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Entry tags:
[open] I shot the target
WHO: Cade and his archery babies
WHAT: the result of this
WHEN: early Harvestmere
WHERE: the training area
NOTES:will add as needed
WHAT: the result of this
WHEN: early Harvestmere
WHERE: the training area
NOTES:will add as needed
I. Setup
A lot needs to be done for the proper testing of any initiates: there are already targets available, but not moving ones. Practice bows and a whole lot of dulled arrows need to be found, or made, for the people who don't have their own.
And if they're going to do this, they're going to do it right. With Nari's help, something of a pop-up skeet-shooting range is being constructed, involving her miniature siege engines and a plethora of chipped ceramic flatware.
Maybe a local sculptor can help by making some birds with mean faces.
II. The First Morning
Cade is there a little after sunrise, standing straight and trying not to look nervous, his bow over his shoulder and his eyes alert as he waits-- hopes-- for people to show up. If they do, he asks them in his quiet, serious voice to demonstrate their skill, if any. If they admit to having none, that's a different conversation, but one he's equally willing to have.
III. Misc
For anyone who wants to interact with Cade separately on the subject.
for D'Artagnan
It's late afternoon when Cade comes to the Watch office, looking military as ever himself, and clears his throat while handing a rolled-up parchment to D'Artagnan.
"I thought," he says quietly, resisting an 'um', "this might be of some use to you and your men."
me!
Archery.
[ He leans back in his seat, considering it, and gives Cade an appraising glance. ]
I've no doubt that it would. This is not a skill I have myself. Musketeers use muskets and pistols, not bows, and I miss having range in my arsenal.
You intend to teach everyone yourself?
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I used to train recruits to the Order, and this wouldn't be any different. [His voice is calm, businesslike.
But then it shifts uncertainly.]
...I.. don't know what a musket is.
ii
"I've been practicing archery in an... undisciplined fashion for the last few weeks," he begins. "When I heard about your class, I couldn't pass up the chance to learn." Warden Howe had shown him enough to get started, but had been on his own since.
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There are so many basic mistakes rookies make, from stance to timing to attitude, and he needs to see how Connor handles basic shooting.
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He returns to Cade clearly trying to hide his disappointment. "I need more practice, I know," he shrugs. "Am I good enough to join the class?"
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"You have the basics. It won't be hard to train them up."
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"Oh," he says. The dejection is heavy in his voice along with a note of... fear. "What... do I do now?"
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Removing his own bow from its strap on its back, Cade holds it in front of Connor, angling himself such that the man can get a good look at his hands' positioning. "Like this," he instructs, using his right hand to point at the grip of his left.
I - open 2 threadjacking
That doesn't mean she's helping, or at least, not by lugging things about. Someone needs to direct the construction, and if anyone dare suggest that might be Cade's job, or that of his charming elven assistant —
"Dear," She examines half a cup with one pointed nail. "Is this not all a bit of wasted clay?"
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He straightens from setting a beam in a notch and wipes his brow, looking confused by the question.
"Wasted?"
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That and she'd gone through the trash heaps for most of these in the first place when Cade had told her what he was planning, and she has a net set up to catch anything that gets missed in the air so it can be flung up again, and she has an artist friend in the markets who expressed interest in having the pieces left over after exercises for his mosaics, but that kind of litany is hardly necessary.
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"Instead of flinging sharp bits of crockery about, sand is come by cheaply, and a split bag may be mended with a —" A little tsp! sound, punctuated with a swoop of her fingers. "— Stitch."
Yes, needle and thread. Possibly they have those in the woods; perhaps even the templar’s allowed them.
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...reasonable.
Cade stares at Ottoline, then glances to Nari as if seeking help, his face going a bit red. "Well it's--" he fumbles, "we don't really--"
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Salvio seems to be the only one who requires constant consideration of cost vs effectiveness. It's fine. Really, someone ought to.
"It's a fine idea," she nods at Ottoline, then turns to look encouragingly at Cade. "I could get some different sized sandbags done with cloth and leather scrap, and then we can save the crockery for the advanced classes so they can practice on the strange shapes and trying to aim for moving weak-points?"
She tilts her head; an ask for confirmation. After all, he's in charge on the range.
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"Oi, Harimann."
There in the doorway, leaning into the opening, gripped about the shoulders and arms by two bored-looking Inquisition guards, is... a ghost! Well, no, but he's certainly pale enough for the part, and against this pallor his dark hair and his strange eyes look all the more dark and strange. He's wearing Inquisition-standard prison togs and his wrists are shackled together at his waist.
"Lookin' sharp," says this apparition from days gone by, before one of the men by his side grumbles, that'll do, and the pair of them usher him out of sight and on their way.
no subject