The Arios Archery Tournament at Sal's (contestants, spectators welcome)

[O'Brien]

When the twelfth of Melora had arrived, Sal was fully ready for the archery tournament that the island had so graciously agreed to sponsor. He had been up all night (well, everyone on Arios had) and used that time to prepare. Now the suns' daylight revealed impressive bright green velvet banners on staves, each adorned with golden tassel and an image of a bow with an arrow in the center. The place looked tidier in general, Sal having swept up the place thoroughly. New targets were set, freshly placed and unmarked by previous shots. Each of the eight targets was designed the same; a red dot in the center, a blue circle around it, a larger yellow circle around that, and the largest green circle was around that one. They were similar in size to the regular targets, but these were carefully painted and looked much more professional. The signup sheet had been taken down and replaced with an informational sheet with some information about each contestant.

Tournament Standings as of the Beginning of Round Three

First Circle
Name: Myfanwy Bowyer
Points: 0

Second Circle
Name: Tev Bowyer
Points: 120

Third Circle
Name: Gareth Gruven
Points: 108

Fourth Circle
Name: Ryn Hyllid
Points: 96

Fifth Circle
Name: Elle Trellian Kaldres
Points: 125

Sixth Circle
Name: Damien Lanilathis
Points: 85

Seventh Circle
Name: Medea Lightfoot
Points: 112

Eighth Circle
Name: Paul Tyndal
Points: 116

A group of five of the ceremonial guards from the Thanal Mansion were present, all standing in a row near the shed to the left of the circles when one was facing downrange. The two on the outside had their pikes and stood at attention, the two next to them had trumpets which were held against their chests, and the guard in the middle held a few scrolls diagonally close to him. Behind the guards was a green and white striped pavilion, supported by four metal poles in each corner.

There was a small assembly of Ariosans who had come out to watch the tournament beneath the pavilion. Guardian Portier was there, as was Oioijck, Aedile Jabun, the Dorin clerk from Wild River, and the two sexy elven twins from the tavern. Each had a fancy mahogany chair with a red cushion that looked like it should be in a great palace rather than outside beneath a pavilion, housing spectators for an archery tournament.

Sal would greet each contestant as he or she arrived. "Serale and welcome to the tournament," he would say, adding their name, "please wait over there. When everyone has arrived we will begin." He gestured over across the range from the pavilion. Apparently the contestants would line up to be viewed by the spectators from across the range before they took their positions to shoot.

Hyllid, a longtime resident of Arios, was the very first contestant to arrive, not long before the place was set up, with bow in hand and quivers on his. He stood up straight and tall where Sal had designated, awaiting his seven competitors silently. Long respected by the Ariosans who knew him, many regarded him as the house, the home team, the man representing the island in the competition.

Ryn Hyllid was an old man with white hair, dressed in the brown fatigues of a ranger. His hood was down in respect, revealing his craggy, bearded face. He stood about a modest 5'9" with a slightly tanned face, though most of his body was usually covered even though he really lived outdoors. Almost always found roaming through the island's expansive woods, Ryn knew the land. If his age was any indicator of his marksmanship, the other contestants were in for quite the challenge with the venerable old man.

[Elle Kaldres Lothain]

The day of the Tournament had arrived! Elle hurried to the Archery range, eager to begin and just as nervous. The past few days she'd spent reviewing the lessons her assorted teachers had given her, and limbering up her arms. She felt she was as ready as she could be.

The field was done in bright green, and that was a good omen for the human girl. Today she'd chosen to dress in Emerald coloured pants and tunic with a modest golden belt around her middle. Black boots encased her feet. She'd abandoned her cloak for the day, knowing the fabric would only get in the way. Her chocolate hair she'd bound in a single braid down her back, a matching silk Emerald green scarf woven between the locks for colour. Against her back was her precious bow, the recurved style longbow custom-made to her specifications by Master Lern in the Imperia Forge and Armory. The long bow itself was purely a masterwork of art. A half dozen feet of layered and lacquered wood was deposited alongside the basket quivers holding the score of arrows ordered as part of the deal. Near each end, a notch had been painstakingly carved to be as smooth and even as elvishly possible. The stave was mahogany colored; however, it had a certain shimmer to it, as the darker hues of ironwood blended appealingly into the lighter shades imparted by the naturally lighter tone of the stout yew heart. Two small silver caps screwed neatly over the tips of the wood, protecting the ends from water and impact damage. Near the center – actually, just to one side of the stave’s center point – a grip was fashioned of three layers of leather bound with additional gut. The slight roughness would provide a secure handhold in all weather, and would last a long time before needing to be refurbished. Just above it, on the side of the bow that now faced outward, a sparkle of silver depicted the shape of a rose, perfectly captured as an inlay into the yew heartwood.

