Much Needed Repairs

[Facemouth]

He inhaled deeply through his nose as he walked through the city gates, and grimaced. The city always smelled unpleasant to him, like something unnatural. The smell of body odour, horse manure, and garbage tickled his nostrils and made him want to sneeze. All around him was the constant tell-tale chatter of many people in one place and the rumble of horse drawn carts and carriages. It unsettled him. His hearing was sharper than most, but with so much noise, he could not pick out one sound from the next. He could not hear where his prey was, what direction it was coming from... he shook his head and smiled softly. "Sometimes, you think to much like a predator for your own good", he said to himself, chuckling. His moment of amusement was short lived, however, as he remembered why he had come to the city. He glanced down at his hand, at the two halves of his treasured bow. He grunted in displeasure, remembering how it happened. "Fucking bear" he growled to himself. He had never been attacked by a bear before. His bow had been slung across his back, and was probably the only thing that kept the bears swiping paw from ripping through his body. He never thought he would be so happy to have such a large, aching bruise on his back. "Better than bleeding to death" he thought with a grimace.

He turned in the direction of the local bowyer and made his way down the cobblestone street, his feet kicking up a cloud of dust and his parka gently flapping in the light breeze. He avoided the few glances he recieved and ignored the calls of the streetside hawkers, keeping his eyes straight ahead. He reached a building with a hanging sign depicting two arrows crossed over the curve of a bow and entered, determined to get business finished as quick as possible.

[Karuka]

Mark was sitting on the counter of his father's shop, as usual, carving arrows -- as usual. In fact, there was nothing to mark this day as abnormal, as far as the well-tanned half-elf was concerned.

That is, until the burly archer came through the door, holding a cleanly broken bow in his hands.

Bouncing up, Mark looked at the bow and whistled.

"Something sure did a number on that. Here for a new one?"

[Facemouth]

The first thing Jarvis noticed as he walked into the shop was the smell of freshly cut wood. He always seemed to notice smells before anything else, and this smell was by far more pleasant than the outside he just came from. From the store front a youthful voice remarked "Something sure did a number on that. Here for a new one?" Jarvis let a soft smile escape his lips. That had to be Mark, the shopkeep's son. He liked Mark, from his half-elven features to his spry personality. He certaintly had the same talent his father did when it came to bows and arrows. Jarvis gave a small nod in response to Mark's question. "Aye, a new bow that a bear can't break" he looked sadly down at his wrecked bow, "unless there is a way to repair my old one. It is very special to me."

[Karuka]

"I'm pretty much just the fletcher here, it's my dad that makes most of the bows. He's out back, I'll go get him."

Mark hopped lithely over the counter and jogged lightly to the back of the shop to get Josam, his father.

When the full-blooded Elf stepped into the shop, he looked Jarvis over and quirked an eyebrow at the broken bow. He'd made it before his son was born, and even inscribed the crest upon it, so he recognized it instantly.

"A Harland. I haven't seen one of you in here in a couple of decades. Mark said that a bear got to that one...and some damage he did."

Josam couldn't have looked more different than his son -- sharply pointed ears, and chiseled features, along with blue eyes and light brown hair, as compared to the boy's darker complexion. Their eyes, though, traveled along the bow with the same appreciation for the damage done.

"Well, son, hand it over, and I'll see if it can be repaired at all...a break like that, though, I doubt it. Were you injured as well, in the attack?"

[Facemouth]

With a grunt and a wince Jarvis placed his broken bow in Josam's expert hands. The elves were well known for their expertise with bows and arrows, and Jarvis trusted nobody else but Josam when it came to his archery equipment.

"Nothing but a bruise and some scratches. If my bow hadn't been there, I would be much morse worse for wear. Thankfully, i'll only have trouble sleeping on my back for about a month," he responded to Josam's inquiry.

"You mentioned you havn't seen a Harland for nearly two decades. Did you..." Jarvis swallowed, "did you know my father, Elias Harland?"

