Eye on the Prize - RPLOG
Participants
Date
26/2/479
Log
A light breeze flutters flags and pennants in the harbor along the bay. Posters and flyers announcing this event have circulated around Firmament and all sorts of beings have arrived both to watch and to participate. A table has been set up under a banner marked "SIGN IN HERE," at the gangplank of the Snowmark ship, Aurora. Looks like Sven is funding this.
A well dressed, young squirrel being walks towards this ship called the Aurora. "Ah, the smell of the ocean." he says in a distinct trill that any well-travelled being can trace back to Andrussya, "A contest of marksmanship, dear friend. Pity that I did not bring any rifle from the homeland." he adds with a sigh as he signs his name on the ledger before walking up the gnagplank.
Lucas walks up to table fully armored and equipped, perhaps a little more than one might expect for a shooting contest, but he seemed comfortable, ready. He came up behind Rokarion and waited his turn, signing his name and following up behind the familiar squirrel. "Heh, didn't see you with a gun yesterday." He pulled out his pistol and ploshed it on a shirt sleeve. "I hope I do well with this little thing, but it's served me well so far." He holsters it and claps the squirrel on the back. "I wish you luck."
The pygmy elephant accompanying Aloysius does likewise, signing his name on the ledger. "I suppose it's as good a source of entertainment as any." He peers at Lucas and offers him a smile and a curteous nod. "If you do as well as you did yesterday I'm sure you will do well." He looks back at his squirrel compaanion. "Now do try not to show off too much, and I'm sure a local rifle will do just fine. Or a bow for that matter."
Another much larger otter is present in the spectator gallery, near the back, for he's just over seven feet tall and not wanting to block anyone's view. The aquatic mustelid is clothed in a black tunic with similar trim to Lucas's outfit. If that wasn't a big enough give away for who he's here to support, his sledge hammer has a wooden signboard tied to it reading "Go Lucas" in a practiced hand in white paint. Other than that he has a matching headband with an embossed heavy clan mark on it, brown pants, and a mug of sugar roasted almonds in his non sign paw.
Kazel is wearing her leather armor and trenchcoat and a decorated musket on her back. The rat twitches her nose at the ocean air and brushes a lock of crimson hair out of her eye as she ponders the unfamiliar faces that surround her before stepping forwards as well and signing her name with her left hand.
A small ermine sits at the table. She wears simple clothing with the Snowflake insignia of House Snowmark on it. "We are glad to have you join in the contest," she says pleasantly as each contestant signs up, "Please remember that you are responsible for your own weapons and to follow all safety precautions." She has obviously been saying this over and over all day. "Please go up the gang plank and follow the signs," she says, waving toward the beautiful ship.
Spectators (And there are quite a few) are seated along the rails of neighboring ships and all along the docks. Out in the bay, there seems to be some activity as a number of beings in small rowboats and coracles finish preparing bouys with mounted targets affixed to them and make their way back to land.
On the deck of the Aurora, beings of all sorts mill around, many of them examining pistols, crossbows, rifles and all manner of ranged weapons. It is quite the varied contest. Servants in Snowmark livery are walking about, handing out cards to every contestant. Looks like it is time to draw lots for firing rounds.
The squirrel quirks a brow as the otter claps his back, before quickly shaking his head at his companion, "I would rather break my hand before I use a rifle of inferior quality. An Andrussian with a foreign rifle is a Thera'Doran drinking vodka made in Cliffside." the squirrel adds dramatically before he gets on the ship's deck.
"Excuse me. No, I am afraid not, good sir, now leave me be." the squirrel says as in one of his many apologies as he tries to dodge everyone who is pestering him about joining. "I fear I do not have a ranged weapon, unless throwing my dagger is an option." the squirrel says to his companion in teasing tone.
Lucas looks to the elephant and nods, patting at his hip. "I hope so, but it's just a pistol. Not going to be quite so accurate as a bow or a musket." He sees his brother in the stands, and chuckles, the huge otter standing out with his hammer and sign. He waves at the large otter and boards the ship. His eyes scan the crowd of people, swallowing down his anxiety. He takes a card from one of the servants and checks it. "Fifth, I'm not sure if that's good or bad."
