I had to leave before everyone finished, but all the archers in this round used the coded targets except for Randinen and me. We used the CS system, which obviously needs some work. ;)
The hour is that of morn. Pale sunlight creeps across the lands, to awaken
those caught by dreams or slumber, for a new day is born! Yet there are those
who need not the touch of sun to realize they must be up and about, the Eldar,
ever wake. So it is not strange to find a large gathering at the training
grounds at this hour.
Today a contest of archery will be held, a skill mastered by many of the
Firstborn; for keen are their eyes. The volume of merry voices surpasses the
song of the morrow birds, all attention lies with the prepared field. Targets
are lined up, four in total, to allow two pairs shoot their rounds.
Behind the line from which the archers must ready their shot, an audience
gathers. Slightly away from the rows of seats is a lone figure, clad in white
and blue attire. 'Tis the Hirvaethor Randinen who acts as both Herald and
Arbiter it seems. Briefly he discusses final preparations with some of the
Tirith who aid him today. Two edhil await near a big wooden board, ready to
scribble names and keep scores.
Soon the event shall commence, for Randinen produces a list, and thereupon
names are listed of the contestants who will test their skill today.
Among who awaite to be on the line to shoot some arrow is Olathlinn with her
white old bow, heritage of an other time.
Her quiver on a shoulder let shows some blue feather fetch.She is all ear and
blushes to the tale hears from some other opponent near her.
Near to her fellow Hirvaethor stands Ist-Amra, surrounded by many of the
Rochonnath, who joke amongst themselves, jostling a bit, evidently eager to try
their skill against the others. A quick sidelong look and quirk of her eyebrow
quiets them down to hushed tones.
Dressed, as usual, entirely in shades of soft-sage is Tellenistril Faerlin--she
strides into the expectant atmosphere of the training grounds. It is obvious
that the elleth intends competing as her long mane of dark-sable hair is
gathered into a neat ponytail at the nape of her neck and on her wrists smooth
leather bracers can be spied. In her left hand she carries her bow, simple but
functional. The gold-flecks in her hazel eyes seem to sparkle as she catches
sight of Olathlinn, before wandering across to her. The linnor leans close to
the glindis "Mae Govannen mellon, and the best of luck too." She smiles and
then scans the quendi present, curious to see who else will compete.
Also among the archers, is the tall figure of a stranger. In bright blue shirt
and dark red pants, black hair caught back by a silver clasp, Lothdaimoth is
looking more festive than at any time since his arrival in the valley. A smile,
small but genuine, plays across his lips and at one point, he turns to scan the
audience. Dark eyes light on one elleth near the front and his smile widens to
a grin. The long black bow he carries is lifted in a half-salute to his
red-haired cousin before he turns his attention back to the targets. The sleeve
of one arm seems perhaps a bit bulkier than the other.
Her longbow Narmaen at ready, its dark yew wood showing evidence of a polishing
for the occasion, Tatharwen stands behind the line chatting amiably with nearby
spectators and participants as they wait for the competition to begin. She has
changed from her festival gown, but her burgundy tunic and breeches are still
decorative enough to befit the occasion. The Idherveld's manner is cheerful,
yet not altogether relaxed. Her distance from the line may betray a certain
ambivalence about competing.
Caelwen waves eagerly back to Lothdaimoth when he salutes her, a smile come
easier to her lips than in days past. A laugh, and she allows her hand to lie
in her lap as her face turns to study with interest her cousin's competitors.
Fearing to interupt chatting around her, Olathlinn simply smiles back to
Faerlin and nods to return her the good luck wish.
She put her bow on the ground and lean on it, head low, eyes closed, like if
she is praying.
Present among the gathering edhil is Dunedhelgur who spots on the white gown
which was seen, worn by the edhel in yesterday's race. Sling about his shoulder
is a long bow of yew, Eledhelea is its name. He seems edgy about the archery
event. Perhaps he's having butteflies before the competition commences..
