Mastering the longbow

[S'Lon]

Archery L3 level up

Archery - 10 XP +2 +1 +1 +1 +1 +1 +1 +2 Signoff in Level 2 thread.

Immanis 20, Spring, Era XIV

Having been honoured by the trust placed in him by the Hall in allowing him to stay there, S'Lon felt bound to return that trust and to earn his place there, not just by taking a job which earnt him the crowns to start repaying the Hall for it's generosity and thus taking his place as a Ranger, one working towards his Mastery and not just a student, but by refreshing and improving his skills, taking advantage of the Masters here to push himself. Archery was one field where he intended to make such an improvement and not just in terms of a soldier or one who boasted at the archery butts but that of a ranger.

He had arranged his last few morning practices to be overseen by the halfling Master Aviat, who had stood back and watched without making comment. But this brightening as he finished, the halfling drew him aside to a quiet place under the shelter of the trees which ran down the archery range, their lower branches tightly interwoven by the druids to reduce the number of accidents.

"Well, S'Lon," he said once they were comfortable, I've watched you enough to see that you were taught well enough the process of using the bow, and that you've practised enough that most of your arrows go more or less where you intend them."

He paused while S'Lon nodded and leant forward a little, curious as to where the conversation was going. The halfling smiled at him, "and I've not the slightest doubt that you've attempted to master all of the technicalities of wind and judging distances." He left the statement open as though it were a question and S'Lon nodded, "yes," he replied, "I've done everything that I can. I know how to hold the bow, how to adjust my aim for slopes, wind and so forth, how to regulate my breathing, how to test the arrows and mark them so that I can adjust my aim to suit each arrow. Frankly I'm a little lost as to what else I need to learn in order to progress. I spend some time every brightening if I can either here on the range, or if the weather isn't suitable then maintaining the bow, arrows or bowstring, but my progress has stalled."

There was a moment of silence between them, a silence that was not silence for the sounds of the forest came through and filled the gaps in their conversation, sounds that were there for those who wished to listen to them.

"It's not unusual," Master Aviat replied. "Practice will make you good, it will make you better, but it will not on its own make you great. In perhaps the largest part this is because you cannot improve what you do not understand, and it is in understanding where your next steps must be. You must look beyond the obvious and the physical. I think you have a glimmer of this, though perhaps you haven't realised it. I've watched you in the Hall as well as here, for that is my job as well as that of the other Masters. I know that you've worked to combine your use of arcana with your archery, seen you cast the circle of arcana and then attempt to use the bow." He smiled though not unfairly, "I've also seen how poor your archery is when you do that. But you are on the right lines, for it is the spiritual side that you must now develop, and when we are done, I expect you to be able to cast the circle and use the bow as well as you can now, if not better, and it should be better."

It gave S'Lon pause for thought that the other Rangers had been observing him, though now it was obvious and indeed it would have been odd had they not done so. He hadn't thought though that he had been observed in his attempts to combine arcana and archery, for he had only attempted it when he thought himself alone. He smiled wryly and waited for the Master to continue and enlighten him on where they were going next.

[S'Lon]

It seemed that the Master was not in any hurry to continue and S'Lon sat back and attempted to relax. After some time, the Master continued. "The reason that you are making no progress is that your archery is unbalanced, and it is why you are unable to improve your accuracy no matter how many candlemarks you spend here on the range. You have experience, you understand the effects of the ground, the weather and movement and how to adjust for all of these, but these are the techniques, and techniques alone."

"You know how to stand, you know to relax and to breath, how to use your arms to tension the bow as required in order to get the arrow the right distance, how to angle the aim to allow for the distance. This is the physical side and also is not enough on it's own." The silence ensued for a little while longer and S'Lon began to understand that it was deliberate.

