In Need of Training (Marshall/Duma)

[Marshall]

Thunk.

Marshall sighed as yet another arrow missed its mark and buried itself into a nearby fence. This was the third time that the simple training target, one of many lined up in a row, had somehow evaded Marshall's attacks, and it was starting to frustrate him. It had been like this ever since Ilia; Marshall wasn't exactly a sharpshooter, but now he couldn't hit the broad side of a barn. Marshall thought about what the problem might be as he prepared another arrow. Perhaps he was distracted by his new surroundings? Maybe he could correct that by clearing his mind for the next shot...

Thunk.

This time the arrow did hit its target, about halfway between the centre of the target and the edge. It was better than nothing, and it meant that Marshall could at least hit a still target. On the battlefield, however, his opponents weren't going to be still targets, begging for him to hit them. One mistake out there could cost him his life. Giving a sigh, Marshall walked up to the target and started to collect the stray arrows in preparation to leave.

[Duma]

Duma was relatively new to Bern and it's territories. He had settled in to a mercenary compound for the time being. He earned his keep by repairing some broken weapons. His name was listed on the information wall as an available mentor. Thanks to his scar, tall figure, and ever present frown, few people have asked for his lessons.

"Bern, Land of wyverns." Duma looked up into the sky hoping to see a glimpse of one in the air. No luck, the only thing he could see is blue sky and a few passing clouds. He took a deep breath and let out a sigh.

[Marshall]

Finally finishing the task of collecting his arrows, Marshall took a brief moment to see if anyone was watching. There was a few chuckling spectators, but for the most part everyone else was busy focused on their own training. Thank the gods. Marshall could certainly do without comments from the peanut gallery right now. All he wanted to do now was collect his things and leave for the day. In fact, that may have been exactly what he would have done if he didn't hear someone's voice as he was about to leave.

"Bern, Land of wyverns."

Huh. Who said that? Marshall looked over in the general direction of the voice. Eventually, his eyes rested on a lone figure standing away frown the crowd. He was tall, rather bulky, and had a constant frown plastered onto his face. Oh yeah, and that oddly shaped scar that reached across his face. Marshall had overheard a few rumors from the training mercenaries about this guy; blown out of proportion as they often are, but in general it seemed that he wasn't exactly popular around these parts. However, this guy was supposedly offering lessons of some kind, and to be honest, Marshall probably needed them. Giving a small sigh, Marshall approached the mysterious man.

"...You're offering lessons, aren't you?"

[Duma]

Duma glanced down at the person talking to him. Guess he heard me talk out loud. He recognized the young lad as the hunter who was picking up arrows a while ago. Duma was able to read him. Target practice went poorly.

"Yeah. I am." Duma spoke plainly.

"I'll say this now. I am not an archer. But.. That doesn't mean I cannot be of service."

[Marshall]

Marshall nodded after the man spoke. He realized that he'd probably be better off learning from someone who had perfected the bow, but he'd take what he could get. For a moment, he thought about exchanging names, or perhaps a handshake, but he decided against it. He wasn't here to make friends, he was here to train, and that's what he intended to do. Formalities could wait for later, after his training was finished.

"I understand if you can't teach me too much when it comes to handling a bow. I'm sure that I'll figure that part out eventually."
Marshall paused for a few moments to think, pulling at his bowstring idly.
"I was hoping that you could help me get more used to more realistic situations. As you might have guessed, practicing against fixated, emotionless targets isn't going to help me improve anything except my aim."

[Duma]

"I am not an easy teacher. But if my experience can help you live another day, then it is a success. I can teach you what I have seen from sharp shooters who fought along side me, and those who fought against me." He offered his hand out to shake, as a sign of courtesy.

"My name is Duma. We can start immediately. If you are willing. I honestly have nothing else to do today, but to hope to catch a glimpse of native wyvern in flight."

[Marshall]

Ah, so that's what he was talking about earlier when he was speaking, Marshall thought to himself. I guess that means that he's not from around here, then. After all, he probably would have seen a wyvern out here by now if he'd been here for a while... But it's not like that information means anything right now. Marshall's mind soon turned to the subject of the man's outstretched hand in preparation for a handshake. Marshall wasn't originally intending on introducing himself, but there was no sense in getting off on the wrong foot for no reason. Grasping Duma's hand with his own, Marshall spoke. "My name's Marshall. I haven't got any plans today, so the sooner we start, the better."