[Karuka]

"Elias Harland...Elias Harland...yes, I met the man, a few times. A rancher, wasn't he? Good man, he seemed. Good head on his shoulders. Last time I saw him, I was doing a little repair work on this bow. He mentioned that he'd be giving it to his son soon...I'm guessing that you are that son. What happened to him, anyway? He'd only be in his fifties, not old for a human Not young, but not very old."

He spoke as he inspected the bow, and then handed it to his son.

"Mark, what do you think?"

The younger bowyer shook his head, looking at it. "Even if we repaired it, which would be hard and expensive, it wouldn't be the same. It'd likely snap if drawn too hard."

[Facemouth]

Jarvis' eyes became distant, "Yes... yes, i'm the son he spoke of." The next part came with some difficulty. "He... that is, my father, he died when I was in my twenty-first year. Of what, I am not certain." Jarvis coughed and quickly changed the subject, " both you and your son seem to agree that my bow is beyond repair. If you don't mind, I would like to browse your wares for something suitable to replace it."

Jarvis did not mean to sound so snippish, but the subject of his father has always been a sensitive one. With a slow breath, he took a look around the clean and well stocked shop. The floors were made from a fine, durable wood, probably pine, as was the front counter. It all shone in the lamp light. Josam always kept his shop meticulously clean. Along the wall to his right, many different bows and crossbows hung, each one bearing Josam's mark of craftmanship. Though anything Josam crafted was good quality, it was the display case on the other side of the room that held Josam's true skill. Mastercrafted bows, all kinds; guilded, jeweled, reinforced, resided there. Jarvis could never hope to afford any of those, so instead he made his way to the more common bows. Weaving his way between a couple tables displaying various arrows, Jarvis came to the wall, his eyes already searching.

After a few moments, he asked Josam in what he hoped was an easy-going voice, "Is there any bow in particular that you would recommend?"

[Karuka]

"If you want a longbow, I recommend talymer," started Josam. "Ulder for a regular bow or a shortbow. Talymer requires a lot of strength to draw, but lends much power. Ulder lends a little more precision to a shot -- not much, but the wood has a good grip."

[Facemouth]

Jarvis rubbed his chin thoughtfully and nodded, "I think I will do well with an Ulder bow. Not as big as a long bow, but not so small as a short bow, and I need something that I can use to take down harder-to-hit targets. How much will that be, friend Josam? And if you don't mind, I would like the crest from the old bow inscribed upon the new one."

[Karuka]

A slight frown marked Josam's face as he tried to recall the price of Ulder bows off the top of his head, but Mark popped up with a solid bow of the dark brown wood, handing it to his father.

"Three sixty-five, dad."

Josam nodded. "We'll say three-seventy and two hours to carve in the crest, and you can be on your way with your bow, lad."

[Facemouth]

Jarvis eyed the fine bow, and grunted in satisfaction, digging the required price out of his pouch and placing it on the table. "2 hours you say? That's fine. I am quite thirsty anyway, and the tavern is tickling my fancy. I will be back." With a nod and a quick smile, Jarvis made his way back out on the street.

Roughly two hours later, Jarvis stepped back into the shop, the door banging shut behind him. His walk was full of anticipation as he made his way to the storefront counter.

[Karuka]

Josam made a final incision into the dark ulder wood and looked up with a smile.

"Right on time. Would you like to try it out before taking it home?"

[Facemouth]

With an eager nod, Jarvis exclaimed "The bow looks fine indeed. If you have an area fit for shooting a few arrows, I would be more than happy to give it a try!"

[Karuka]

Mark bounced up from where he'd been fletching some arrows, reaching for his ashen shortbow.

"YES! It's been so long since I've been shooting against anyone but dad. Come on, this way!"

Beckoning eagerly, Mark grabbed a handful of test arrows and shoved them into a small bucket before racing out the back door and into the 120 foot long testing field. He was ready to take some pot-shots at the well-used targets if Jarvis was.

[Facemouth]

Taking some of the same test arrows, Jarvis followed Mark out to the archery range. The range itself was a simple affair. About 120 feet long, it had two targets at the far end, each made from tightly packed hay, and painted to a bulls-eye. The field was just as well kept as the shop. The grass was maintained, the chalk lines that indicated where the archers stood were kept white and visible, and even the small wooden table, with it's matching chairs, were polished to a shine.