"Where you are lacking," the words came eventually "is the third pillar of the tripod. Now you understand how a tripod works when you have a camp fire. It is easily adjustable and will stand on any surface, regardless of how rough it is or even the slope. It is flexible and adjustable, and this is how you need to be. But if one of the legs is weak then it will work badly. Also if you don't understand how to adjust it, then again it will produce very bad results. And this is where you are at the moment. You are weak in the third leg of the tripod, that of the mind or the soul if you prefer. Once you understand this and can put all the three legs into harmony, then and only then will you achieve what you seek. It is why you are unable to seek what you achieve with clara, though as I say I suspect you have begun to understand this at some level."

Now S'Lon needed the silence to digest what had been said. It made sense, though he didn't entirely understand exactly what he had been doing wrong or not doing at all. He did understand that his mental state was one of the factors which heavily influenced his archery, and that doubts, tiredness or simply a lack of concentration would all make his accuracy worse, but he had never before split out the elements in that way. When he cast the circle and then attempted to use the bow, his was distracted by doing both tasks at the same time and consequently had some difficulty in doing the both at the same time.

The halfling continued, "when you have all these things in harmony then the arrows will take on a life of their own. You will be part of the process, the bow will become part of your body. The techniques will merge with the body and the mind will be a part of the whole. When you have this harmony, then you will have taken the first step to mastering the bow. Once you are able to do this, then you will if you wish be able to start to make the bow do things that do not seem possible. Your accuracy will improve and you will feel the arrows in your soul, know them as if they were your children."

It seemed a little far fetched to S'Lon but he wasn't in any position to disagree and nor did he feel any inclination to do so. He had done all that he could to improve and if this was the way forward, then it was so and he would follow the new path with all the dedication the put into it.

The halfling however wasn't done. "But we will cover some more practical things too. Your bow is something that you know like any other limb of your body, but too you need to be adaptable, to be able to use another bow, any other bow. You need to understand how to make and repair the bow and arrows." S'Lon could understand this and he knew some of it already for a ranger without this knowledge wasn't of much use out in the wilderness, brightenings, if not cycles away from the nearest bowyer or fletcher. He knew without study he would not achieve any proficiency with either, but he needed to be able to do what he needed to.

[S'Lon]

The silence reigned for a while after that for S'Lon needed to make sense of it in his own mind and the halfling Master seemed content to allow him to do that. After a while, as the birds continued to sing and rustle in the leaves fallen from last era looking for grubs of some sort, S'Lon ventured, "so how do I correct it? What do I need to do in order to improve that third leg?"

Master Aviat considered S'Lon it seemed more than his answer to the question. "As with the other two legs, it is not something that you can achieve mastery of in a brightening or even a cycle. Some never achieve it, but those who can are able to move on and become something that sets them apart from their fellows." He stood and waved S'Lon to his feet.

"It would perhaps be easiest if it were taught from the very start, and yet it slows the teaching and many are confused by it. You need to go back to the very start and re-learn your skills. In some ways it is very similar to what you already know, in others it is very different, but sometimes it is hard to see that and you will need to think hard on it. You know the bow and you know yourself. Now what you need to do is to integrate them so that you become the bow. The arrow becomes part of you, the whole structure of bow, string and arrow are things that have a life of their own, but also a part of yours."

He waved at S'Lon. "Try it."

He felt foolish, unsure of exactly what it was that was expected of him. Taking the bow he bent it under his knee and slipped the string back into the top nock. The wood was smooth under his fingers, polished and lightly oiled so that it felt like silk under the rough skin of his fingers. He held it and closed his eyes, feeling it with his mind, fingers exploring it's length. It was familiar to him and he could picture it easily he found, hardly surprising considering the amount of time he spent in its company. He took it by the grip and imagined that he could still feel it. Then an arrow. He opened his eyes to check it, laying it onto the bow and clipping it in place. His fingers caressed the string within the tight glove that protected them.

The bow he could now start imagining, but there was more, much more because that was one small element of a whole and here he understood the Masters teachings for he needed to bring together everything into one whole, something that he'd known from the start but somehow managed not to achieve as the technicalities of getting each small part right distracted him from the totality of the skill.