Jugu takes his card as he reaches the top of the gangplank, quirking a brow at the number on it. "Hm.." He looks over the selection of weapons appreciatively. "Oh, I know my friend. But we're hardly going to find anything of good make here. Best enjoy it however we can, no?" He looks at Lucas. "Hm... second for myself."
Tezky gets a mouthful of almonds, very excited for the contest to begin. Although it was a hassle getting a place on a boat to watch, so far he had enjoyed the feel of the gentle rocking and the cool breeze from the ocean reminded him of home. He waves back happily to the otter, stating proudly to the being next to him that his brother was competing, and that he was sure he was going to win.
Kazel draws her card and smirks as she pockets it. She retrieves her rifle from its holster on her back and takes some time to make sure everything is in order with the weapon before nodding to herself. She eyes the competition once more, now that she is on the ship. Shouldn't be too bad.
"Oh, I wouldn't be so sure of that, my foreign friends," says a friendly voice beside Jugu. A bent little old tortoise has tottered aboard after the Squirrel and Elephant carrying a long case. He stops to get a card for himself and smiles. "Round 4," he says, then seems to remember what he was saying, "You really ought to take a look at the prize before you jump to conclusions." He then totters off to make his preparations.
An exhasperated servant is still trying to get Rokarion, er, Aloysius, to draw a number. "Sir," he says, "You may use any weapon you like. But you must either take a number or try to find a place to sit with the spectators."
Meanwhile, the first round of marksmen are called up. "The rules are simple," a stately reindeer is explaining, "There are seven numbered targets and seven numbered firing spaces. Whoever manages to strike their target in this round will progress to the next. For this round, there is only one shot per contestant." Seems simple enough.
On the upper deck, Sven Snowmark lounges in a seat among the spectators. Not in front of them, but right in the thick of things. "Is very exciting, da?" he asks Tezky, helping himself to a sugared almond from the otter's mug.
The squirrel eyes the tortoise and quirks a brow, "A fanciful prototype I am assuming." he answers back before shrugging and sighing, "very well, if you are going to pester me so." the squirrel says before taking a number from the hat, "Hmmm, I don't usually use throwing weapons. This should be interesting." the young being comments to Jugu as he reminds himself of proper throwing techniques.
The conversation between the squirrel and elephant makes Lucas feel a little self conscious about his weapon, drawing out his pistol. He sits down and sets the pistol out on his lap. He reaches into his pockets, producing a pouch that he unties and removes the string from, letting it lay flat in front of him. He empties the barrel first of the gunpowder the ball before beginning to disassemble the weapon, piece by piece.
The pygmy elephant reaches into his robes to produce his own personal weapon, a rather plain-looking muzzle-loading pistol. He checks it over and performs standard maintenance, cleaning ou the barrel and preparing a small packet of powder along with a few rounds of ammunition. He keeps his gun unloaded, of course. No use loading it until ready to discharge it. He looks over at the firing range and waits for his turn.
Tezky is happy to share, switching paws so the mug is on the same side as the leopard. "It is. Alway nice to see a friendly competition." He turns to look at the snowmew. "You kind of remind me of someone I met once." He shoulders the hammer sign and offers a paw. "Tezky Riverkin. Nice to meet you," he offers with a smile.
Kazel raises an eyebrow, this seemed too easy. The rodent shrugs and joins the other contestants of the first round. She waits till it is signaled that she is free to shoot, drops to a knee and takes a deep breath as she focuses on the target and pulls the trigger of her musket.
The first round of contestants take their shots, the thunder of guns mixing with the cheers and applause of the audience. This first round of competition is no difficulty for Kazel as her shot pings neatly off one of the target bouys.
The call goes out for the second set of contestants, this round including Jugu the elephant.
Sven grins at Tezky and takes the offered hand. "Sven," he says simply, not pointing out that he is both foreign nobility and the captain of this ship, "Pleased to meet. You are here for special friend, da?" he asks.
