Death from Above: Archery

Tal sighed. He ran an eye over the parchment neatly tacked to the front of his door. Three weeks. It had been three weeks since he had returned to the Tower and still, the Master of Arms was “too busy” to see him. Too busy indeed, though apparently not too busy to assign him to teach classes. He almost growled, frustration threatening, momentarily, to boil over. Classes and all were very well, not that he minded teaching. It was just the waiting that rankled. Limbo was never a comfortable state to be in. Talaban read the note again.

Talaban,

Take a class in archery for the trainees. The necessary information has been disseminated. Tomorrow at the south range, an hour after Breakfast.

Caelan Rohan

Archery. The arms man almost sighed again. Part of him wondered if this was deliberate. Tal generally steered clear of bows himself, being far more at ease with a bandolier of throwing blades. Granted, his skill with arrows and such had increased somewhat but Tal was nothing more than a middling hand with a bow. “Guess I know enough to teach a beginner’s lesson,” he muttered silently.

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Eyes snapped open, jade green orbs peering up at the shadowy roof. Talaban sat up in the bed. Two hours before dawn. It had taken little for him to slip back into the familiar routine. Even his exile had not changed that. He dressed in the dark, more by instinct then by sight, the wan moonlight showing little more than slivers of faint shadow.

The garments felt cool to the flesh as he pulled them on, black silk sliding smoothly over skin. Pale blond strands were pulled back as his wispy hair was neatly contained within the plain leather hadori. His right hand reached out, grabbing the sword belt from its hook at the end of the bed, the easy weight of a blade on either hip strangely comforting. Feet slid into shoes of soft leather, feeling the cold of the hard stone floor become distant as the arms man slipped from his room.

There was little activity this early in the morning, the majority of the tower residents still fast asleep, safe for the kitchen staff, the guard patrols and perhaps the odd night owl like himself. Talaban ghosted down the corridors, stepping softly through the hallways of the Tower barracks and into the chilly night air of the open yards. Plenty of time for him to run through his morning exercises.

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The great bell chimed within the Tower courtyard, signalling the commencement of the Breakfast hour. It sounded distant as Tal found his way into the south range. A sheen of sweat glistened on his skin as the wiry man sank into the lotus position to meditate and wait. He had never particularly liked detaching lessons, although to use the word hate would have been an overstatement. Hopefully, the trainees would be on time.

Tal opened his eyes, just as the bell chimed again distantly. It was a fair sized group that had assembled at the entrance to the range. An even mix of males and females, tall, short, dark and fair, you named it, it was probably present there somewhere in the motley mix of trainees gathered for the lesson. It was one of the Tower’s oddities, turning a motley crew of individuals into some of the finest fighters in the land.

Coming to his feet in a single motion, the arms man motioned them forward and into the range proper. Stopping before the shed which held the lesson stores, Tal turned to address them.

“Good morning. My name is Talaban. I’ve been away from the Tower for a good while, so I expect none of you know anything about me at all. This is a basic archery lesson. For those who know nothing about bows, it’s a good place to start. For those who do know something, well, treat it as a share and tell session mixed with some practice. Feel free to assist any of the others if they seem to be having difficulty,” Tal paused momentarily to take another look at the class.

It really was a good mix of experience. A group of them were looking for the badges on his garments, trying, as it were to size him up with relation to themselves. Hopefully, they did not bother too much about the fact that there were no markings on him. Life would be much easier for everyone if they helped those who needed it rather than waste their time trying to figure out if they were actually ahead of him. Murmurs were starting up as the trainees started to talk among themselves.

“So before we begin, I’d like to know your names, where you’re from and any experience, if any, with the bow. Any sort of bow.”

A burly youth shouldered his way to the front, two badges sewn into either side of his upturned collar. “My name is Swane and I’m from Tear. Fairly good with a short horse bow.”  

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OOC: Okay, standard drill here. 300 word intro post please. Lesson will continue in about a week’s time and remain open till after part two is posted. Do feel free to email me if you have any queries. Away we go :)