[Training] threading the needle

WESSEX out of the night that covers me She sighs inwardly. Not because she doesn't want to help, but because the problem of not being able to see as we could be easily fixed.Do you have magic? Can you light something if you need to?" Wessex asks with the tone of a teacher talking to a student who already knows how to do a thing and just needs a little prodding in the right direction. If not, then there should be flint and stone in a bag on the Ascended and some tinder in her fingertips. You never know when you're going to need fire (despite being rather flammable). Always be prepared. Or have a fire mage on hookup notice and suck the powers out of her. (Ha, ha, ha, Wessex the little girl scout is rolling in her grave right now). Placing the arrows in their quiver, she swings the open container on to her back, leather band across her chest. She then proceeds to point out the targets: The first are three in diagonal succession on close knit trees, representing a man's head, chest, and groin. Next is one opposite those, farther than usual, but easy enough to see - the proverbial person running up behind you. Fifth is high in a tree, a target suspended by two ropes and is perhaps the most difficult to hit. Sixth is much closer, but mostly obscured behind a bush. And the last was in the open, but had to be hit from behind a half-rotting log. Easy, right? Wessex then nods and takes up her stance somewhere in the middle of the circle of targets, grabs and arrow, notches it, pulls her elbow straight back, and releases after a brief pause. Moving quickly, she dances a graceful pattern of three releases, a pivot for the next, turning to find the archer in the trees, then swinging to her left for the bush, and then finally running and diving behind the log, the tips of her head visible as she comes up to fire the final shot, bow turned sideways. Some hit, some miss, but for Wessex the important thing is that she maintains her speed and never stops to see if the previous arrow hits. Next up; Rexanna black as the pit from pole to pole i thank whatever gods may be for my unconquerable soul