His feet sat on the ground, taking strength from its stability. Like a tree he needed to be firmly planted and yet to be able to move. He checked his balance and shifted slightly to bring himself more upright. It was a comfortable position and one that he as very familiar with. It needed little to bring the bow up and sight down the tensioned arrow. This was the moment he needed to focus on, needed to feel the target as much as he'd felt the bow. Arrow, target, all were one for he connected them and it was his skill or lack of it that would make it a success or failure. He felt the air move on his skin and breathed. The arrow left his relaxed fingers and sped down the range, part of his mind now with it, hoping to feel it's impact on the target.

[S'Lon]

The arrow struck the target. It hit, the shaft flexing with the force of the impact, quivered and then was still. It had hit where he'd aimed it, but no better or worse than he could have achieved before.

"Like a stream polishing the rocks in its bed," the words of the Master intruded into his conscience, "so too must your skills improve. A drop of rain falling at the streams source must reach the sea unless it is diverted en route. So too with you. Remember the tripod and gradually your skills will polish. You will be the stream, all one, and bow or target, it matters little, the arrow connects them in your mind."

It was a little far fetched for the Rangers somewhat practical mind, but he nodded, abstracted by the idea as he attempted to fit it into his own terms or failing that adapt his own terms to fit the idea. The concept would remain in his mind over the coming cycles to be worked and worried at until he was happy with it.

"Thank you," he replied. He smiled suddenly. "I guess that was the push I needed, wasn't it? I think you were right, I was trying to work my way to this and never even realised. It could have taken me months to realise just where I was going wrong, even assuming that I ever did." He was heartfelt in his thanks and it showed in the tone of his voice. His lack of improvement had started to frustrate him though he'd not really been aware of it. It would give him the momentum that he needed in order to start practicing again.

[S'Lon]

Another brightening

The words of the halfling master had echoed in S'Lons head. He knew that he was at least a little bit stubborn, a little bit hard headed and unwilling to seek out the help of others. But now that help had been put in place and now S'Lon had a way forward. But his way forward he decided was perhaps not the way that others might have chosen.

He was in no hurry that brightening, his other work could wait for a candlemark or two without harm to any and this was important. His bow was unstrung and he lent his weight into the back, slipping the string up into the knock, but then he merely stood and looked out into the forest, his mind relaxing, coming into tune with what was going on around him. His thoughts were of leaves, squirrels that hopped and flicked their tails, of rabbits who scented the breeze. His eyes were alert but relaxed and after a while followed the erratic path of a tree creeper as it climbed around the trunk of a nearby oak.

He could feel his feet firmly planted on the ground his stance easy but firm. Like an oak his mind told him, his eyes still on the tree. His stance needed to be balanced, and he drew in his mind the idea of the roots reaching down into the earth, his legs the trunk now locked firmly. His eyes closed as he concentrated. The roots reached out and divided time and time again, each tiny little hairlike root finding it's own secure hold in the soil below him. His legs were solid now, braced with and into the soil, each an anchor that would not be moved no matter what happened.

Like the heart of the trunk his spine provided the support for his upper body, flexible enough to bend a little in the wind but strong and stout, capable of taking the weight of his upper body and keeping it as firm as the legs below. His hips fused with the legs and trunk. The air caressed him, toying with his hair and brushing soft across his face. The sounds of the forest wrapped around him; the songs of the birds and the chattering of the squirrels as they squabbled and played, darting around on the forest floor and with a tiny clatter of claws up the side of trees.

S'Lon sighed, the sound somewhat woody and concentrated on what was going on around him. Sunlight filtered through the trees and warmed his leaves even as the breeze continued to toy with them, the chill of the Spring air less apparent now.