A small group of edhil place two racks in between the two lanes, both filled to
the rim with arrows. It seems the fletchers had a busy week... Yet as they are
done, one signals to the Hirvaethor that all is ready. With a nod Randinen
unrolls the scroll in his hand, eyes skimming swiftly along the lines.
"Mellyn!" cries he in strong voice, climbing the grandstand to tower above all
else. "If I may please have your attention, if but shortly! For we have
gathered here this hour to witness a skill longkept by our kindred. For today
we shall witness a contest of markmanship, to prove who has the sharpest sight
and the steadiest hand."
Gesturing towards the contestants, Randinen turns to behold them with a broad
grin. "Lore has taught us the names of fabled archers of the past, yet this day
we shall see even greater names are still amongst us." Here he allows a pause,
turning back to the audience.
As the Hirvaethor begins his announcements, Tatharwen takes one more look
around...making a final decision about whether to compete or not? It seems she
has decided in favor, for she steps closer to the line and falls silent,
listening and waiting.
Caelwen twists in the dawn light, looking over her shoulder and up at Randinen
as her curls tumble further down her back. She squints faintly up at the sky as
she watches him, and grins at his final comment, slipping a sidelong glance to
her cousin.
Faerlin stops her chattering to a nearby edhel to listen attentively to the
Hirvaethor's words. She adjusts her grip on the smooth wooden form of her bow,
Delurhoss, and slips between the brightly-garbed elves that seem to adorn the
field like wildflowers on a meadow. A moment later she steps up beside
Tatharwen and whispers "Good luck mellon.." Falling silent again she surveys
the stretch of open space that lies between her and the targets.
Olathlinn just open her eyes and her ears moved a bit up and down as she
listening the Hirveathor.
Gathering a deep breath Randinen continues his speech, "I welcome especially
our guests, from Lothlorien, hither to watch and cheer, but also to compete!"
he gestures towards Lothdaimoth, offering a curt nod, "So indeed rouse a great
cheer when the archers are called forth, let all hear who your champions are. We only ask silence when the contestants prepare their shot. Grant them their
peace, doubtless they will repay you with a fine example of archery."
Again a pause, as a group of Tirith raises a cheer, till the Hirvaethor bids
them silence with stern gaze, "Yet let us not tarry longer. Ere I call forth
the first two competitors, I have a few short announcements to make to help
clarify. The competitors are divided in two groups. Each archer is given five
shots, after which they obtained a total score. The archer with the highest
score in each group shall be declared the victor."
"May Sulimo grant you all his grace." ends he facing the contestants, clearing
then his throat to announce the first two pairs.
Tatharwen smiles an acknowledgement to Faerlin's words. "And to you," she
returns quietly. A quick glance up and down the line shows other familiar
faces, as well. Like most of them, she returns her gaze to Randinen and awaits
his announcement of the competing order with tense anticipation.
Olathlinn ups her head and put her weapon on her sholder, ready if ever she is
named.
As the loud clear voice of the Hirvaethor ring out into the audience, the crowd
hushed in to momentarily silence as he they listen attentively. Dune twitched
about uneasily as the dreaded moment in at hand.. Nonetheless, he leaned while
tilting his head to listen intently with a rueful disquiet.
Few of those here has Lothdaimoth met, having spent much of his time until now
in seclusion. Still a few faces are recognized, Faerlin and Randinen among
them. His smile widens a bit as the announcements continue and then fades while
he waits to hear when he will be competing.
"Step forward! The first Pair!" exclaims the Hirvaethor, ceasing then his
speech as he looks at the scroll in his hands, "Dunedhelgur and Olathlinn!" A
cheer rises from the crowd, the names chanted in a greater volume.
"And the Second Pair!" continues Randinen in a strong voice, "A guest from
Lorien, Lothdaimoth!" an even louder cheer erupts from the seats, to grant the
Galadhrim a warm welcome, "And..." Those observant would notice the Hirvaethor
wincing, "Randinen..."