At each hip, rested a pouch of tooled leather, dyed to match the mahogany colour of the weapon. Depicted upon it was the Goddess Diana, in a long gown with a bow drawn in hand. The pouches contained a sheaf of mahogany dyed shafts, with the sharpest triangular shaped, hunting heads affixed. The fletchings were also the deep purple colour, with the tips of one of the trio of feathers edged in black to mark the balance point on the shaft.


Heading first to the desk, where she probably needed to let someone know she was present, Elle smiled brightly to Sal. "Serale to you Sir. Elle Trellian Kaldres, I'm ready for the tournament." Her head turned first, glancing to the place before the spectators where the first of the contestants had arrived. An older human male, who looked quite experienced. This was going to be an interesting event, no matter how things turned out. "Thank you very much." She was to be in the fifth-circle. The leaf-green eyes, merely a shade darker than the cloth that adorned her body slipped back to take Sal in, before she turned fully and headed to stand in her place, letting the crowd get a good look at her if they so desired.

Her attention ran to the five guards that lined the left side of the range, and then down the archery range itself. She studied it, trying to learn what might be expected of her this lovely Melora day.

(Edited to reflect only one NPC contestant. Welcome Medea.)

[Tev]

The day of the Tournament had arrived. Tev arrived at the site. The bright banners and new targets imparted a sense of freshness and yes, professionalism to the Archery Range. The targets stood out and were easy to see. Sal did a very good job in setting things up. He looked over at the Information Sheet and saw that he was assigned to Circle #2.
He noticed that there were several spectators present already. Some appeared to be dignitaries. Most seemed to be townfolks.
His first stop was to step over to where Sal was sitting. Once there Tev nodded with smile to Sal and said, "Serale, I'm Tev Bowyer. I see that I have the second circle. I have just one question. May we use our own arrows in the Tournament? I would certainly prefer to." After Sal replied, Tev went of to what seemed to be the waiting area. There he saw a woman who was dressed in green. He nodded to her and said, "Serale, I'm Tev from Narim. My wife and I are here for the Archery Tournament."

[Paul Tyndal]

The Tournament Day was upon them! Paul had litterally jumped up in the air and clicked his heals at the news - it was what he had been waiting for! A chance to try his new-found archery skills against the best of the best. Paul ran to the field after getting ready, and quadruple-checking all of his equipment. Everything was in order, or so he hoped.

The field was a lush, healthy green, and the sun was shining in the sky. In all respects, it was a perfect day for a tournament of any kind - the sky had only thin whisps of clouds in it, and the sun was not in a position to block any of their views.

Paul quickly checked the list that showed where each of the archers would be placed. His eyebrows were slightly raised at seeing a Kaldres competing, all the better. He would be in the seventh circle, he noted, and he took a up a position as to be able to see everyone as they arrived. He carefully noted each of his fellow competitor's strengths and stances as best he could from the way they looked and the way they walked. Having seen all of them, and drawn conclusions based on what little information he could gather, he walked over to his circle and began to get accustomed to the sunlight and how everything was set up in respect to him.

[Myfanwy Bowyer]

The girls seemed to be on their best behavior as the day of the tournament arrived. There was only one small problem though with Myfanwy competing and that was what to do with the girls while she took her turn. She watched Tev as he announced his arrival and settled down to watch with the girls from a shady spot not too far from the action. There was very little point announcing her arrival to the officials since one of them was going to have to keep an eye on the twins who were now very adept at walking and disappearing if one did not keep a close eye on them.

[Tev]

Tev waved and grinned broadly when Myfanwy and their two girls arrived. It was evident that he was quite pleased to see them as he walked over to where Myfanwy had settled down with them. Once there, Tev hugged and kissed each of them. He sat down cross-legged and put each of his daughters on one of his thighs.
The girls were their usual charming and well behaved selves, resting their heads against Tev's chest. Then Rhianna noticed the targets. She leaned forward, pointed to it and shrieked. Aerianna got the message promptly and joined her sister in an animated display. They jabbered each other as they anticipated what was to come.
Turning to Myfanwy, Tev said, "I think that both our daughters will be Archers. They get excited whenever they are at the Archery Range at home. Both just sit entranced as they watch the arrows fly through the air and hit a target. They don't budge at all. This will be a treat for them, especially when they see their mother in action."
Taking a girl in each of his arms, Tev got up as he said to his wife, "Go over and check in with Sal while I show the girls what is here".
He returned to the area where the other contestants were waiting.