He concentrated on the feelings, building a memory of the strength and yet also of the flexibility of his limbs, the bow now a part of him. Squirrels chased up him and leapt across to another tree and he sighed once more allowing the essense to slip away slowly, returning him back to his original form once more.

He flexed his toes in his boots, the weight of his belt now tugging once more at his hips. The bow lifted, an arrow clipped into place without concious thought and he drew it back. He held it for a moment, arms of oak clasping close, strong as steel and yet far more attached to the ground and a part of the forest now. The arrow released and sped away almost unregarded, at least as far as where it might fall. His breathing was as the wind that flowed through the trees and a second arrow clipped itself to the bow.

Where now? His stance firmed, confusion in his mind as to whether he was man or oak or perhaps something in between, some odd fusion of the two. The second arrow released itself without concious thought and joined his fellow. It felt good and it felt right. Slowly his quiver grew lighter and his eyes grew heavier until he succumbed to the inevitable, his snores an echo in the forest like some woodpecker on a distant mission.

[S'Lon]

He remained where he was, the wind, a little chill sliding through his branches even as he woke once more, though he'd not truly slept, if he had then he'd have not faded back into the spell that he'd wrought but would have been lying on the forest floor.

The tree taught him much for all that it was a shape that he only borrowed. She Who Watched From Afar was there in the background, giving him comfort and encouraging to move on, at least that was what he felt. The tree had a sense of time, of permanence, a perspective on life that was different somehow to his own. He considered his stance with the bow, and indeed all of that skill and realised that he tried too hard, what was lacking was perhaps confidence in himself. The skills were there, long candlemarks on the range had seen to that, but without the belief in himself he could never move onwards. It wasn't a false belief, an overconfidence that he needed, but just as his roots now reached out, so too did the arrow. When in his own shape he had no roots, just as when he released the arrow he was no longer in physical contact with it, but that didn't mean that the connection was no longer there. He might not know it, but She did and the bow, the arrow and the target were all one, all connected, all touching if only he'd realised it properly. He'd had the thought before, but now he could feel it much more and he understood that though the arrow and the bow were no longer part of the trees from which they were made, still they were the same and linked through Her.

The world warped around him and his own shape enveloped him. He breathed deeply, feeling the air move into his lungs for the first time in uncounted breaths of time. He was calmer, his confidence stronger, though not out of place. If She wanted him to hit his targets, then he would, but not yet would She interfere on his behalf. Perhaps one brightening She might, but if She did it would come unlooked for. For now it was enough to know that She stood behind him with one hand on his shoulder. For Her he would do what was needed.

The bow was still strung, so he clipped an arrow to it, the checks automatic now, the small spot of paint next to the head telling him how far off true this arrow would fly and his aim was corrected accordingly. Like the tree his stance was firm yet flexible, the ground itself could have shook and he would still have felt connected to it. His feet were firmly planted, his balance easy. Bow, arrow, target, all were one, all were the same, only he threatened to part them with a lack of skill and a lack of understanding.

The tree was with him, it's strength stiffened his spince and firmed his legs. Like mighty boughs his arms pulled bow and string apart until the arrow passed above his lips. The fletching brushed against the grizzled cheek, smooth and soft against the unshaven skin, and then it was gone, it's flight swifter by far than ever when it had been a bird. A feeling of peace filled him, a sense that at last he had a glimpse of some deeper understanding and that now he could once more make progress towards his goal.

[S'Lon]

Another cycle.

This last cycle had been something of a revalation to the ranger. As the suns threatened to rise, tinting the darkening sky with the first flood of light he was comfortable. Too much he'd been attempting to force himself forward and like a bow that had been overdrawn he'd weakened instead of making progress.

Now, he felt Her hand supporting him and it gave him the confidence that had been lacking. It was something that he'd found strange, outwardly his confidence had been strong, but inwardly his doubts had threatened to overcome him.

He sat with his back to a tree, hands wrapped around his knees against the chill now that he'd stopped moving. He'd never intended to learn druidism, but somehow it had seemed natural and it also felt natural to look to combine it into everything that he did.

