// as long as there's bread and as long as there's an appetite //
Astaroth prides himself on being relatively good at fighting – at least when it comes to close quarters. He’s practiced for plenty of years utilizing his cane and anything else within reach for brawls and restraints. Yet, what’s evident to him lately is the fact that he’s very rusty when it comes to practicing with the cane itself but even worse when it comes to anything ranged. And rather than stay in the Grounds at the Barracks and make a fool of himself in front of so many people that knew him, well, he’s borrowed two bows and a few slings of arrows and slipped away into the recesses of the bone bridges. (He doubled up just in case his poor utilization broke one of them).
At least here he can curse himself out time and time again for missing something, alone.
And that’s precisely what he’s done over the last half hour or so.
It’s a cool day for the Grounds, in comparison to the heat of Torchline and the like. Clouds cover the sun partially here and there, adding a touch of relief for anyone that isn’t Ancient, but it offers enough variety for the butcher to be able to practice within harsh light conditions and more muted light. He’s even gone so far as to bring targets to set up on the rail of the bone bridges, standing quite a distance back, and practiced letting the bowstring glide through his calloused fingers, letting the arrows fly, and watching with absolute irritation as it goes wide or notches into the side of the bone bridge, or even manages to split the gap between the bones on the rail and fly out never to be seen again in the water below.
All in all, it’s going great.
At least here he can curse himself out time and time again for missing something, alone.
And that’s precisely what he’s done over the last half hour or so.
It’s a cool day for the Grounds, in comparison to the heat of Torchline and the like. Clouds cover the sun partially here and there, adding a touch of relief for anyone that isn’t Ancient, but it offers enough variety for the butcher to be able to practice within harsh light conditions and more muted light. He’s even gone so far as to bring targets to set up on the rail of the bone bridges, standing quite a distance back, and practiced letting the bowstring glide through his calloused fingers, letting the arrows fly, and watching with absolute irritation as it goes wide or notches into the side of the bone bridge, or even manages to split the gap between the bones on the rail and fly out never to be seen again in the water below.
All in all, it’s going great.
Astaroth
// as long as everyone you need is stepping in line, you are camouflaged //