A few seconds later, Marshall retracted his hand and took a few steps back and gripped his bow with both hands. His grip quickly tightened on the bow as he started to speak again. "So, where do you usually start when you do this? I wouldn't know myself, as this would be my first lesson, but I presume that you've dealt with students who've used a bow in the past."

[Duma]

Heh, looks like someone is eager to learn. He put his hand down shortly after the shake.

"Marshall, it is nice to meet you." Duma spoke politely.

Duma pointed back out to the practice targets.

"We'll start back at the practice targets. I need to observe how you shoot as both a bystander and as a target. But first I want you to inspect your bow for any damages and make sure the string is well taught. You won't be improving at all if your weapon is in poor shape. If there is any damage I'll see what I can do to fix it." As he spoke, Duma felt his sides searching for something. His hands passed over the hilt of his iron sword, it wasn't what he was looking for.

"One moment please."

Duma walked passed Marshall towards the nearest weapons pile the grounds provided. He grabbed one of the wooden training swords from the pile of practice weapons. He gave it a few swings and deemed it unworthy and threw it aside. He grabbed another one and did the same until he found a wooden sword that appealed to him. He walked back to the young hunter.

"Alright. Is your weapon in order?"

[Marshall]

After answering the swordmaster's act of courtesy with a simple nod, Marshall turned his attention to his bow, as instructed. At a glance, it looked fine; the bow curved normally and the string was taut, at least at a level that Marshall was comfortable with. However, upon closer inspection, it was apparent that the weapon had gone through a considerable amount of wear. The iron had quite a few small dents in it, and any paint that it may have had long faded away over the course of a few years. Despite this, Marshall decided to remain silent. He wasn't exactly fond of the idea of anyone else touching his weapon. I'll just hope he doesn't notice it for now.

Marshall looked up from his bow to find Duma standing next to two piles of practice weapons. One, the larger one, consisted of a large variety of weapons. The second pile, the smaller one, consisted entirely of wooden practice swords. It seemed that his mentor had been searching for a weapon that fit his liking, and now he had found it. Well, he seems to know what he wants from a weapon. I'll take that as a sign of experience. 

Well, it seemed like the two of them had finished their preparations. When Duma approached Marshall and asked about his weapon, Marshall quickly gave his reply. "Um, my weapon is fine. I'm ready to move over to the targets," he said hurriedly, hoping to avoid further questioning.

[Duma]

Duma nodded. He walked over to the practice targets and stood a safe distance off to the side. Here he could observe Marshall's marksmanship with out getting hit by an arrow.

"I will be watching you from here. Shoot as you normally would. Do not worry if your shot hits or misses. After 5 shots I will offer some commentary and you will repeat 5 more shots." Duma cracked his knuckles, then rubbed the back of his neck.

"After that, I will take the place of your target and we will work on your reaction time to close range attacks." Duma waited for Marshall to take his place out on the training field.

"Any questions before we start?"

[Marshall]

Hmm. My reaction time to close-ranged attacks? I guess that means he's going to take a few swings with that practice sword... at me. I guess I'm going to have to get used to that eventually, and I's rather it be here than on the battlefield, but I still haven't had much experience with someone trying to attack me up close... Well, apart from that one time, but I highly doubt that I'll be hit with an attack of that manner on the battlefield. Hopefully.


"No, sir. I haven't got any questions."
Wait, "sir"? It had certainly been a while since he had used that word. It seemed as if Marshall was starting to form some kind of subconscious respect for Duma, for whatever reason. Perhaps it was his experience with the sword; maybe it was the way that he maintained his demeanour, despite that being something Marshall wasn't too fond of. Whatever the reason, Marshall decided he would figure it out later. Right now, he had to focus on his shooting technique.

Taking his place opposite the target, Marshall lifted his bow in front of him in preparation to shoot. Standing tall, he slowly shifted the angle that he was holding the bow and nocked an arrow. After a few seconds of breathing and focus, Marshall let the arrow fly. A split second later, the arrow found itself buried into the ground. It was disappointing, but Marshall tried to take Duma's advice and not let it bother him. Bringing his bow back into position, Marshall repeated the process for 4 more arrows. In the end, three arrows had found their way to the target. Marshall turned his head to face Duma before speaking.

"So, what did you think?"

[Duma]

Duma observed Marshall's shots. His stance is just a bit off from what I am used to seeing. Three out of five shots, not terrible I've seen worse. He lost a tiny bit of focus after the first shot. He approached Marshall to give him an answer to his question.