Slipping into clara, he opened himself to the wind and let himself drift. He had the power to call on the weather in order to bring the wind under his command. True he couldn't do much with it for it was a nebulous force and what he'd been taught was to gather it and use it. What he wanted to do now was somewhat akin and somewhat not.

[S'Lon]

His mind slipped into the essences of nature, calling up the template that had been inserted there when he'd been trained. But now was the time to attempt an alteration. He realised that there were other possibilities for the future and recalled only too well when he'd been on the wrong end of an arrow. Had he been able to simply call on the wind that might have made his chances a little better, but he also recognised the futility of any attempts on that at any time in the near future. Too fast, too much urgency, it was something that at his current skill was doomed to failure. Some brightening perhaps in the coming era's it might happen but for now he put the thought aside and concentrated.

His mind probed the template, seeking to test it, explore it and mould it. What he wanted was the first stage, the discovery when his mind called on the available wind, before drawing it together. It wasn't easy and he didn't want to exhaust his store of clara, so he worked with as little as he could, a delicate touch almost as soft as the barest caress of the wind itself.

It wasn't easy but then he'd not expected it to be. Applying the template was simple enough, the method had been instilled into him by his mentor and that was both good and bad for while it made it easy for him, he didn't really need to understand why and how it worked. Now though he wanted to do more than that. He'd learnt how to start moving outside the boundaries of what he'd been taught and now he concentrated.

His lips moved almost silently. "Your aid I seek my Lady. The province is Yours and I seek to understand it so that I can serve You. Help me find the vision that I need now as You have helped me in the past." As ever he never expected an answer but now he felt a little more at peace, a little better able to concentrate now that he had Her favour, at least in his own mind. He never really considered the possibility that She had not heard him, though he knew She might not choose to help him.

The breeze was fickle, it wasn't as though it was something that could be seen, but at that it wasn't so much of a disadvantage since he was working with the essence which wasn't exactly visible anyway. All he wanted to do now was to explore the breeze in his own mind and try to develop a more reliable way of determing it's strength than if he merely watched it with his own eyes.

He sat there until he lost clara, never quite sure if he actually made any progress or not. He rested his back against the rough bark of the trunk and considered. Progress had been made he was sure, but it was hard to tell. If this didn't work and perhaps if it did then he had a fall back position of simply trying to use the existing spell to create a channel of air along which the arrow would travel unmolested by what else might be happening.

[S'Lon]

The next brightening, he was back on the range as the first light from the suns flooded the sky with colour and the grey trees at the sides gradually became green and brown.

He'd sat there for a while, this brightening though not sat with his back to a tree but instead he was sat on the firing point, his bow already strung and stood against one of the rests. His arrows were already sorted, checked and ready.

He'd chosen this early in the morning partly because he still had it to himself and he wanted to be able to concentrate, but more because the wind had not yet risen. He could control the wind to an extent, but he wanted and needed a delicacy of control, one that suited the skill of archery, and not to smash his way with brute force.

The time while the suns light had brightened had allowed him to achieve clara and now he held it, his mind sensing the gusts that played down the range. He made no attempt to change the wind as it played with the tips of the grass blades, merely to track it. He spent some time, his eyes watching for wind sign and trying to match what he could sense and to understand how he could use what his arcane senses were telling him. It was something that he found difficult, to match what the essence plain told him against what was in the real world, but he had some experience of it by now.

After a while he stood carefully and took the bow from the rack. The arrows were marked as usual so he knew how to compensate for their individual quirks of flight. There was a breeze playing down near the target, cutting through a gap in the trees there which he could just see, but he played with it in his mind. An arrow was slick in his hands and it soon sped down the range, tracking true on the target, then just diverting at it got close. He smiled in satisfaction at the confirmation of his observations. The next arrow included a compensation for that breeze and it hammered into the target. But the breeze was fickle and it required all of his concentration to keep his arrows adjusted so that it's vagaries did not affect where they struck the target.