Eager to take his first shot, Jarvis knotched once of the test arrows to his bowstring. Stepping up to the chalk line, he took a moment to get a feel for the distance of the target, and the direction of the wind. "South-west," he muttered to himself. He set his stance, left leg forward, and left shoulder towards the target. Steadying his breath, he drew the bowstring to his ear. The pull was slightly different than his other bow, he noticed, but the grip had a good feel. He would get used to it quickly.

Sighting down his arrow, he aimed at the target, slightly higher and to the left to compensate for the wind. Abruptly, he sucked in his breath and held it for a second before letting the arrow fly. There was a slight tingle as the fletches on the arrow brushed Jarvis' cheek, followed quickly by a sharp "twang", then the arrow was flying. It took less than a second before the arrow lodged itself in the second ring from the middle, on the left side of the target. It wasn't exactly where he was aiming. Jarvis had hoped the wind would take the arrow a bit more, but he was happy with the shot none the less. With a satisfied smile, he turned to Mark. "Not to bad for a first shot, I think. Let's see how you fair." he said, gesturing Mark to the chalk line.

[Karuka]

"Ah, well...we'll see."

Mark had trained with bows for at least sixty years, and in all sorts of weather. It really wasn't a fair match, but he wanted the customer to think otherwise.

Nocking his arrow, he drew back and let it fly, hitting his target just a hair closer to the mark than Jarvis's had hit the target alongside.

[Facemouth]

Jarvis chuckled, "Not bad at all, my friend! I suspect you could put your arrow anywhere you like, considering your father's profession AND elven blood. But here, let me have another go, I think I have the feel for this bow now."

Stepping up to the chalk line, Jarvis nocked another arrow, and went through the same steps as before; the distance, direction of the wind, his stance, the slowing of his breathing. This time he prepared himself for the unusual feel of his bow's pull, and let fly his arrow. It whistled through the air, straight and true, striking the target an inch from the middle. Nodding, Jarvis looked at Mark, "that's about the best shot i'll ever be able to make. Let us see what true skill you have."

[Karuka]

"That's a good shot, take down almost anything. And true skill...I'm the son of a bowyer that works in his shop and tests out the merchandise. It's not a fair contest."

Nocking an arrow with a straight shaft and fletching, Mark angled it and let it fly so that it hit the dead center of his target with a satisfying thud.

"All I do all day is practice shooting and fletch arrows. Might make a bow or two in any given month, but that's my dad's job, really."

[Facemouth]

Jarvis admired Mark's second shot. "With skill like that, you would make an excellent hunter. But, you have a family business to inherit, one day. Make your bows, and learn well from your father, because you will be him one day and many will need your services. As for me, I best be off. The day grows late, and I have traps I must check."

Hitching his new bow over one shoulder, and his traveling pack over the other, Jarvis extended a hand to Mark for a handshake. "Is your father back in the shop? I would thank him again for this fine bow."

[Karuka]

Mark shook Jarvis's hand firmly, nodding.

"One or the other of us is always in the shop, so he'll definitely be in there, probably shaping another bow."

[Facemouth]

With a final nod to Mark, Jarvis stepped into the shop. As Mark had predicted, Josam was indeed shaping another bow, somewhat larger than the one Jarvis had just aqquired. "I must be off, Josam. I have traps to check, and a certain bear to teach some manners to. Thanks again, for this fine bow. It shoots wonderfully." Jarvis shook Josam's hand warmly, then made his way back out onto the street, back out of town, and into the wilderness.

[Karuka]

Josam chuckled. "Good luck, then, young man, and if ever you need another bow, or repairs to that one."

He watched the human leave his shop, and then went back to working on the composite longbow in his hands -- for now, just a properly warped piece of yew.

[ooc -- Transaction complete. Facemouth loses 370 gold, 130 remaining. Gains one ulder bow and 100 exp for good IC interactions.]