Jacob's ready this time as he pulls back the arrow, choosing a bird to the left. He lets the arrow fly, watching as it does exactly what Astarion said - taking down multiple targets after he hits the first.
"Holy shit," he breathes, not even bothering to hide his admiration.
He takes the arrow and inspects it, frowning in thought.
"Alright."
He draws the bow back, letting it fly into the clearing. But when he turns to ask Astarion about what was supposed to happen, he's suddenly in the fucking clearing.
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"My answer is completely dependent on what you claim to do with what you've won," Astarion replies, equally innocent.
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He kicks up a few leaves as he walks. "Well, I didn't think I'd win. But I was thinking maybe you help me find some nice clothes to add to my closet."
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"You hardly needed to win that from me," Astarion laughs softly, and squeezes his arm. "I'd be happy to."
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He takes his arm down. "You know...in case you need the practice?"
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"It's good to stay exercised," Astarion agrees. "A few more each?"
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"So thoughtful," Astarion chuckles. "Would you like to try some arrows from Faerun?"
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He holds out a hand for one. "Did you make these?"
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"No, no. At home, I'd just buy them."
Astarion draws an arrow which has a pointed loop at its tip.
"An Arrow of Many Targets. It strikes its first quarry, then a further three close by."
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He takes the arrow and inspects the tip.
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"Magic," Astarion says with a shrug. "I'm no artificer. I just kill things with them."
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"Well, let's go have some fun."
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Astarion grins in answer. It doesn't take long to hear the shuffling of avian life in the undergrowth.
"Aim to the target furthest to the left or right," he advises, and then tosses a pebble into the bushes.
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"Holy shit," he breathes, not even bothering to hide his admiration.
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Astarion giggles delightedly, watching not one but four birds drop back to earth.
"They're very useful."
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"The downside is that the subsequent strikes don't do as much damage as the first. But in a pack of wild dogs, say, it can make quite a difference."
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He trots through the clearing and finds the bird, pulling the arrow from it.
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"During our misadventure? Enough that I would have a few decent arrows on me," Astarion chuckles. "Smokepowder was more useful with humanoids."
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He hands the arrow back to him.
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Astarion tucks it back in the quiver.
"Don't tell me you've never hurled an explosive at someone who was giving you trouble, Jacob."
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"Ah, well. It's a similar experience for the wretched souls at the receiving end, I'm sure."
After some rummaging, he produces an arrow with a small glass bulb at its tip, filled with something blue and shimmering.
"Try this one. Just aim at an open space."
It's an Arrow of Transposition, that will have him teleporting to the spot the arrow lands, but he's not going to tell him that.
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"Alright."
He draws the bow back, letting it fly into the clearing. But when he turns to ask Astarion about what was supposed to happen, he's suddenly in the fucking clearing.
"What the fuck?!" he calls out, looking around.
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