It was an interesting exercise, one that allowed him to stretch his concentration with clara all the while the physical skills of using the bow occupied a smaller part of his mind, a part that required little concious control, instead being handled by his subconscious with a fluidity that his concious mind would have only disturbed.

[S'Lon]

He paused after the first few arrows had found their path down the grass sward that formed the range. He lowered his left hand and loosened his fingers so the the blow slipped and twisted around, the wood caressing his fingers until it came to rest with the string downwards. A small part of his mind noticed, but it was the the most primitive part, the most part of his mind was both within it's physical limits and yet also not. Had clara faded? Had he reached out and caressed the breeze with his mind just as the polished wood had touched his fingers? He wasn't sure. He was almost sure that he had, but he didn't discount the notion that it was merely wishful thinking. It would be nice to think that he could know for sure just how the air twisted and turned down the space between the trees. It would be nice to consider the idea that he could adjust his aim to compensate, nicer to think that he could somehow calm the air just where his arrow was to fly. Speculation ran rife in his mind, the possibilities were endless and yet of all the druidic skills that had been unleashed within his mind, this control over the air was the most nebulous.

He shook himself from his trance and shifted forward to place the bow back against the rest and squatted down onto his haunches while he allowed the thoughts to flow through his mind. For most of them, they were not new, but he hoped that by running over them again, perhaps some new inspiration might strike.

The spell that he'd been taught, it seemed to him that it operated more at a level of hope than of control, or perhaps that was merely that he had not yet developed. The spell seemed something of a question of throwing mana out and almost hoping that there would be something there to touch. Of course it would be a rare brightening that nothing would be there, but still. It was a quandry that he'd not yet resolved in his mind. Could he really sense the air well enough? Or should he instead concentrate on something different?

There was an alternative to attempting to smooth out the air or even worry about whether or not he could sense it. This possibility had always been in his mind, but he'd hoped to avoid it, or at least not make it the focus. If he could sense the wind and use his archery skills then he would be more effective in the long term. If he relied upon his arcane skills then he would exhaust them all the more sooner and with it too would likely go his concentration.

His eyes narrowed. But then, there would be situations where perhaps the wind was too strong to neutralise or just one arrow was needed. Could he craft a spell that would allow the arrow to ignore the wind, and perhaps also give it extra range. He pondered on that. It would be difficult to achieve, perhaps impossible, but then he didn't expect to master it in a brightening, if the idea worked at all.

Standing, he stretched the kinks out of his legs and took the bow in hand again. This time, he didn't reach for clara, instead he just took the time to seek the same meditative frame of mind. An arrow clipped itself to the bow, his actions competent without the need to think of it, long candlemarks of training having taken him long past the need to think about the actions themselves. Instead his concentration was on the flight of the arrow. This wasn't the first time that he'd done so, not by a long way but now he had a new agenda.

The first arrow slid down the range, thumping into the target even though he barely noticed. Another arrow found it's way onto the bow, followed by another. This time though he used the routine as a meditation in itself, the actions soothing and repetitive and it wasn't long before he was into clara.

Softly he wrapped the arrow with just the smallest amount of mana and pushed it away from him, his mind tracking the course that the previous arrows had taken, but keying it to the arrow itself. The results were not all that he'd expected though it seemed to work after a fashion. The arrow left the bow but then it wobbled in flight, twisted up into the air and then flew smoothly on a new arc and disappeared into the trees. He frowned after it, a mild irritation at losing an arrow surpassed by curiosity as to exactly what he'd managed to achieve. Something had happened, it wasn't what he'd hoped for, but it was something...

He leant on the bow and wondered. Enough for the brightening he thought, ignoring the temptation to try again. Instead he wanted to think through the happenings of the previous candlemarks and consider the way forward from here.

