Post by The Stranger on Jun 17, 2008 10:49:09 GMT -5
Rowyn was bored.
He and the other archers had ridden out of King's Landing as if the very hounds of hell themselves chased them, eager for a new adventure after the weeks of sitting in the city. That night they spent around without a campfire, for caution. Rowyn sat beside a Valeman named Willis, and though young Oakheart had a healthy respect for Willis' skill, having seen him shoot, the man's social skills needed work. He told no stories, sang no songs, just sat there, immobile, staring into the dim night air. Well, that was when he wasn't polishing his bow.
Rowyn soon grew jumpy. The night was a cold, eerie moonlit one, and Willis and the others did not make for the most reassuring of companions. Rising, Rowyn strode to his pack, and produced his yew longbow, announcing that he was going to hunt some game. No one commented on the queer hour of night, or the bad light, grunting at him and returning to their silence instead. Willis merely swivelled his head towards the Reachman, nodded slowly, and returned to his vigil.
Shooting things had always helped Rowyn's nerves. From an early age he had shown an affinity with the bow, and the yew he carried had been a gift from his father for his 16th nameday. After sloping through the trees for about an hour, arrow notched, he spotted movement to the left. He paused, and only when all was still once more did he turn slowly and take aim on the beautiful brown deer, barely visible through the dim undergrowth. All the tension drained from his body. He calmed his breathing, and his right arm ceased it's quivering on the bowstring, his grip firm. The familiar sense of calm enveloped him like a mantle, and just as time seemed to slow, he released the string.
The arrow sailed through the frigid air, true to it's path, and pierced the deer's neck with a satisfying thunk. It was only when all the noise returned to the world that Rowyn's stomach gave a thunderous rumble, and he hurried to his kill, grinning. He would not go hungry tonight. He spent the rest of the night hunting, bringing down three birds which he couldn't name on the wing. He returned to the sober camp in a jovial mood and dumped his kills on the earth beside his companions. They only looked at coldly.
He had forgotten about the lack of a fire, naturally.
Results:
Rowyn improves to Expert Bow
Rown improves to Noteworthy Stealth
He and the other archers had ridden out of King's Landing as if the very hounds of hell themselves chased them, eager for a new adventure after the weeks of sitting in the city. That night they spent around without a campfire, for caution. Rowyn sat beside a Valeman named Willis, and though young Oakheart had a healthy respect for Willis' skill, having seen him shoot, the man's social skills needed work. He told no stories, sang no songs, just sat there, immobile, staring into the dim night air. Well, that was when he wasn't polishing his bow.
Rowyn soon grew jumpy. The night was a cold, eerie moonlit one, and Willis and the others did not make for the most reassuring of companions. Rising, Rowyn strode to his pack, and produced his yew longbow, announcing that he was going to hunt some game. No one commented on the queer hour of night, or the bad light, grunting at him and returning to their silence instead. Willis merely swivelled his head towards the Reachman, nodded slowly, and returned to his vigil.
Shooting things had always helped Rowyn's nerves. From an early age he had shown an affinity with the bow, and the yew he carried had been a gift from his father for his 16th nameday. After sloping through the trees for about an hour, arrow notched, he spotted movement to the left. He paused, and only when all was still once more did he turn slowly and take aim on the beautiful brown deer, barely visible through the dim undergrowth. All the tension drained from his body. He calmed his breathing, and his right arm ceased it's quivering on the bowstring, his grip firm. The familiar sense of calm enveloped him like a mantle, and just as time seemed to slow, he released the string.
The arrow sailed through the frigid air, true to it's path, and pierced the deer's neck with a satisfying thunk. It was only when all the noise returned to the world that Rowyn's stomach gave a thunderous rumble, and he hurried to his kill, grinning. He would not go hungry tonight. He spent the rest of the night hunting, bringing down three birds which he couldn't name on the wing. He returned to the sober camp in a jovial mood and dumped his kills on the earth beside his companions. They only looked at coldly.
He had forgotten about the lack of a fire, naturally.
Results:
Rowyn improves to Expert Bow
Rown improves to Noteworthy Stealth