[Rhys]

Rhys made his way to the tournement, he wanted to see this tourney and how good the people who entered were. He made his way to the viewing section and got into a good place to watch.

[Medea Quilde'tal]

Her journey to the island's tournament had been a long one. True, not as long as the trek across the Empire for the competition in Paxia but still long nonetheless. Inevitably she had arrived late but not too late that she had not been able to enlist into the archery contest. Had that been the case then she would never have forgiven herself, and neither, probably, would have her senior officers.

However, made it she had done so and as she neared the contest location itself Medea began to soak up the atmosphere that pervaded the location. Her emerald green eyes drank in every detail from the area's decor and the watching citizens to the all important coastal breeze that would affect her arrows with every shot.

The targets appeared to be of standard design and as Medea checked her firing location she discovered that she was positioned in the seventh circle. Arriving late she had not discovered who any of the other competitors were and a quick glance down the list brought a wry smile to her face. She knew at least two of her opponents, perhaps a third, and she made a note to search them out before hand to made good a greeting to them.

Passing the guards Medea made her way to be greeted and announced by Sal. Motioned over to a location for the contestants Medea observed that at least five of the others were already present including those she already knew. Striding across to join them she analysed her would-be challengers. The first appeared to be naught but a grizzled old man but Medea immediately recognised his attire. A Ranger herself she bowed her head in acknowledgment of his presence and made a mental note to introduce herself to him at a later, and more opportune, moment.

The second contestant, a young female human, she did not appear to recognise but then her gaze fell upon Tev and Myfanwy. Medea would never forget the faces of the pair of Rangers and whilst she had not seen Myfanwy since their adventure near Narim she remembered meeting Tev at the Paxian tournament. A glance at the remaining contestants proved that Medea had not met them before and thus she immediately approached the Master Ranger from Narim to welcome him once more.

As she neared him she called out her greeting whilst laying a friendly hand upon his shoulder.
" Master Tev, it is a honour to meet you once more. It has been too long since our last departing. You look well, and those must be your twins that you spoke so highly of last time we met. "

[Gareth Gruven]

Gareth buzzed along in the air happily as he glided his way towards the Archery tournament. A real tournament! Who would have known that a Sprite as small as him would be partcipating in this wonderful thing. He glided over the city before landing straight down at the Archery's entrance. Dropping down to eye-level for most people, he hovered in his area and looked around. Grinning merrily he buzzed on over to Sal, and gave a cheerful hello before flying off to the area he was directed to.

A sad smile crept over his face as he realized nearly everyone here was twice, maybe three times his size. But he had the gift of fight, which surely evened the odds, even if he wasn't as strong as the others. Shrugging that off too, he quickly withdrew his bow from his quiver. It was a price piece of craft, any person would have been glad to have it, although most likely in a slightly larger size. It was wrought of elven steel, and had an intriuging design of a sun on the handle. It was a compsite-short bow that had customly been made for the Sprite's stature. On it, was a bow clip that had been clipped on, made out of fine gold and bearing the same sun emblem. Few knew the power it alone possesed. Sunrise was the bow's name, called after the intricate design of the sun that it bore.

His pine-green cloak swayed out from underneath him, swishing as it followed his feet in the air, forced back by the breeze he hovered in midair. Underneath this cloak was the travelling garb of a ranger, and underneath that was the mesh armor he had bought in Olympia. It was too was wrought of elven steel, and was extremely light and flexible, Gareth had always suspected an alloy of Damascus steel to be hidden within there somewhere. On the left breastpiece it bore the rising sun, like the bow.

Attached to the back of the cloak was his backpack and quiver, which happened to hold thirty of his prize arrows, ten of them custom made with the sun upon them. In the backpack were the rations and bedroll he used while travelling. At his side, attached to his belt, was his elven-steeled shortsword that was sheathed in a black leather sheath. It too, bore the sign of the sun upon the hilt and the blade, making it truelly look magestic in the real sun's radiant rays. Other than his fists and feet, these were the only weapons Gareth bore, a simple bow, shortsword, and the armor underneath his clothes, safetly concealed to give him the upper advantage of suprise if he should need it, which he wouldn't on this day.

