Post by Horas on Nov 11, 2008 23:42:51 GMT -5
Ser Samuel Tarly stood at the butts in one of the many training areas scattered throughout the armies encamped at Horn Hill. He fired a shot from his longbow, though his aim was off and it thudded into the outer ring of his target. He frowned, and examined the string carefully looking for any uneven points. He knocked another arrow and drew it back to his ear, recalling the lessons that Ser Gerold Costayne had taught him as a boy. Instinct told him to close one eye, but that was wrong; he kept both eyes on the target, and released another arrow, which hit one of the target’s wooden legs and bounced into the ground.
“Motherf-” he was cut off mid-swear by the sight of several men wearing tattered septon’s robes approaching from his left, each with a disapproving look on his face. Samuel was in the middle of the Seven’s Army, which he had been walking through aimlessly before he found an unused place to practice his marksmanship. The lead septon had an intricately tooled Seven pointed star in different colored threads sewn onto the front of his robe, which was tattered and old, appearing to have seen many years of use.
“Would you take your own mother’s name and combine it with such a vile word, my son,” he asked. When he saw the look on Samuel’s face, he continued. “No, I did not think so. The Holy Mother’s name should only be spoken with reverence and compassion, never in vain.”
“Yes, Septon,” Samuel said, in a subdued voice. “I apologize for the words I spoke in anger. My practice is not going as well as I would like,” he added, gesturing with his longbow at the arrow on the ground near his target.
“Ser, you are not aiming high enough. There is a slight breeze today, which blows your arrows off-course. The Warrior teaches us that every aspect of the world around you must be noticed and utilized to be an effective fighter. Aim slightly higher and to the left, and whisper a prayer to the Warrior as you fire, my son,” the septon said, while Samuel stared at him, completely dumbfounded. The septon smiled and gestured at the target, and the knight of Horn Hill hefted his bow again.
He knocked an arrow and stared at the target, his lips moving in a silent prayer to the Warrior, to guide his arrows and make them strike true. He adjusted his aim as the septon had directed, and he stood motionless, listening to the wind and feeling it on his face. He released the arrow, which sped straight and thudded into the dead center of the target, quivering from the force of the blow.
“Men who fight righteously, and for the cause of the Seven, will always fight better, my son. You would do well to remember that, when battle comes to us,” the septon said to Samuel. The knight nodded, and bowed to the septon, murmuring his thanks. The group of septons continued walking slowly through the encampment, giving advice on matters both martial and spiritual, until they were gone from Samuel’s sight. He remained at the butts, practicing his archery murmuring his prayers to the Warrior with each shot.
He did not strike the dead center of the target again, but in a two score shots he missed it by less than an inch a dozen times, so he counted the day a victory, and made his way back up to the castle.
Ser Samuel Tarly improves to Expert Marksman (Longbow)
Ser Samuel Tarly improves to Apprentice Religion (Faith of the Seven)
“Motherf-” he was cut off mid-swear by the sight of several men wearing tattered septon’s robes approaching from his left, each with a disapproving look on his face. Samuel was in the middle of the Seven’s Army, which he had been walking through aimlessly before he found an unused place to practice his marksmanship. The lead septon had an intricately tooled Seven pointed star in different colored threads sewn onto the front of his robe, which was tattered and old, appearing to have seen many years of use.
“Would you take your own mother’s name and combine it with such a vile word, my son,” he asked. When he saw the look on Samuel’s face, he continued. “No, I did not think so. The Holy Mother’s name should only be spoken with reverence and compassion, never in vain.”
“Yes, Septon,” Samuel said, in a subdued voice. “I apologize for the words I spoke in anger. My practice is not going as well as I would like,” he added, gesturing with his longbow at the arrow on the ground near his target.
“Ser, you are not aiming high enough. There is a slight breeze today, which blows your arrows off-course. The Warrior teaches us that every aspect of the world around you must be noticed and utilized to be an effective fighter. Aim slightly higher and to the left, and whisper a prayer to the Warrior as you fire, my son,” the septon said, while Samuel stared at him, completely dumbfounded. The septon smiled and gestured at the target, and the knight of Horn Hill hefted his bow again.
He knocked an arrow and stared at the target, his lips moving in a silent prayer to the Warrior, to guide his arrows and make them strike true. He adjusted his aim as the septon had directed, and he stood motionless, listening to the wind and feeling it on his face. He released the arrow, which sped straight and thudded into the dead center of the target, quivering from the force of the blow.
“Men who fight righteously, and for the cause of the Seven, will always fight better, my son. You would do well to remember that, when battle comes to us,” the septon said to Samuel. The knight nodded, and bowed to the septon, murmuring his thanks. The group of septons continued walking slowly through the encampment, giving advice on matters both martial and spiritual, until they were gone from Samuel’s sight. He remained at the butts, practicing his archery murmuring his prayers to the Warrior with each shot.
He did not strike the dead center of the target again, but in a two score shots he missed it by less than an inch a dozen times, so he counted the day a victory, and made his way back up to the castle.
Ser Samuel Tarly improves to Expert Marksman (Longbow)
Ser Samuel Tarly improves to Apprentice Religion (Faith of the Seven)