A stern glare the Herald who just spoke his own name, throws at a group of
Cunir, who stand cheery with laughter near the side of the Fields. Yet Randinen
is not one to forfeit a challenge, he winks at the Bowmen ere he hops of the
stage to make his way to the line.
A slender figure clad in green hurries up the path, tying a strap to the end of
her braid as she runs. She joins at her group of competitors and stops,
catching her breath for a moment. Whispering to the nearest, she wonders, "Did
I miss much, mellon?" (Glasiel)
Faerlin closes her eyes for a moment, a small smile curves at her lips--quite
possibly due to a modicum of relief that she will not be one of the first to
shoot. Slowly opening her eyes again she quietly observes as Olathlinn and
Dunedhelgur prepare to test their skills.
Caelwen's cheer, loud and heartfelt and accompanied by much applause, is set
in the slot after Lothdaimoth's name. She turns forward again when Randinen
steps down, then studies him a bit ere her gaze wanders. Her fingers tighten at
the edge of her seat, and her smile grows again when her eyes alight on Glasiel.
Another member of the Tirith climbs the grandstance to take the place of
Randinen, who finds himself now one of the contestants to his own surprise.
"Since our Herald will be busy the next five shots, I shall be so frank to take
over his tasks for the moment." smiles the edhel.
"First Pair, Dunedhelgur and Olathlinn!" he decrees, "You may prepare your bow
and ready your first shot! Once fired, remain at the line, your score shall be
noted and your arrows removed. Then the Second Pair may ready their first shot.
Now begin!"
Olathlinn takes an arrow from her quiver, lick the fletch of it, wield the bow
and notches the arrow.
Now. Lothdaimoth's eyebrows raise a little in surprise. Behind him, Caelwen's
high voice rings clear and true and he turns and flashes her a grin. As he
shifts his bow from one hand to the next (perhaps a little stiffly), he swivels
back again to watch those who will shoot first.
Faerlin half twists to whisper back to Glasiel "Only some announcements as to
the order of competition..Olathlinn and Dunedhelgur will go first, then
Lothdaimoth and Randinen.." She nods and then hastily silences as the Elisthir
prepares to shoot.
Dune stepped out of the crowd after his name was called for. He approached the
line bearing Eledhelea in his left hand. After a brief nod to Olath, Dune
whispered "May the best archer win!" smiling faintly. He picks a green fletched
arrow from his quiver and draws it close to his cheeks...
Dunedhelgur releases an arrow. It speeds towards the target and ... its the
Outer Ring. More practice is needed.
3 points
Dunedhelgur has taken 1 shot/shots.
Total Score: 3
A silence washes over the crowd. Whilst Randinen seeks a bow to use, the first
Pair is ready for their shot.
Olathlinn carefully aim.
Olathlinn releases an arrow. It speeds towards the target and ... hits the
Middle Ring. A fair shot.
5 points
Olathlinn has taken 1 shot/shots.
Total Score: 5
Glasiel nods gratefully at Faerlin and looks around at the competitors. She
sees her muindor taking his turn, and holds her breath while he takes his turn.
The elisthir heart beats really fast and blushes. She as never hope to do so
well. She looks at Dune, encouraging him silently.
"Three points for Dunedhelgur!" cries the edhil near the first target, ere he
removes the arrow.
"Five points for Olathlinn!" announces the elleth next to the other target.
The two edhil at the scoreboard hastily scribble down the score. "Second Pair!"
speaks the Announcer, gesturing towards Randinen and Lothdaimoth, heedless of
the rising encouragement from the crowd.
Dune's first shot was far to the right... it just hit the outer ring. He
sighed... feeling his heart throbbing up his throat.
Tatharwen watches the competitors, leaning around others to see. She smiles as
Olathlinn fires off her shot and nods in approval.
Caelwen, hushed and watching Olathlinn and Dunedhelgur shoot, leans foward in
her seat bounces just a little in excitement when Lothdaimoth's name is called.