"You need more practice. You will not be able to improve your precision until the bow feels like second nature to you. This is the same for any weapon."

"Now as I said before, I am not an archer. But I am merely going to tell you what I've seen from other archers." He spoke in a calm but firm tone.

"Adjust your feet, pull them apart a bit more so they are closer in line to your shoulders. I know posture is important with any weapon, but you should relax yourself slightly." Duma did a mock version of the stance but holding up the wooden sword instead, it looked a little silly, but he got the footing right.

"Don't lose your focus even if you miss. Just focus on your next shot. Focus solely on the target, no distractions, no hesitation. Understand?

[Marshall]

Marshall watched as his teacher suggested and demonstrated a new pose. The new pose wasn't too much different from Marshall's original one, but Marshall was still impressed that Duma was able to analyze Marshall's pose, as well as some of what he was thinking, so quickly. Another testament to his experience. Sigh. Marshall couldn't help but feel a little jealous that someone who didn't use a bow could still offer him advice on how to use one.

Well, I might as well get started. Lifting his bow up once again, Marshall started to reposition himself. He shifted around in an attempt to mimic Duma's position. After a few seconds, after he had taken up what he hoped was the correct position, Marshall started to focus in on the target. He was not to hesitate- hit or miss, he needed to keep focused. Marshall also attempted to clear his mind in order to free himself of distractions. After a few seconds of hesitation, Marshall started to let the arrows fly.

If you had asked Marshall to describe what happened next, he probably couldn't tell you. Sure, he remembered nocking and firing his arrows, but he would have no idea if they had hit or not until he stopped shooting. Perhaps he had followed Duma's advice a little too well, but that was besides the point now. At that moment, all that Marshall cared about was if his arrows had hit.

4 out of 5.

It wasn't anything too spectacular, but it was certainly an improvement from last time. Not exactly sure what to think, Marshall simply turned to face Duma again, signalling that he was ready for his teacher's input.

[Duma]

Duma looked over at the target and saw 4 out of 5 arrows managed to hit their mark. This was a slight improvement from his prior attempt. He was satisfied with this outcome for now. He approached Marshall.

"Much better." He gave a small smile. It might have looked awkward to anyone used to seeing his permanent scowling face.

"You need proper study from a more experienced archer in the future. But your focus is admirable. Archers need to stay calm and collected or risk losing their target. Continue to hone your skills and you will prosper." He gave Marshall a pat on the shoulder.

"Archers are a vital part of any team. You guys support your group by picking off weakened enimies. And you soften up difficult ones. Your class avoids the frontlines and you must rely on your team to kill opponents before reaching you. Many successful war strategies have been developed to target archers and healers first and remove their supportive capabilities from the battlefield." He spoke calmly.


"Now this next part will hurt." He lifted up the training sword with a slight grin on his face.

"I need to see how you react to an enemy coming after you. This will also give you a chance to see how an opponent reacts to your shots. I am going to walk to the practice target and take its place. I will approach you then hit you with the training sword. Go grab your arrows from the field. Use that time to think a bit on how you will shoot at me. When you are ready take your stance and give me a signal. Do not worry for my safety, I'm used to this sort of thing."

He began walking towards the practice target.

[Marshall]

Marshall couldn't help but give a smile of his own, a reaction both from being praised for his improvement and seeing something that wasn't a scowl across Duma's face. It was clear that Marshall was starting to get more comfortable, as his face started to show emotion that wasn't, well, nothing. Both Marshall's shoulders and his grip on his weapon had started to loosen as well. He had started to think of Duma of more than merely his teacher. Perhaps that was even more important than he would learn while training, but for now it only served to make him more comfortable in this situation. Eager to continue his training, Marshall gave Duma a nod before he made his way over to the target to collect his arrows.

As Duma suggested, Marshall thought about how he would fire at his teacher when the time came. He needed a solution that would both let him fire off an arrow while also minimizing damage from Duma's strike. After a few seconds of mulling it over, Marshall decided that he would attempt to dodge Duma's strike first, then fire an arrow afterwards. He figured that dodging a blow would give Marshall an oppurtunity to attack while Duma was recovering.

Grabbing the last of his arrows, Marshall returned to his previous location and took up his position. It was a slightly modified version of the position that Duma had suggested, the difference being that Marshall bent his knees a little and rose up slightly on his feet in preparation to spring backwards. Once he was comfortable, Marshall shouted out to Duma.
"All right, I'm ready when you are," Marshall said, punctuating his words with a nod.