Post by The Stranger on Jul 8, 2008 15:27:04 GMT -5
With a sharp twang, a barbed quarrel flew across the yard and buried itself into the soft, red center.
“Ah-hahaha!” the tiny woman giggled gleefully, her dark brown hair bouncing to and fro as she rocked forward on the balls of her feet. “And that makes six! You’re lettin’ yourself get beat somethin’ sore, Ollie-Ollie-Olander!”
A steadier eye took aim at the archery butt, unflickering green, and let loose its own arrow. The steel tip disappeared into the soft, red-painted straw, leaving only the black fletching to stir languidly in the breeze just above the quarrel.
“I’m leaving for the Neck on the morrow, Myrrah,” Olander Reed murmured as his sister wound back the brace of her compact looking crossbow.
Steadying her aim, Myrrah smirked and let fly another bolt. “Why, ‘cause you’re losin’ to your sis-,” she taunted, stopping suddenly and pouting as her shot missed the eye and instead took the target in the yellow outer ring.
“No,” he said, notching his arrow and drawing the string, “because I’m raising a castle.” The slender shaft again found the heart of the target, sinking in deep next to its brother arrow. “We’re tied,” he added.
Wind, steady, loose: Myrrah’s bolt struck closer, if not quite the center, biting the inner blue ring. “Oh that’s nettle stew!” she exclaimed, cranking the arm of her crossbow as her brother found the red again. “Not the castle, I mean. The shot. The castle, grand,” she chirped. “Is it Moat Cailin, like you said?”
He nodded, and waited for his sister to take her next shot. She struck home, and gave a loud whoop. “I’ve had the papers since before Lord Roose’s wedding. The winter storms have delayed me, but he’s promised workers to aid the rebuilding.”
She listened, but did not deign a response just yet. With her wet pink tongue stuck between her lips, she took aim and fired again, snapping one of her brother’s arrows in two as she struck the red eye. “Hah! Catching up, Ollie-Lollie!” she tittered, twirling a fresh, stubby bolt between her fingers. “There gonna be room for your little ol’ sister?” Myrrah sulked, lip protruding in mock pout. “Or are you gonna make me wash clothes again to earn my keep? We know how that worked out,” she said, a little more stern of voice than was her wont.
“You won’t be doing either. You’re sailing for the Free Cities,” Olander answered resting his weight on the bow. “Much for the same reason you spent time in the Black Cells, though I hope to better effect,” he added coolly, before she could form a reply.
Obviously ruffled, Myrrah snatched the bow from Olander’s grasp, clumsily readied an arrow and let it fly, limply sinking into the grass before the target. “You were taking to long,” she sneered, half-playfully. “Why would you want Cailin anyway? It’s just a ruin, you know.”
Olander let Myrrah ready her crossbow and take another shot (hitting the red center) before replying. “Just a ruin that has protected the North from every army marched up the causeway. Once rebuilt, it will be impassible, and able to garrison a greater force than currently, Myrrah. With the Gatehouse, Drunkard’s, and Children’s towers reconstructed and cleared, and the curtain wall between them raised again, even if a force managed to strike from the north, Cailin would hold fast; a seat of power.”
Myrrah peered curiously at her brother. The zeal with which he had spoken had taken her off guard. She nodded along in a silent agreement, and turned to her crossbow. Taking careful aim, she let fly the bolt.
“Ha! I won!” she cried as the quarrel buried itself into the soft, red center.
====================
Olander improves to Expert Archery
Myrrah improves to Noteworthy Crossbow
Construction begins on the ruins of Moat Cailin. The plan will be to renovate and reconstruct the three existing towers, re-raise the massive curtain wall between them, and construct a keep within. By every estimation, the project will be completed in January, 527 AC.
“Ah-hahaha!” the tiny woman giggled gleefully, her dark brown hair bouncing to and fro as she rocked forward on the balls of her feet. “And that makes six! You’re lettin’ yourself get beat somethin’ sore, Ollie-Ollie-Olander!”
A steadier eye took aim at the archery butt, unflickering green, and let loose its own arrow. The steel tip disappeared into the soft, red-painted straw, leaving only the black fletching to stir languidly in the breeze just above the quarrel.
“I’m leaving for the Neck on the morrow, Myrrah,” Olander Reed murmured as his sister wound back the brace of her compact looking crossbow.
Steadying her aim, Myrrah smirked and let fly another bolt. “Why, ‘cause you’re losin’ to your sis-,” she taunted, stopping suddenly and pouting as her shot missed the eye and instead took the target in the yellow outer ring.
“No,” he said, notching his arrow and drawing the string, “because I’m raising a castle.” The slender shaft again found the heart of the target, sinking in deep next to its brother arrow. “We’re tied,” he added.
Wind, steady, loose: Myrrah’s bolt struck closer, if not quite the center, biting the inner blue ring. “Oh that’s nettle stew!” she exclaimed, cranking the arm of her crossbow as her brother found the red again. “Not the castle, I mean. The shot. The castle, grand,” she chirped. “Is it Moat Cailin, like you said?”
He nodded, and waited for his sister to take her next shot. She struck home, and gave a loud whoop. “I’ve had the papers since before Lord Roose’s wedding. The winter storms have delayed me, but he’s promised workers to aid the rebuilding.”
She listened, but did not deign a response just yet. With her wet pink tongue stuck between her lips, she took aim and fired again, snapping one of her brother’s arrows in two as she struck the red eye. “Hah! Catching up, Ollie-Lollie!” she tittered, twirling a fresh, stubby bolt between her fingers. “There gonna be room for your little ol’ sister?” Myrrah sulked, lip protruding in mock pout. “Or are you gonna make me wash clothes again to earn my keep? We know how that worked out,” she said, a little more stern of voice than was her wont.
“You won’t be doing either. You’re sailing for the Free Cities,” Olander answered resting his weight on the bow. “Much for the same reason you spent time in the Black Cells, though I hope to better effect,” he added coolly, before she could form a reply.
Obviously ruffled, Myrrah snatched the bow from Olander’s grasp, clumsily readied an arrow and let it fly, limply sinking into the grass before the target. “You were taking to long,” she sneered, half-playfully. “Why would you want Cailin anyway? It’s just a ruin, you know.”
Olander let Myrrah ready her crossbow and take another shot (hitting the red center) before replying. “Just a ruin that has protected the North from every army marched up the causeway. Once rebuilt, it will be impassible, and able to garrison a greater force than currently, Myrrah. With the Gatehouse, Drunkard’s, and Children’s towers reconstructed and cleared, and the curtain wall between them raised again, even if a force managed to strike from the north, Cailin would hold fast; a seat of power.”
Myrrah peered curiously at her brother. The zeal with which he had spoken had taken her off guard. She nodded along in a silent agreement, and turned to her crossbow. Taking careful aim, she let fly the bolt.
“Ha! I won!” she cried as the quarrel buried itself into the soft, red center.
====================
Olander improves to Expert Archery
Myrrah improves to Noteworthy Crossbow
Construction begins on the ruins of Moat Cailin. The plan will be to renovate and reconstruct the three existing towers, re-raise the massive curtain wall between them, and construct a keep within. By every estimation, the project will be completed in January, 527 AC.