The two archers have finished their first shots, and Lothdaimoth moves forward
a bit. An arrow is fitted carefully to the string of his bow, and he sights
along the shaft. The noise of the crowd is blocked away, the arrow loosed to
fly down the field towards the straw target.
You fire off an arrow at Straw Dummy...
Your arrow hits Straw Dummy, lightly wounding it!
ARB: Straw Dummy has "passed" on its turn to attack.
For some reason the HP amount didn't show up on this one - we counted it as 1 lost.
Again a hush falls over the crowd as new archers ready their shots, the lack of
sound a collective holding of breath. Eyes fly with arrows.
Whilst the Galadhrim prepares his shot, likewise does the Hirvaethor. Slowly he
takes aim, and almost immediately after Lothdaimoth releases his arrow,
Randinen makes his first shot.
Randinen equips a slender longbow to his hand.
Randinen launches an arrow...
Randinen's bowshot hits Straw Dummy, moderately wounding it.
OOC: The Straw Dummy loses 10 HP.
Faerlin glances at the tragets, making mental note of where the two arrows have
lodged themselves, and then back at Glasiel "Of course its the performing that
matters, the spirit of the event, rather than winning." With a flick of her
wrist the graceful yew-curve in her grasp is shifted to a vertical position.
The elleth's eyes run along the smooth form, carefully inspecting it. Pausing
from her inspections she looks up, smiling at the sucesses.
"1 point for Lothdaimoth!"
"10 points for Randinen!" cry two voices and the scores are kept.
"First and Second Pair, prepare your second shot!"
Olathlinn quiver as falled further in her back when she shot.
She is searching to grab her next arrow from it.
Not succeding, she sigh and pull on the stripe passing on her front, then she
takes that precious arrow and lick the fletching again before notching it,
shaking.
Olathlinn sets an arrow into position and carefully draws the string of her bow
back.
Applause erupts at the announcement, loud cries of encouragement for the
archers. Caelwen pouts faintly and briefly ere her voice is lifted high with
the others, a laugh tickling along her lips. A hush falls over the crowd again
as the first pair ready their shots.
Glasiel watches the second pair take their first shots, one eyebrow arching as
she sees one of the visiting Galadhrim competing. One of the injured visitors.
She crosses her arms, eyes narrowing slightly while she observes, but does not
make any comment.
Her eyes focus on the target, but the elisthir shakes from all part.
Olathlinn takes deep breath.
Lothdaimoth's grin grows a little wider at the announcement of his score.
Clearly, winning is not all-important today. A second arrow is selected and
nocked, and again he aims at the distant target and shoots.
You fire off an arrow at Straw Dummy...
Your arrow hits Straw Dummy, lightly wounding it!
ARB: Straw Dummy has "passed" on its turn to attack.
OOC: The Straw Dummy loses 6 HP.
Ever calm Randinen reaches for his second arrow. Holding light his bow, briefly
he peers at the First Pair, as if studying their skill. A faint smile graces
his lips, ere he draws his expression into a light frown, taking a stable
stance to position himself straight in front of his target.
In fluent motion the Hirvaethor raises his longbow, pulling the string with
might; the arrow rests firm betwixt his two fingers. His eyes narrow, to
project the line for the dart to follow. Till with a joyous *TWANG* the arrow
is on its way.
Randinen launches an arrow...
Randinen's bowshot hits Straw Dummy, mildly wounding it.
OOC: The Straw Dummy loses 1 HP.
Dune stepped forward again and drew another fletched arrow from the quiver.
Took a few quick breaths and place the arrow in the notch of bow. He breathes
slowly and take careful aim. Holding his breath momentarily, he let fly the
arrow..
Dunedhelgur sets an arrow into position and carefully draws the string of his
bow back.
Dunedhelgur releases an arrow. It speeds towards the target and ... hits the
Inner Ring. Decent shot.
7 points
Dunedhelgur has taken 2 shot/shots.