Sighing, Gareth reached over and gently took off the magical gold bow-clip. With it, he shot at the level of almost intermediate, but here there would be no cheating, for the other's sake. He silently looked around for Paul, and spotted his friend quite easily, they almost dressed the exact same. "Vedui Paul, glad to see someone I know is here," he said with a grin to his friend, before going silent and reflecting over the news he had learned. He was to be in the third circle, three was always a lucky number for him. But what excited him ever more was the fact that he was to be standing next to Tev, the Masterful Ranger he had met a few brightenings earlier. Carmeyla must have been blessing his luck today, to be so fortunate as to even stand next to such a man. He cast a silent eye over Elle Kaldres, then from Tev to Medea. He grinned silently, hoping he would be able to meet these people later.

[O'Brien]

It wasn't long before each and every one of the eight contestants was lined up neatly across the range from the spectators. Sal eagerly clapped his hands together and received a scroll from the ceremonial guard. He walked halfway downrange in between the fourth and fifth lines, addressing both competitors and spectators. "Serale and welcome to the Arios Archery Tournament, graciously sponsored by the town of Arios and held at Sal's Crescent Archery. I'd like to extend a special welcome to the Lord Guardian Qui'scient Portier, retainer of the island, as well as our other guests. I believe we will all see some great archery today. Contestants, Guardian Portier would like to have a word with each of you before we begin." Sal nodded over to the Nimâlni elf, who stood up and strode across the range with his guards in tow. Qui'scient was dressed in a tasteful aquamarine cloak and a light peach-colored shirt, with pants to match the cloak. The guards stopped around line eight and the Guardian first approached Paul. He would shake each archer's hand as he met him or her personally, saying something quietly to each of them. Outsiders would have to try not to laugh at his lisp.

"Therale, Paul Tyndal," he greeted the young half-elf with a light chuckle, "Thal tellth me you're quite the thudent. I look forward to theeing you in action." He moved on down the line to Medea.

"Therale Medea Lightfoot," he said, "hailing from Tirithfal, correct? Welcome to Arioath, and I hope you will enjoy our hothpitality. Good luck to you, madam." Obviously the Guardian was well-informed.

After meeting Damien, he continued to Elle. "Therale Elle Kaldreth," he greeted her, "the Houth Kaldreth ith ever welcome here. I hope you enjoy your time on Arioath, m'lady."

He went down the line to Ryn and next to Gareth. "Therale Gareth Gruven," he said with a notable twinkle in his eye, "and I notihed what you did with your bow clip there. That ith very noble of you. I can think of many who would not have been tho fair in thuch a competishun."

Last was the happy Bowyer couple. "Therale, Tev and Myfanwy Bowyer," he said cheerily, "I'm thure you will reprethent Narim well. I can look after your children if you would like." With or without the children, he would return with his guards to the spectator's pavilion.

With the diplomatic greetings taken care of, Sal addressed the eight once more. "The tournament shall now start," he declared, "and archers should go to their respective circles, with eight being the closest to you now and one being the farthest. In numerical order, that's from one to eight, the circle assignments are as follows: Myfanwy Bowyer, Tev Bowyer, Gareth Gruven, Ryn Hyllid, Elle Trellian Kaldres, Damien Lanilathis, Medea Lightfoot, and Paul Tyndal." Sal gave them a moment to relocate to their respective circles before continuing with his instruction. Idly he noticed that there wasn't all that much variation in the contestants - not a scaled or furry one among them.

"The tournament shall consist of four rounds," Sal declared, "and each of the first three rounds will be the same. On my order you will take your first arrow and nock it. I will then give the command 'Fire when ready.' Fire that arrow and proceed to fire four more, and feel free to take your time in aiming. We will repeat that process twice more in each round for a total of fifteen shots per round. Bull's eyes are worth 5 points, in the blue circle gets 3, 2 for the yellow, and 1 for the green; no points are given for a shot landing outside of the green circle. The fourth round will have the top four scorers from the first three rounds, and tiebreakers will be held if necessary."

The human gave them several moments to take in all of that information. "All of you will leave today with a fine silver arrow," he said finally, "four of you will leave with more than that. Archers! You may nock one arrow."

All eight competitors readied one arrow in their respective bows. "You may fire when ready."