[S'Lon]

Next brightening

The previous brightening had been enlightening in many ways, it had inspired him with the knowledge that there was more to learn and that he could indeed progress, something that sometimes seemed to happen slowly at best, sometimes it seemed that his previous skill eluded him, taunting him as his fingers fumbled with the release or with a shiver of his arm that pushed the arrow far off target.

But now, this brightening, things might perhaps be different. Perhaps before he had pushed too far, or perhaps not, he wasn't sure, but this time he intended things to be better. He stood on the firing point as before, the targets, the grass and the trees that stood around, all of these he could see in his minds eye without the need to look, he'd spent enough candlemarks here for all of that to be beyond the need for concious recall.

The ground was firm beneath him, his feet planted as firmly on the turf as he stood with eyes closed, arms relaxed by his side, his breathing controlled. He spent a short while just concentrating on his breathing, feeling the breaths come in and out, feeling the wind on his face and knowing also that when he breathed out then the air pushed from his lips and out into the unknown air currents. He focussed for a moment on that, breathing out from his mouth, pushing the air forwards.

He felt relaxed, in touch with Her, his feet planted as solidly as though they were a part of the earth beneath them. He drifted easily into clara and for a moment was tempted by the idea of patrilling. It would have felt right, almost he could sense the roots reach out and lock through the blades of grass and into the soil. His self was centred and stable, his breathing as easy as the wind which might have passed through his branches.

His attention focussed closer, no need for eyes, what use did trees have for eyes? His head was towards the targets, his stance unconsciously poised as it would be to shoot the bow. There in his mind was the target, the one closest. He could imagine it's textured surface, torn by the puncture and removal of the arrows which had struck it before, and in the centre, the bull. He breathed in deeply through his nose, held the air in his lungs and then pushed it out, blowing towards that bull. He imagined the air come out, aimed as though the bull were some candle flame just within reach. He knew that he could not reach it, for an arrow it was an easy shot, but he could never blow that far. At least, not without assistance.

His attempt the brightening before had not been as successful as it might have been, but it had provided the seed of the idea which had germinated in his mind as he slept. He blew out again, and again. Then he drew mana, just the smallest amount he could manage, an exercise in itself. When he blew out again, this time he added in the mana as he thought about the air blowing out. No concentration on target this time just taking his breath and augmenting it, concentrating it, making it into a seed of it's own, pulling in the air currents around him, turning them and binding them. The breath was perhaps, no indeed, unnecessary, but it was a focus. When it came to the action he would be doing a number of things and couldn't spare any more attention than necessary to any individual component.

If this worked then he had conjured up in his mind any number of potential variations for the future, whether any of them were feasible would remain to be seen of course.

He tried again, each time just a release of a small amount of mana, trying each time to perfect it just a little bit more. The best result of the brightening would still be crude, but he hoped that it would be a step forward. Time was on his side, he'd invested era's in getting his archery skills to this level, a few cycles more would not matter. Slowly his vis reserves dropped until he was forced to give the exercise up for the brightening.

[S'Lon]

Next cycle

His practices had proceeded apace, he was confident now with his control of the wind, using just a little strand of the air. The target rocked now as he practised, hitting it at different points. His control was far from perfect and he'd failed dismally at combining it with use of the arrow, but confidence carried him onwards. This was after all the way that he'd been told to follow by his mentor, halflng that he might be, still his mastery of the skill was complete.

This brightening however, he was taking a break from that practice and in place of his usual bow, he had a short bow that he'd borrowed from the Hall along with quiver of it's arrows. He'd not used a short bow for some time, not since Taralon in fact, and he knew that it was time that he made up for the fact, especially since he needed now to be able to use a bow from horseback. In any case, hunting small game with his normal bow was a considerable overkill and frankly a pain in close cover.