Total Score: 10
Olathlinn is not sure whether she can or not fire, her eyes looks everywhere,
she hold her breath and draw her bow a bit more back. Finally she can't wait
more.
Olathlinn releases an arrow. It speeds towards the target and ... hits the
Bullseye! Good shot!
9 points
Olathlinn has taken 2 shot/shots.
Total Score: 14
Glasiel, along with the rest of the crowd, cheers wildly for Olathlinn's
Bullseye!
Olathlinn lower her bows and can't beleive it.
Faerlin's keen eyes catch Glasiel's expression. The Linnor laughs very quietly
as a result "Don't fret Glasiel, I'm sure if Lothdaimoth were troubled overly
by his injuries he wouldn't be competing." She sidesteps to stand closer to the
Olvaristdil "Your brother is better with daggers I think..." These words are
followed by a cheered "Well done Olathlinn!"
Her own nervousness forgotten in the excitement of the competition, Tatharwen
watches each shot with anticipation and cheers along with the rest of the
crowd. As one might expect from a Quende, she enjoys the mere show of skill at
such an event, and the group spirit even amidst the tense competition. Her bow
and quiver rest easily on her shoulders, awaiting their own call to action.
The second round is completed! Hear! The scores are announced...
"Seven points for Dunedhelgur!"
"Nine points for Olathlinn!"
"Six points for Lothdaimoth!"
"One point for Randinen!"
The scores are added up, and where Olathlinn receives a cheer, Randinen has to
endure the mocking cries of his Cunir. Yet he turns to them with a merry wave
and greets their tauntings with bright laughter.
Peering out, he relaxes his stance and see that his shot had come closer to its
mark this time.. however the tumulteous cheers of the crowd says otherwise for
his opponent's shot. (Dune)
More cries of encouragement from the crowd! Caelwen's delighted giggles mingle
with the pattering clap of her applause before she falls silent again for the
next round-- it seems she likes these scores better.
The announcer speaks up again, "Now prepare the third shot! So far Olathlinn is
doing marvelously well, though Dunedhelgur is not far behind. The Second pair
are also close to each other, especially if our precious Hirvaethor continues
to proffer such a poor aim!"
The Counsel's movements are just perceptibly slower than before but still
smooth and even. A sideways glance flickers towards his opponent, showing dark
eyes that twinkle with fun. The third shot. The bowstring caresses his cheek, a
moment is taken to mark the path - and he fires.
You fire off an arrow at Straw Dummy...
Your arrow hits Straw Dummy, lightly wounding it!
ARB: Straw Dummy has "passed" on its turn to attack.
OOC: The Straw Dummy loses 5 HP.
"Five points for Lothdaimoth!"
Glasiel nods back at Faerlin, responding quietly. "Aye, that may be true. But
if he were more willing to see to his injuries, I would be less concerned over
his display here today." She smiles at the rest of her comment. "It seems my
brother and I are both here purely for the sport..."
The elisthir wield her bows again.
She softly call to Elbereth to help her regain countenance.
Olathlinn reach an other arrow.
The noise around are feading, movement seems slower.She notches it.
Olathlinn sets an arrow into position and carefully draws the string of her bow
back.
Enduring the teasing words, Randinen prepares his third shot. This time he
spreads his feet more apart, taking a moment longer to estabilish his aim. Yet
the the arrow soars towards the target... hopefully to hit a better mark this
time.
Randinen launches an arrow...
Randinen's bowshot hits Straw Dummy, lightly wounding it.
OOC: The Straw Dummy loses 4 HP.
The elisthir aim again, draw her bow a bit more.
How many shot again, she is thinking before shooting this one.
Olathlinn releases an arrow. It speeds towards the target and ... hits the
Middle Ring. A fair shot.
5 points
Olathlinn has taken 3 shot/shots.
Total Score: 19
Using a wider stance, Dune steadies his grip and draws yet another fletch and
notched it in place.. drawing back the arrow fully, he takes aim with minor
adjustment to the flanks. Now calmer in his mien, he relaxes his mind visualize
his shot before releasing it again..