OOC: Each round can be roleplayed in one post; naturally Sal will speak in between rounds, so as always one post in between each of mine. Damien will be unable to participate in the tournament due to RL constraints but will be NPC'd with the permission of the player. Questions should be PMd or asked in the Ramble and Roll thread. Good luck!

[Aderyn te tuin Lothain]

Aderyn was late, it was one of the risks someone undertook when they had very little notion of time's passing and had a tendency to forget his own age amongst other things, what Era it was and the like. It was only to be expected afterall, and saying he was over three hundred patterns tended to be close enough not to worry about the exact Era and birthdate. But, just because he was late didn't mean he didn't feel somewhat miffed about it seeing as he was definetly in Arios for a reason - the archery tournament, or rather to watch how Elle went in it.

Standing beneath the pavillion with the other viewers, Ady stood calmly towards the back; ever seeking a reason not to be completely surrounded by people he didn't know. Working from the ground up, his legs were encased in black linen brigga, only visible from the kneecap upwards due to his feet being somewhat covered by heavy black leather military boots with the standard silver buckles of an officer and capped at the toes with iron. Around his waist was a black leather belt, a leaf shaped buckle in the dead center and the only blades he carried for the first time in Era's was his mythril longsword within it's black leather and silver capped sheathe, the wood and black leather cloth revealed, along with the jeweled pommel. His tunic however broke the pattern of black, an earthy green with golden embroidery bearing the marks of the House of the Twilight. The final garment, was a three quarter cloak that snapped at his heels when he moved, the same green as his tunic and clasped beneath his throat with a silver pendant. Of jewelry, he wore the Dragon's scale about his neck upon the silver chain of a former House of Whispers operative who was now buried on his own property, the mythril and ruby signet ring of his House - the second one as a certain water Dragon now owned the original and a plain silver band that had a nasty tendency not to come off. Ever.

Quietly Aderyn watched, his skin as pale as moonlight and only marred by a somewhat twisted looking scar upon his left cheek. His mouth was set into a wry smile of amusement even as his jade green eyes watched the range in idle curiousity behind his pitch black hair; the light picking apart deep azure highlights within the strands whenever he shifted; his pointed ears only visible due to the annoying fact his hair never positioned itself in any one place for a few seconds and seemed to have a mission to drive Ady towards insanity.

He'd wanted to see Elle use her bow pretty much ever since he'd noticed her attachment to the weapon; and simply the prospects of seeing her do something she enjoyed was more than enough reason to be here. Where else afterall would he be better of being in other than here? Home afterall was where the heart was. It was however oh so tempting to slip into Clarity and see how many people he could annoy by - on whim - causing their arrows to combust into flames or hardening the air directly before targets so people couldn't hit the target. But such was a little bit mean even if it would've kept him entertained for a while. Maybe another time.

[Medea Quilde'tal]

Just as Medea greeted Tev the pair were interrupted by Sal’s introductions to the combined gathering at the archery contest. Motioning to Tev that she would catch up with him later in the contest Medea made her way to her correct position. Medea waited in turn for the Lord Guardian to meet her once he had been introduced to the crowd. As he approached her Medea gave the official a brief bow before taking his proffered hand. Momentarily taken aback by his knowledge of her Medea nonetheless responded,

“ Your hospitality has been most gracious and I welcome your luck. ”

Once all the formalities had been completed Medea listened intently to the rules of conduct for the tournament; many a competitor had been eliminated for unknowingly failing to follow such rules and she was sure that such an action would never happen to her. Having relocated once more to her actual firing location Medea absorbed the further detail issued by Sal. She would need to fire three rounds of five arrows each at least, and score well if she were going to proceed into the fourth and final round. With such numbers of arrows the most skillful archer would undoubtedly win the contest. With the instructions finally given, and the command to begin the initial round, Medea turned to observe her own target.

She was now encapsulated within her own little world. Blocking out her fellow archers either side of her Medea paid them no heed; she would see well enough their own scores once she had completed her own salvo of shafts. Her emerald eyes scanned down the archery range to the target that stood motionless there. Her innate elvan senses magnified the multi-coloured concentric rings and focusing upon the scarlet centre circle. From the target Medea switched her gaze to the flanking undergrowth and treetop canopy. She had learned during the Paxian tournament that coastal breezes tended to play wicked tricks upon those unused to them, swirling first one way before suddenly switching direction. Watching the tips of the trees gently swaying she compared the wind strength and direction to that betrayed by the lower undergrowth. Only once she had judged the distance to her target and the amount she would have to aim off due to the capricious wind did Medea begin to loose her arrows.

