• Memory • Bullseye

[Finnegan O'Connor]

Finn O'Connor

:: 10th Ashan, 715 - Etzos Archery Range, Noon.

It was just past noon by the time Finn arrived at the Etzos archery range. He’d expected it to be more busy around that time, but aside from a handful of citizens and Black Guard practicing their skills, the range was largely empty. There was a small, thatch-roofed, building to the side of the range where target marks, bows, and quivers were stored. Three Black Guard watched the range from inside and laughed at some of the more clumsy attempts by a rather plump citizen who struggled to draw the string.

Smiling, Finn stepped forward, his eyes searching the range for a familiar face.

“There you are!” a young man’s voice sounded from behind.

Finn let out an oompfh! as he was picked up by the waist from behind and swung around.

“Isac,” he looked up and smiled before being put down again.

“You brought everything?” Isac inquired.

Finn lowered the bow from his shoulder with a small shrug. “I don’t have any arro-“

“-arrows,” Isac finished. “Not to worry,” he continued as he put a hand on the small of Finn’s back and guided him along to storage building at the side of the range, “I’ll get you set up. How’s your sis?”

Finn screwed up his nose at the mention of his sister. “Shouldn’t you know?” he returned.

“Me?” Isac laughed, “you know she’s not interested in me. Fokin ‘ell, I should never have told you I liked her.”

Before Finn could offer another retort they stepped into the storage building and Isac handed him a quiver loaded with arrows. “Hold that for a moment.”

Finn exchanged a glance with the three other Black Guard, one of whom appeared to recognize him. Was it the one who’d tapped on the shoulder a few trials ago, before quickly disappearing into an alley? Or was it the one who’d been chasing him throughout the outer ring for loitering? Not too keen to find out, Finn quickly looked the other way as Isac returned and hit him lightly on the head with small leather gloves.

“All set,” Isac said. “Let’s see how you do today. There’s not much wind so you have no excuse to miss, eh?”
A moment later they halted before a broad wooden table that delineated the border between the archers and the practice targets. After he’d put on the gloves, Finn readied the bow and nocked the first arrow. He grit his teeth as he drew back the string. Even his smaller bow took much strength to draw and he couldn’t hold for very long.

“Keep your chin up,” Isac reminded him before he let loose.

Knowledges

Just a personal thing. Tracking knowledges I want to request at the end on a per-post basis.
Isac (NPC): Black Guard.
Ranged (Longbow): Keep your chin up.
Ranged (Longbow): No wind makes hitting the target easier.

[Marten Thorn]

The archery range was one of the few places that Marten felt even remotely at home within the city of Etzos. The residents had an unnerving hatred of immortals, with not a single person openly worshipping. The hunter couldn't comprehend their stance, he knew that some immortals were not to be trusted but they did not represent the whole. Moseke had always protected his home city Desnind, but speaking up for her in this place would not be advisable. At least in the archery range there was the familiar sound of bows twanging, the sight of arrows flying through the air. Something relatable.

Glancing around the archery range as he entered, Marten moved over to the butts and pulled his bow from his back. He pulled several arrows from his quiver and carefully lined them up. To his right stood a young boy, apparently taking part in some kind of lesson with a guard. Not paying them too much attention, he nocked an arrow and pulled the drawstring back. He took a deep breath, steadying himself, before releasing. It was hardly an impressive shot, falling near the edge of the target, but Marten was glad he hadn't missed completely.

As he nocked another arrow a glance to his right caught the boy firing an arrow. Marten spotted a flaw in the boy's stance and decided to try and help. A community's survival depended on those more experienced teaching the young. Marten never would have amounted to much if the hunters in Desnind hadn't been willing to help him learn.

“Your feet need to be further apart,” the hunter said softly, “You'll be more stable if you do that.” He placed his own feet shoulder width apart. “Like this.” He drew the string, feeling the strain across his shoulders as he held his stance a moment before releasing. Once more an arrow sprung from his bow, striking the target closer to the centre this time. Marten nodded, satisfied with the shot, then reached for another arrow. He found practising his archery relaxing, the repetitive motions allowing his thoughts to wander.