The squirrel yawns as he pats Jugu on the back, "Good luck, friend. Thought I must admit, you could have chosen a better craftsman for that pistol of yours." the younger being says teasingly before he takes out his dagger and begins throwing it from hand to hand as he considers the angle and the distance of the targets.
Lucas takes good care to check each individual part for any sign of significant damage, barrel, springs, screws. He's deep in his concentration, not so much as flinching from the volley of gunfire as he checks the pieces. After a while he's convinced there's nothing more he can do and begins to reassemble it, far more slowly and carefully than he disassembled it with.
Jugu throws his companion a crooked look. "It will do just fine, it is a tool Aloysius, not wine." He steps up to the firing line and loads his weapon. First the powder, then the pellet. He takes a firing stance, tucking his left arm behind his back, standing at an angle to his target, and bracing his right arm while keeping the elbow slack to deal with the recoil. He waits until the mark, then discharges the weapon at the target, the elephant briefly clouded by powder smoke.
Tezky shakes and takes his sign back up. "Yep. My brother is competing. He's the, well he's the one that looks like me." He chuckles and takes another swig of almonds, trying to remember where he had heard the name before.
Kazel retreats from the shooting area to make space for the next round and finds herself a relatively quiet place where she can watch the other contestants while reloading her rifle.
Jugu's shot is right on target! He will advance to the next round! Though some of his fellow shooters do not fare so well. There is a cry of surprise and pain as a heavy clan hippo, probably a slumming royal, is caught up in the backcharge of his own blunderbuss! Several servants hurry up to usher the pour soul away for treatment. Guns are dangerous!
"Hah!" crows Sven at the spectacle going on below, "Is always more exciting when there is explosion, da?" He elbows Tezky in the ribs and looks around the deck for the otter's brother. "Ah!" he shouts, "Is little one there, da?"
The third round goes without incident. Well, almost without incident. The tortoise, who came aboard after Aloysius and Jugu put on a bit of a show. While most of the competitors have brought bows or guns, the tortoise seems to have brought something completely new! His weapon looks like a crossbow at first glance, but where the groove for a bolt ought to be is instead a long, steel cylinder. The tortoise mutters to himself as he loads the. . . weapon? by placing a small metal ball in a chamber on the stock. When he fires, there is no explosion of gunpowder, no twang of bowstring. He hardly moves, but there is a sound like ziiiiiiiiIIIIIIIP! And one of the targets shatters, a line of spray vanishing behind it into the distance. . . Then the tortoise nods, turns, and totters away.
The fourth round goes rather badly. Of the 6 marksmen who step up to the rail, only one of them, a rangy hare in tattered ranger's gear seems to have any skill. Most of them go wide of the mark and two of them manage to misfire completely! Then the call goes up for the fifth round.
The good thing about using a familiar weapon is knowing its weight and centre of balance before hand. The squirrel already knew what he had to do, so he simply wasted his time gently stretching his arms. The squirrel quirks a brow at the tortoise, "Hmm, didn't think that using divine maths was an option." he commented before looking back at Jugu, "Nice shot."
Then the fifth round is called, "It appears it is my turn." De Vale says as he hands Jugu his hat. The squirrel steps up to his position, the odd choice of a dagger in hand, as he puts all of his weight on his right leg and raises his wrist slightly towards his forearm. The squirrel bites his lower lip and accelerates his wrist forward, releasing the dagger once his wrist was completely straight.
Lucas finishes resassembling his gun during the third round, reloading it on the fourth. By the time his round is up he's ready, pistol loaded, stretched out, focused. He waits, pistol holsted as he watches Rokarion's turn, fingers tapping on the leather of his holster. Once he had finished Lucas stepped up. He drew the pistol from his holster and aimed it out with a single hand, arm stretched out to his right side as he looked down towards the target. He took a slow breath in and held it, eye closing as he tried to still himself while pulling the trigger, firing at the target.
The elephant raises an eyebrow at Aloysius as he's handed the hat, but doesn't seem to protest this. He sits and waits, observing both his friend and Lucas.