He started on the straight range, taking his time to get his hand back in and learning the quirks of both bow and arrow. It was not a comfortable experience to use a tool that he hadn't grown used to. His bow was as much a part of him as his boots, something that he never gave a thought to in use, it was just there, predictable and known.

The range of the bow was of course less and though that had it's disadvantages, then too it was easier to pull. Drawing it could be done with just his arms if he wished without the rather peculiar looking contortion of his back that his bow required. It didn't take too long however to adjust, though it meant that it took a little of his concious attention, which meant some compromises in doing other things at the same time. This of course was the very thing, the trick that he needed to master because using a short bow was very much about being able to do so unconsciously. He wondered idly whether or not he'd have been better off with a short bow from the beginning, it was a versatile weapon, but he dismissed the idea, perhaps because he was too attached to his bow to admit that it might not be the best choice.

Arrows recovered he changed tack and moved to the broad firing point. This was a more subtle exercise and one that he knew that he didn't practice often enough. In any case the sheer persistence of the last cycle in shooting from a fixed vantage had made his feet itch. Since he had this part of the range to himself he started over on the left side and clipped an arrow into the bow. He walked slowly, drawing and loosing in one smooth and swift motion. The arrow tracked and thumped into the edge of the closest target, one that he'd been hitting much closer into the centre of when he'd been stationary. The next arrow compensated, the one after compensated a little too much and then he was at the other side.

This made it harder, because it meant shooting across himself, he wasn't going to even think about doing it left handed, though he knew that some could manage the trick. Predictably his next shot missed the target altogether, and the one after did too though it was closer. He'd taken too much time and the two was all he got before he arrived at the edge once more.

He paused, chewing his lip and shook his head before taking a breath that flared his nostrils and firmed his resolve. The next time would be better, he promised himself that. The next pass was more successful with three arrows around the centre of the target. The next pass was better too, with both arrows actually hitting this time. The practice continued, as the accuracy improved, so did his speed. Soon he could hit the target at a slow jog, though the close range made it easy enough, so he switched to the next target, dropping his pace back to a slow walk, and so his training continued.

[S'Lon]

Next brightening

The previous brightening had stretched some unused parts of his memory and it had taken a while for the skill to return to him, but on the whole it had and so he was ready to move on. Not yet as good as he expected of himself in that, but he would improve, would bring his standard up to the level where he was comfortable. But this brightening he wanted to take himself onto the next step, and instead chose the woodland course which consisted of a choice of paths, on each of which there were targets at various points. The location and type of target changed each brightening as the rangers moved them around. Some were easy, others less so and a few required a good deal of skill to spot and even more skill to actually hit. It was a way of losing or damaging arrows and so S'Lon had brought some extra with him, held in a secondary quiver slung across his back. He didn't intend to lose any, arrows were too precious for that, but neither did he want to bring his practice to a premature halt either.

He chose a path at random, and started down it, slipping an arrow onto the bow. He'd done the course many times before, but always taking his time, counting accuracy more important, but now he wanted to push himself and test his abilities. He proceeded at a slow walk, holding the arrow with enough tension on the string for it to remain in place but not enough to cause him to strain or tire. He came round the right of a large tree and into a small clearing. On the opposite side of which was a straw rabbit. He did not pause, bow bending even as the arrow came up to his chin and released. It kicked up earth just in front of the rabbit and he realised that he'd assumed that the rabbit would move, an automatic reaction with which he was not displeased but he knew that a miss was a miss and an excuse just that. Situations needed to be adapted to and while he needed automatic reactions, too he needed to be able to override them.

He pulled the arrow from the ground, wiping the earth away from it's blunt tip. As he straightened, he glanced back at the path and saw a straw squirrel sat in the crook of a branch on the tree he'd just been standing under. He grinned and wondered which of the rangers had done it, but even as he smiled, his arrow knocked it from it's perch, a simple shot since he was standing still even of such a small target. He retrieved it and set it back with a pat, poking straw back into the hole in the canvas that his arrow had created.

The path bent left fro