(514-09-15) Elfshot and Jesus
Summary: Two archers square off, an arrow goes astray, and a gift is given.
Date: 514-09-15
Related: N/A

NPC played by


OOC Note: Elfshot is a medieval term for a condition of a muscle cramp, a perfect justification for why an archer might miss a fairly simple shot. Ow, bicep twinges! This message brought to you by the Cymric Fitness Trainers Association, who always remind you to stretch before physical activities.

A fine summer afternoon on the cusp of mid-September provides a perfect atmosphere in which to partake of a little gentlewomanly sport. Or gentlemanly, considering. The slight breeze to the air challenges the archers asked to assemble on a grassy lawn south of the tournament fields, where stray shots might not land among the valuable horses being picketed inside a makeshift corral. Fanfare sails over the dusty air, a cloud of sound affirming particularly good strikes or dismounting. Pennants flap in the air in a multitude of shades, but the archery butts are rather less spectacular: painted straw will do that. The marshal of the event is a Salisbury man with shoulders and arms thick as a tree trunk, and he calls out the participants' names.

When it's her turn, Eirian almost starts in alarm. Rarely has her married name been applied in any official capacity and no doubt another spectator will chuckle at her expense as she picks up her ash bow and quiver of arrows. She hastens across the field in light strides, taking her place to the right. To her woe the opponent is already a known quantity, a frightful prospect with years under the belt. Nothing halts her from offering a sunny smile and raising her gloved palm in greeting. "Merry met, and may Lugh bless us with clean shots and many a happy revel." The moon on her brow glints as she moves up to the line and plants four arrows in the grass. All have their dappled black fletching and the long, dark shafts of the rarer blackthorn wood. One of those missiles is plucked and put to the bow, and she awaits the signal to commence the first round.

The archer alongside Eirian is a seasoned hunter - seasoned, as an euphemism for old. Truly, the fellow looks like he's at least fifty, with a long beard and balding hair. When she bids him merry met, and mentions Lugh, he smirks, "May Jesus bless us both in this skill at arms, my Lady." And having said that, he nocks the arrow, pulling back on the string while he aims at the target, his eyes keenly regarding where he must hit and how. His strength, and nimbleness, aren't as good as back when he was a youth, but it will do.

Unfortunately for Eirian, his seeming complacency has him hit three targets in a row to her two though as consolation prize he removes a crucifix from around his neck and offers it to her. "Lord bless," he says, before he leaves.

Eirian smiles at the blessing; she, unlike some, takes no such offense at the well wishes of others. The kind nod accepts the statement for what it is, then she turns her task towards drawing back the arrow and string. Her bow is not a fancy construction, accounting for her slimmer size and build than any lifelong archer. Nonetheless, she holds a certain skill beyond the norm in taking aim and loosing her missile. The first goes wide, however, plunging into the straw behind the target rather than into the painted bullseye as a result of aiming too high. She pulls the next arrow from the ground and adjusts her posture, pointing the iron tip lower and slightly to the side. This time her strike aims true, and the third to follow punches even nearer to the centre. A pity that it might not be as direct as she should wish, but two of three is still acceptable given the competition. Spritely in step and posture, she pivots 'round to face him and offers a slight bend of the waist.

"My thanks for good sport, and best of luck with the tournament," she says. Offering her the crucifix rather than tossing it at her does mean the pagan May Queen accepts the object. "Road rise to meet your feet." And thus has she a prize of an oddment to wonder at, later, in company of the other Laverstocks.

Eirian checked her Bow of 10, she rolled 15.

Eirian checked her Bow of 10, she rolled 3.

Eirian checked her Bow of 10, she rolled 8.

Lainn makes a check for Old Archer Bow at 18, he rolled 5.

Lainn makes a check for Old Archer Bow at 18, he rolled 8.

Lainn makes a check for Old Archer Bow at 18, he rolled 2.

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