, and angled directly perpendicular from Tairell's running direction. He pulled a little further, adding extra force to the shot, and stared straight down the wood. His eyes narrowed, keen and honed.

Finally, he released. But it was awful. The bow flung from his hand, spinning, the wood bashing him on the head. The arrow flew up in an unintended angle so that he had to move Tairell on, and the bow span to the ground.

He caught his breath, realising he had pulled back too far, and lacked neither the skill nor nuance to shoot in such a way. Rubbing a hand through his hair, he recovered from the shock. He wouldn't be trying that again for a while.

Tairell was a little shaken, so he climbed down and gave her a rub and some attention. After that he gathered the bow and the fallen arrows and decided to stow them away for now. He was pushing himself too far. He was capable of a basic shot for now, and that was what he needed to stick to doing.

[Ronan]

As Ronan rested for a while, and let Tairell recover a little from the surprise of his loss of control, a curious idea came to him.

At the moment, his training was very much focussed on two disciplines - for his martial training at least. His shortbow and his reimancy. He had already tried to use stone shields as targets, but what if he could combine them more easily? What if he could lend weight and force to his arrows without burdening them to the ground?

Tairell stood happily beside him, and he got up briefly to gather his shortbow and arrows once again. Once he was settled, he placed his weapon and ammunition down in the grass, and clasped his hands together, whispering a mantra to Semele.

Mother of the Earth,
Keeper of the deepest riches,
lend me your power and wisdom,
blessings upon you Mother Semele.

Even as he whispered, he heard her voice, remembering his encounter. Though he had never seen her, he remembered it well. Her voice projected through the Velispar. Deep, and yet feminine all the same. Solid and strong, but with all the tenderness of a mother. So many opposites, and yet they met with glistening beauty in Semele.

He closed his eyes and found his casting place. He had begun to find visualisation useful in the craft of reimancy, and so it was he began to picture the world beneath him. Below the cavities of rock and earth, the glistening crystals and gemstones in hollowed caverns beneath. He drew on the strength, on the foundation that carried vibrant Mizahar above, and he drew on the age. The stones had stood for so long, they had weathered the storms of the past, some had even glistened in the days of Suvan and Alahea.

That djed pushed from his body, expelled through the skin in a mental push, and hung suspended as leaf green res. From his angle, the green light glowed over the arrow in the grass below.

His free hand took the bolt, trying to hold focus for now. In the periphery he could just make out the beastly blur of Tairell, watching in curiosity. It was time to experiment, as he so often did in recent times.

He began to spread the warm res, like a paste, flattening it with mental protrusion. A thin green layer of liquid light, suspended above his hand. And with more focus, he moved it, working it round the shaft and point of the arrow, before tightening it with a furrow of his brow.

The green arrow in his hand was now encased in res.

It was time for transmutation.

[Ronan]

He used something Leo had told him. Packing the res to change the form his reimancy took. Though the layer was thin, he did as the man of fire had taught him, packing it together, forming strength in his convictions.

As he began to transmute it he breathed the breath of his Goddess. Imagining himself as stone. Thinking on all that was stoic and solid, and that provided the beautiful foundation they all walked on. The green res darkened and hardened before his eyes. He willed it and slowly it formed a thin crust over the arrow. Not enough to weigh the bolt down too much. It would still fire, but with an extra lot of force behind it.

He wanted to test it, because he could use another arrow and adjust the reimancy if it wasn't quite right. He stood up and drew back the string of the short bow, nocking the stoney arrow into a position ready to fire with.

He aimed into the far distance, figuring it would need a little more resistance, though not enough to send the bow flying out of his hand. He closed an eye, focussing, and finally released. It was a satisfying shot. The rock arrow flew forward, arcing slightly - though less than a regular, unfettered arrow - and turned downward. This was the part he was aiming for. He heard it hit the ground, the vibrations filling the air before the bolt pierced the soft grass. The res he had produced had been thin and brittle at first, but he had compacted it in the way Leo had explained, and so despite a hairline crack, it remained in tact around the arrow.

He wondered if he could make the res layer even thinner so long as he kept it tight. He took another bolt to try, settling back down and finding the place with which he could work his reimancy. He exuded the djed, until he had a small ball of res which he began to fold over the arrow again. There was less time since he had stopped prematurely. Once it was folded over, he tightened it. He pushed all his willpower into compacting the res together as tightly as it would go. It felt like it would break and so he was forced to release it. He was sure it was as compacted as it would go. He began to transmute it into earth, and when it was done felt the arrow was a little lighter than before.

He strung it and readied to fire it again. He felt he didn't need quite as much force this time either - the arrow would do half the work. When he realised it, it arced a little higher, the stone hugging the arrow closer. It thudded into the ground, embedding deeper with the force, and as he moved in to inspect, shortbow swinging at his side, he saw it had no cracks or breakages.

So less res, more tightly packed, equated to a more sweeping yet forceful shot. he could ready these arrows and keep them in his saddlebag for use. They were going to be useful if they were ever attacked again, he was sure of it. He was excited too, knowing he had found a new use for his reimancy. His mind whirred at the possibilities, wondering what else he could do, what else he could make to keep with him, and keep he and his horse safe.

He retrieved both earthen arrows and returned them to the saddlebag, climbing back into the yvas and giving Tairell some feed and water. It was time to set off again.

"Come on girl," he said as she finished her food, and they started moving, settling into just less than a gallop. Neither made a further sound. Rushing through the grass in a companionable silence, Ronan thought on further reimancy applications. He thought long and hard.

[Jackalope]

Ronan

Award

Skill	XP Earned	Lore Earned
Riding	+2	The Difficulty of Firing while Riding
Weapon: Shortbow	+4	Importance of Consistency in Firing
Reimancy	+2	Spell: Earth Arrow
Observation	+2	• Lore

Inventory: 1 Earth Coated Arrow
1 Earth Coated Arrow, Cracked


Witty Remark Here

Nice training thread here. Regarding the arrows, the way I see it, and how it seems as though you're using it, they'll hit with more force, have less arc, less range, and probably be less accurate. If you see it differently, let me know and we can disscuss. If you have any questions or concerns regarding your grade, please send me a PM and we can figure it out.