Adopting the standard firing position, left side on to the target, Medea withdrew the first shaft from her quiver. With the weight of her light frame evenly distributed she squared her shoulders to the target. Methodically she gripped and inspected the arrow for any sign of damage to head, shaft or quills. She knew that there were none, she had inspected them all earlier that morning, but routines were hard to forget. Nocking the arrow to the bowstring Medea once more gazed upon the target, this time with an almost baleful glare as if daring it not to allow her shaft to strike the red bull. Easing her breathing, much as she did before performing her arcane meditation, Medea fought down the adrenaline rush of excitement of the moment that was beginning to sweep over her like a tidal wave threatening to sway her aim.

Slowly, and gracefully, she raised her bow to the vertical, gently pulling back upon the string. The sound of the composite materials straining against her demands sent a thrill down her spine as they fought against her needs yet betraying the promise of the strength it would impart to her shaft. With her pull at maximum extension Medea sighted from her eye, along the length of the shaft, through to the red spot that adorned the far target. Exhaling the breath from her lungs she stayed her breathing preventing the gentle rise and fall of her chest that threatened to knock her aim off even if ever so slightly. Momentarily the world around her appeared to pause, nothing existed apart from her, the arrow and the target. A brief gust caressed her cheek, heavily scented with the pungent aroma of the forest intermingled with the salt of sea spray. Gauging the crosswind for a final time, she waited patiently for a pause in the gusts, before finally allowing the bowstring to release and fire forward her chosen arrow.

Whilst remaining motionless, as if petrified by some mythical creature, Medea uttered a silent prayer to Carmelya to guide her arrow swift and true. Her instructors had always stated that the Gods played little part in the path of your arrows. As long as you adhered to the seven basic principles then, with practice and dedication, your shafts would strike home. Stance, grip, nock, draw, sight, aim, release. How many times had she had to listen to her instructors say those few words until they were etched into her brain?

Only when she had released the arrow did Medea allow herself the luxury of another breath. And yet still she remained motionless until she finally witnessed the strike of her chosen shaft. With the arrow now acting as a pointer for her remaining shafts Medea began the methodical routine for the remaining four missiles yet to be fired. The aim of each shaft was subsequently adjusted as she observed the fall of shot from the preceding arrow. Only when her salvo of five had been fired did Medea allow herself to observe the fortunes of her fellow competitors. Whilst there was little she could do about their own scores at least she would know how well she would need to do in the remaining two rounds in order to qualify for the final.

[Elle Kaldres Lothain]

The group on the archery range grew, quickly. Elle's bright green eyes followed each new arrival as they came, smiling gently towards them all, until she could count seven others beside herself. This was going to be a good brightening. She did her best to not fidget too much, but during the short waiting period she tended to shift from foot to foot, keeping her weight from staying on one of them too long. Sal's greeting caused those pesky butterflies that resided in her middle to stir into flight, becoming nervous at the start of this competition. She truly wanted to do well in it, and prove that Joseph Case was a good instructor.

The greeting from the Guardian of Arios caught Elle off-guard. While she didn't laugh at his lisp; she'd never dare to do something so rude, she did have a difficulty in understanding everything he said to her. She returned his friendly handshake firmly, smiling brightly as he faced her. "Thank you Heru en Amin. I'm sure I will." She inclined her upper body in a polite, yet not quite formal bow. The Guardian moved on to complete his greetings, and then Sal spoke again. He outlined the general requirements of the tournament, and nothing seemed to difficult to her. There would be three first rounds, with five arrows shot per contestant. Elle was pleased that she certainly had that many arrows to last.

She moved from where she stood, to find the circle she had been assigned to for the tournament. Being in the fifth circle, she had only to pass three by to find her own, as the eighth circle was closest to where the contestants now stood. Taking her place, she removed her bow from where it rested against her shoulder, and gripped it with her left hand.

At the command to nock arrow, Elle reached into the leather pouch at her side, and withdrew one of the mahogany coloured shafts that were kept within. Gripping the bolt with her right hand, she fitted it to the braided gut string of her longbow. Making sure the black edging of the fletchings was properly placed, she raised the weapon to face the target corresponding to her circle. Now, instead of nerves, Elle felt only calm. Hitting a target was something she did nearly every day, and the actions were comforting, and routine. Her eyes focused on the coloured target at the end of the range, fixing in her mind that she wanted to hit the bull's eye. Her lips curved into a tiny smile as she thought how very lucky she was this target wasn't flying through the air, cast from a catapult.