Dunedhelgur sets an arrow into position and carefully draws the string of his
bow back.
Dunedhelgur releases an arrow. It speeds towards the target and ... hits the
Middle Ring. A fair shot.
5 points
Dunedhelgur has taken 3 shot/shots.
Total Score: 15
"Four points for Randinen!"
"And five points for Olathlinn!"
"Add five points as well for Dunedhelgur!"
Again the scores are added, showing Olathlinn still in the lead with the first
pair, and Randinen with a light advantage in the second pair. "Yes, that is the
third round! Now let us see what brings the fourth! Prepare your shots!"
Applause spatters around like a light rainfall, low conversation marking the
pause between rounds ere the crowd hushes again.
The sound of his name, however quietly spoke, winds its way through the tumult
of the crowd to fall on Lothdaimoth's ears. And before he takes his next shot,
he turns around to look inquiringly at Caelwen - but no, it wasn't her. A small
frown wrinkles his forehead, but is swiftly banished and he shrugs, just a
little. Back to the target for the next round.
Again the shaft is selected, Lothdaimoth making a great show of checking its
length, the fletching, even while surpressed laughter lurks in his eyes.
Finally, this arrow too is whistling down the long field towards the target;
not without an almost invisible wince on the part of the shooter.
You fire off an arrow at Straw Dummy...
Your arrow hits Straw Dummy, mildly wounding it!
ARB: Straw Dummy has "passed" on its turn to attack.
OOC: The Straw Dummy loses 2 HP.
Olathlinn peers at Dune, wondering if her mellon feel well as he usually shot
better than her.
She lower her bows to fetch an arrow again and do as she do with all the
previous one.
Olathlinn sets an arrow into position and carefully draws the string of her bow
back.
She aims with deep slow breathing.
Olathlinn releases an arrow. It speeds towards the target and ... hits the
Bullseye! Good shot!
9 points
Olathlinn has taken 4 shot/shots.
Total Score: 28
Takes another arrow and draws it in place... sweat runs down the side of his
face. He prepares for the fourth shot, trying hard not to humilate himself too
much...
Dunedhelgur sets an arrow into position and carefully draws the string of his
bow back.
Dunedhelgur releases an arrow. It speeds towards the target and ... its the
Outer Ring. More practice is needed.
3 points
Dunedhelgur has taken 4 shot/shots.
Total Score: 18
Olathlinn is near in tear.
Her face is really red till the tips of her ears.
A slender and nimble finger caresses the length of a bow--the bow in Faerlin's
hands as she continues watching, and admiring, the skills of the archers and
cheering at the resulting sucesses. From time to time she chuckles as the
Hirvaethor doesn't seem to have fortune as his ally today.
This time the Hirvaethor takes even a longer moment to ready his shot. Slowly
he notched the arrow, pulling gently the string, seeking aim. Only when a mark
is found, does he pull with might the cord...
...anew the arrow is on its way to hopefully find the target.
Randinen launches an arrow...
Randinen's bowshot hits Straw Dummy, lightly wounding it.
OOC: The Straw Dummy loses 3 HP.
Glasiel continues to watch the rounds closely. Especially the visitor's shots
does she examine, and so his wince does not escape her notice. Again her eyes
narrow slightly, and her foot begins to tap the ground quietly.
Neither does Caelwen miss Lothdaimoth's faint wince, and she slumps faintly in
her seat, plucking at her lip fretfully with slender fingers and forgoing her
chance to cheer.
"Two points for Lothdaimoth!"
"Three points for Randinen!"
"Nine points for Olathlinn, again!"
"And three points for Dunedhelgur!"
"Now it all comes down to their final arrow!" speaks the announcer, gesturing
towards the scoreboard. "All four archers still have a chance to win their
pair. Prepare your loudest cheers, for they are nigh done..."
