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#Post#: 79--------------------------------------------------
A Song And An Archery Contest
DIR By: High Captain Song
Date: June 30, 2023, 10:06 pm
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"Oh, the Glazier Caste found all through Port Cos,
Craft exquisite fine stained glass!
And the luminous rings round the three moons.
Have a beauty that is first class!
But no matter where you travel on Gor
There's one sight that none can surpass!
It's the dawn's light striking the well-toned curve....
Of the Skald of Kassau's perfect ass!"
The ribald boastful song gets a cuckle from the assembled Jarls
of my caste and there is much slapping of shoulders. It's the
final day of the fair and the time has come for the appraisals
of the Masters, who have spent all weekend sitting in judgement
of the Apprentice and Journeymen singers. Of course the purpose
is to offer constructive criticism and rare indeed is it for us
to pull a Singer aside and suggest, politely, that maybe they
should consider the life of a sailor before one of us burns his
robes or, more likely, some music critic burns them.
Once the judging of the more ribald Skalds of the North is done,
I am quick to say my farewells and wish my Castemates well until
the next Fair, presuming I don't see them on the road. Unlike
the other craft masters, Singers often run into one another,
given how most of us wander from town to town. I have other
reasons for wandering, of course, but it is as much out of habit
as it is from my newfound position as a ship captain.
With that business done, I wander over to the games area. It
occurs to me I have yet to get my usual round at the archery
contest in and it just wouldn't do for me to take a shot at the
prize.
A hop, skip, and a stroll later and I am at the Archery Range. I
gingerly place my cittern against the wall of the little lean-to
used to house the bows and the judges watching to make sure
there is no cheating. I offer a respectful nod as I inspect the
bows that are to be loaned out to those who did not bring their
own. I find a longbow whose grip is pleasing to me. One with a
70 pound draw-strength. They say that only a truly Free Man of
Gor can string a longbow. They also say that no Singer can ever
be enslaved. I doubt the truth of both statements, for I've had
many a slaver threaten to put me in chains, prohibitions against
our two castes feuding be damned. But by the truisms of Gor,
such as they are, I show I am no slave as I pull upon the old
ash bow and string it with surprising ease.
I am slighter than many Northmen, true, but there is a sinewy
strength to my 6'1" frame and strength to match the dexterity of
my hands from years of playing the cittern.With that done, I
take the bow, look down the sight, and take my measure of the
distance target. With a keen eye and a quick gesture I take one
arrow from the quiver, aim and fire.
*** rolls [1] 12 sided die (4) ***
I mutter a curse as the shot goes astray. In my haste to draw
quickly and impressive with the longbow, I did not account for
the wind. Still, at least I managed to hit the target, albeit
one of the outer rings. There are many who cannot manage that.
I ignore the jeers of the spectators and make my second shot,
taking care this time to aim and account for the wind.
*** rolls [1] 12 sided die (3) ***
Hmmph. Compensated too much the other direction this time just
as the wind shifted. That's my story and I'm sticking to it.
Perhaps the trick is not to aim at all, but to shoot quickly and
trust my reflexes will prove truer than the wind or my eye? So
much of my success in life has come from not planning after
all.... shall we let the gods do what they will?
Yes. Well, why not??
*** rolls [1] 12 sided die (1) ***
Ah. THAT is why not!
The best thing that can be said about that last shot was that it
did hit the target. It was on the outer ring, true, but that was
hardly intentional.
The jarls watching the contest are polite enough not to laugh.
Either that or they think I'm intentionally clowning around and
don't want to encourage me... which, to be fair, is just as
likely given my reputation as a trickster and joker-teller.
Alright then. Extra caution this time. Line up the shot. Wait
for the wind, which seems to be really picking up now.... must
be a storm coming or Loki is really having his way with me
today.
*** rolls [1] 12 sided die (6) ***
Well... that was the best shot of the round so far. But that's
the best that can be said. Close rand closer to the bosk's eye
this time.
Two arrows left. I wonder if maybe I should have been as
selective of my arrows as I had been my bow? These shafts might
not be the best type for this longbow. Admittedly, I didn't have
any criteria beyond finding fletching that matched my caste
colors. That may prove to be a fatal error. Hopefully not fatal
for me.
*** rolls [1] 12 sided die (10) ***
FINALLY!
I allow myself a smile as I draw the last arrow. I hold my
sight. I wait for the wind. I hold my breath to steady myself. I
let the arrow go. And I do something I rarely do in that moment.
I think a prayer at Loki, asking the trickster to guide my
arrow. Most men of the North pray rarely, for we do not wish the
gods watching over us. Some because they see it as weakness.
Others figure the gods should know what they need, so why bother
asking? Me? I just don't want to impose upon them. You annoy
them too much, they might send dooms instead of blessings. Of
course I've also named most of my slaves after the goddesses, so
that might explain my ill luck as well.
Ah well. Nothing else for it. Good or ill fortune, I release the
last arrow.
*** rolls [1] 12 sided die (3) ***
Yes. That is why we don't ask the Trickster for help. Rare is he
inclined to help those in need. More often than not, he'll trip
you up to spite you. Still, at least all my shots hit the
target. And I did get one perfect bullseye. One thing is for
sure. I need to take up my bow on the ship more often. I am
clearly out of practice.
(Final Score: 4+3+1+6+10+3 = 27)
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