The call "Fire when ready" was heard. Elle was in no hurry, this wasn't a speed competition, and there was no one rushing towards her with the intent to spill her blood. She had all the time in the world to concentrate, and make each shot count. The smile faded, her eyes focused on the bull's eye, and she began to breathe regularly and with purpose. Elle's booted feet spread to a comfortable distance, just around shoulder-width apart. Her toes faced to the right of the target, at a ninety degree angle. The bow was raised, still held in her left hand, with the arrow notched to the string. Her left arm was straight, the right bent slightly to hold the arrow in place. Sighting down the shaft, she judged the distance to the target. With a fluid motion, Elle drew back with her right hand, bringing the arrow and string back with it. She adjusted the aim of her arrow to compensate. The tip pointed upwards just slightly, for the flight of the arrow would make an arc, rather than a straight line, even if it was a miniscule adjustment. She paid attention to the breeze that might be blowing; Arios was an Island, and islands often had strong sea winds. Elle made sure to compensate for that with her aim, as well. When she was happy with her sighting and aim, Elle drew in her breath as she drew back the string of her bow. Breathing was an important part of shooting, as she had been taught. Keeping her aim, she judged how hard to shoot the arrow, drawing the string nearly all the way back, to give it the impetus it needed to reach the target.

Her right hand loosed the arrow at the same time her lungs let go the normal breath she'd inhaled, and felt as much as heard the bowstring 'twing' as the arrow sailed forth towards the target. Four more arrows to go.

With the knowledge of where her first arrow landed, Elle used that to adjust the subsequent arrows, lining each of them up with the intention of placing them all within the bull's eye of the target. Slowly and methodically she drew her arrows, notching them to the string, and taking several minutes between each shot. Time was not her enemy here, and she didn't care that anyone was watching or if everyone was watching. Quite often on the Academy range everyone had paused to watch her shoot. She really rather enjoyed the attentions.

The bow didn't move, each time she reached for a new arrow. Only when she sighted did she make the miniscule adjustments for each shot, sighting, breathing, and letting go. At long last, the fifth arrow of her first round sank into the appointed target, and Elle was fairly sure she was satisfied with the results. Finally allowing herself to relax, she lowered the mahogany bow she prized so much, and let the rest of the world sink back into her senses. Shaking her right hand out, her eyes veered towards the other contestants, with the curiosity of finding out just how good the rest of the competition was.

[Paul Tyndal]

(( Haha! I was mentioned first, greeted first! Guess that means I am gunna win, eh? E... [sees the above posts, to which mine pales in comparison to]

Damn. ))

The fact that Paul was greeted first was not lost upon him, and he took it as a good sign, which he hoped would help him in the coming competition. From the look of his opponents, all expert archers if his guesses were correct, he would need all the luck he could get. Even though he knew he had some luck, he had gotten that bull's eye before, on a very early shot of his, even if it had been on a target completely different from the one he was aiming for. He briefly wondered what would happen if that same thing happened in the real competition that he was training for in the first place, at least partly. Even though his original goal was to become a ranger like his father, as soon as he had signed up for Sal's training and heard of the tourney, it became a goal of his.

Even though he thought that the lisp that the poor man who greeted him had was slightly comical, it did not make him terribly hard to understand, and Paul did not laugh at it. His mother would have most likely smote him with a ball of holy flame if he did. Paul looked at the sky, chuckling nerviously. Knowing his mother...

As the man finished greeting all of the competitors, Paul moved to his circle. He had an advantage, he had shot on this range before, but from his estimate of the skill levels of his opponents, that would not be that great of an advantage. From the looks of it, he would be the one trying to keep up, dispite his having used his range for most of his training.

As the call to "Fire at will!" was shouted by a herald, Paul quickly took an arrow from his quiver and deftly nocked it. Raising his bow, he looked at the trees, noting the wind in their branches. Making slight adjustments accordingly, he began to check off items on his mental checklist, making sure everything was in order. Sal had taught him this little trick, and he had said that, with time, it would become something that one did unconciously and as quick as a flash. For now, it took Paul maybe a few seconds to complete.

As he saw it, everything was in order. Though he could have missed something, it was very unlikely, since