Winter 61st 13th Bell 9th chime
Kreig looked down the sight of his Crossbow in frustration, he simply couldn't find out what he was doing wrong as he aimed the weapon at the wooden post 40 yards away. 40 yards was supposed to be a pretty managable distance, especially on a day like today where there was no windage to affect his aim, only the light falling of snow seemed to be in the cards today.
He couldn't wrap his head around it, what was he doing wrong? What was so different from the previous times that he would miss so badly? Were the sights of his bow misaligned? No... only way that would happen if he dropped it on its back rather hard, especially since it was nothing more that a bolt-shaped piece of metal. Was something wrong with his bolts? No, although some had blunted slightly from over use that should have hardly affected their trajectory. Did the bolt string needed restringing? No no, it still held the same amount of power with each shot, with each press of the lever.
The bow itself was already cocked, a bolt set snuggly on the groove as he aimed down the sight, crouched on one knee and ready to do the deadly deed of murdering a wooden post. His breathing was nice and steady, he raised the elevation of the bow only slightly. This was going to be his fifth shot, his fifth shot of the second bell that is, with the previous bell filled with constant misses and the latter half of accompanied with rather colorful curses that were only heard as mumbles by the rest of the order.
He pressed the trigger and let the bolt fly through the air, it seemed, as if would reach its target with no trouble. The bolt indeed reached the target as it flew throught the air, it also went passed it and landed a few yards further then intended.
"Oh bloody petching skyke" He mumbled the words as the last he need was one of the knights complaining about his potty mouth. Frustration nearly filled him to his very being as he wanted to smash the crossbow rather violently, preferrably over someones head. But, as the brawler took a deep breath to calm himself, he knew that only a poor craftsman would blame his tools for inadequacy. Also it hve been constly to repair the weapon and he'd rather not spend a few hours in the tank for assualt.
So with what felt like the infiniteth time of tue day, Kreig lowered his cross bow, placed a foot through the stirrup anf lowered himself to grab the bow string. He lifted hinself back up as he pulled the string back with the lower muscles of his torso rather than using the ones in his arms, notching the string to the nutt and securing it tightly. He lifted the weapon against his right shoulder, his right hand reached for a bolt from the quiver as the weapon was secured his left hand. He placed the bolt on the groove and aimed, ready to try again ad he lowered himself on one knee, the elbow of his left resting against it. The position should have caused his aim to be more stable as he looked at the target from behind the sight. He breathed deeply, in and out as he took his time, before finally holding his breath breifly as he stilled his body entirely. He pressed the trigger, the bolt flew through the air, racing towards the wooden post and...missed.
Kreig almost screamed in frustration at this as he stood up and oaced furiously left and right as his eyes darted from his crossbow to the post and back again...
What was he doing wrong was the question he asked himself, what was so different from the many times before? He had the weapon for a while now, he had learned the name of each part, the differences between it and other bows, he had learned how to aim and how to load the weapon, he had learned the different positions he could use with the weapon and even how holding his breath briefly could help with his accuracy.
For Kreig's credit, he had gone through the motions correctly, there was no mistake on how he performed most of the actions. However, he failed to realize the singke mistake, a mistake so miniscule that only another could point it out to him.
" You twitch "
x
Kreig looked down the sight of his Crossbow in frustration, he simply couldn't find out what he was doing wrong as he aimed the weapon at the wooden post 40 yards away. 40 yards was supposed to be a pretty managable distance, especially on a day like today where there was no windage to affect his aim, only the light falling of snow seemed to be in the cards today.
He couldn't wrap his head around it, what was he doing wrong? What was so different from the previous times that he would miss so badly? Were the sights of his bow misaligned? No... only way that would happen if he dropped it on its back rather hard, especially since it was nothing more that a bolt-shaped piece of metal. Was something wrong with his bolts? No, although some had blunted slightly from over use that should have hardly affected their trajectory. Did the bolt string needed restringing? No no, it still held the same amount of power with each shot, with each press of the lever.
The bow itself was already cocked, a bolt set snuggly on the groove as he aimed down the sight, crouched on one knee and ready to do the deadly deed of murdering a wooden post. His breathing was nice and steady, he raised the elevation of the bow only slightly. This was going to be his fifth shot, his fifth shot of the second bell that is, with the previous bell filled with constant misses and the latter half of accompanied with rather colorful curses that were only heard as mumbles by the rest of the order.
He pressed the trigger and let the bolt fly through the air, it seemed, as if would reach its target with no trouble. The bolt indeed reached the target as it flew throught the air, it also went passed it and landed a few yards further then intended.
"Oh bloody petching skyke" He mumbled the words as the last he need was one of the knights complaining about his potty mouth. Frustration nearly filled him to his very being as he wanted to smash the crossbow rather violently, preferrably over someones head. But, as the brawler took a deep breath to calm himself, he knew that only a poor craftsman would blame his tools for inadequacy. Also it hve been constly to repair the weapon and he'd rather not spend a few hours in the tank for assualt.
So with what felt like the infiniteth time of tue day, Kreig lowered his cross bow, placed a foot through the stirrup anf lowered himself to grab the bow string. He lifted hinself back up as he pulled the string back with the lower muscles of his torso rather than using the ones in his arms, notching the string to the nutt and securing it tightly. He lifted the weapon against his right shoulder, his right hand reached for a bolt from the quiver as the weapon was secured his left hand. He placed the bolt on the groove and aimed, ready to try again ad he lowered himself on one knee, the elbow of his left resting against it. The position should have caused his aim to be more stable as he looked at the target from behind the sight. He breathed deeply, in and out as he took his time, before finally holding his breath breifly as he stilled his body entirely. He pressed the trigger, the bolt flew through the air, racing towards the wooden post and...missed.
Kreig almost screamed in frustration at this as he stood up and oaced furiously left and right as his eyes darted from his crossbow to the post and back again...
What was he doing wrong was the question he asked himself, what was so different from the many times before? He had the weapon for a while now, he had learned the name of each part, the differences between it and other bows, he had learned how to aim and how to load the weapon, he had learned the different positions he could use with the weapon and even how holding his breath briefly could help with his accuracy.
For Kreig's credit, he had gone through the motions correctly, there was no mistake on how he performed most of the actions. However, he failed to realize the singke mistake, a mistake so miniscule that only another could point it out to him.
" You twitch "
x