Finally. The last shot. Lothdaimoth stands quietly, drawing a deep breath and
letting it out. His fifth, and final, arrow is placed on the string and he
readies himself for the shot. More stiffly than before (but only another of the
First Born would even notice), he draws the string to his cheek. The target is
found, the arrow loosed; and the counsel lowers his bow with perhaps a bit of
relief. Relief that is so swiftly masked by cheer that it might not ever have
existed.
You fire off an arrow at Straw Dummy...
Your arrow hits Straw Dummy, moderately wounding it!
ARB: Straw Dummy has "passed" on its turn to attack.
OOC: The Straw Dummy loses 5 HP.
Dune sensing his fate is almost sealed, merely laughed... He gave his muinthell
a side glance and smiled. His smile tells her of his resign ...
Plucking at the last fletched arrow, he grip hard and pause long enough to take
aim...
Dunedhelgur sets an arrow into position and carefully draws the string of his
bow back.
Dunedhelgur releases an arrow. It speeds towards the target and ... hits the
Bullseye! Good shot!
9 points
Dunedhelgur has taken 5 shot/shots.
Total Score: 27
The elisthir lows her bow, rolls her sholder.
She is all tense.
SHe wield her bow,
close her eyes,
reaches for an arrow
"A last time" she whispers.
Olathlinn sets an arrow into position and carefully draws the string of her bow
back.
The last round! Nimble, quick eyes of the gathered Quendi follow arrows as they
fly toward their targets, a faint tenseness in the crowd at this last chance
for their favored competitors.
"Oh pleaase make that a normal shot!" she plead like the target can hear her
wish.
Bringing a hand to his brows Randinen seems to swipe away a few droplets from
his brow. In silence he regards the target which awaits his last arrow, his
grey eyes intent upon the center. Not letting his gaze stray from the bullseye,
the Hirvaethor takes aim... slowly...
"Manwe willing..." murmurs he, ere he frees the arrow from his grasp, watching
his arrow fly forth, in suspense.
Olathlinn releases an arrow. It speeds towards the target and ... hits the
Bullseye! Good shot!
9 points
Olathlinn has taken 5 shot/shots.
Total Score: 37
Glasiel lets out a joyful cheer at her muindor's last shot, momentarily
forgetting about the injured Galad.
Randinen launches an arrow...
Randinen's bowshot hits Straw Dummy, moderately wounding it.
OOC: The Straw Dummy loses 5 HP.
Olathlinn doesn't move.
She is hesitating on jumping full of joy and crying of disbelieve.
"Good shot, Dunedhelgur and wonderful Olathlinn!" Faerlin calls, her voice
touched with a little surprise at the Elisthir's repeatedly accurate shots. The
Linnor paces across to Olathlinn, guessing it acceptable to do so now..a
friendl hand is placed on the copper-haired elleth's shoulder.
The last shot however did return justice back to the Tellenistron as it hit the
bull's eye. It was his last desperate attempt to ransom back a little diginity
back..
Olathlinn unwield her bow and takes the hand of Faerlin in her free one.
"Thanks, I wish you done as well mellon!"
With a grin at Randinen and a murmured word of congratulations, Lothdaimoth
fades back into the crowd. If anyone was to look, they would see a dark head
next to one bearing coppery curls - Lothdaimoth has joined his cousin among the
spectators.
Thus ends the final round of the first two pairs....
"Five points for Lothdaimoth!" cries the edhel near one of the targets, looking
up at the scoreboard.
"Also five points for Randinen!" declares the other edhel, looking over at the
other lane.
"Nine points for Dunedhelgur!" speaks the elleth near his target in a
triumphant voice. Though her cry impales compared to the cheer roused by the
edhel monitoring Olathlinn's target...
"Another NINE points for Olathlinn!"
"Watch out for that head wind, mellon Faerlin!" he whisper grinning as the
elleth passed him. (Dune)
A raucous cheer for the final scores! All are clapping and stomping their feet,
and in the midst of this racket Lothdaimoth appears near Caelwen. A fond,
vaguely proud smile is given from the younger cousin to the elder.