TLV: IC Contact

[sixfeetofdirt]

Careful; I bite.

Comments

[weaponwithoutpurpose]

"Perfect score."

He spreads his hands out, gesturing in front of them. "Ten out of ten."

[sixfeetofdirt]

"Oh, so you win?" he drawls. "How shocking. I shall have to bring a referee next time."

[weaponwithoutpurpose]

"Why?" he wonders innocently. "You don't trust my scoring?"

[sixfeetofdirt]

"My answer is completely dependent on what you claim to do with what you've won," Astarion replies, equally innocent.

[weaponwithoutpurpose]

"Hm."

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."

[sixfeetofdirt]

"You hardly needed to win that from me," Astarion laughs softly, and squeezes his arm. "I'd be happy to."

[weaponwithoutpurpose]

"Good. You want to take a few more shots first?"

He takes his arm down. "You know...in case you need the practice?"

[sixfeetofdirt]

"It's good to stay exercised," Astarion agrees. "A few more each?"

[weaponwithoutpurpose]

"Sure. Want to chase some again? I made sure to put in plenty of stupid quail flocks."

[sixfeetofdirt]

"So thoughtful," Astarion chuckles. "Would you like to try some arrows from Faerun?"

[weaponwithoutpurpose]

"Yeah. Let me see?"

He holds out a hand for one. "Did you make these?"

[sixfeetofdirt]

"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."

[weaponwithoutpurpose]

"How the fuck does it do that?"

He takes the arrow and inspects the tip.

[sixfeetofdirt]

"Magic," Astarion says with a shrug. "I'm no artificer. I just kill things with them."

[weaponwithoutpurpose]

He takes the arrow and notches it in the bow.

"Well, let's go have some fun."

[sixfeetofdirt]

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.

[weaponwithoutpurpose]

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.

[sixfeetofdirt]

Astarion giggles delightedly, watching not one but four birds drop back to earth.

"They're very useful."

[weaponwithoutpurpose]

"I - wow." He doesn't quite know how to express what he's thinking. "You'd be unstoppable," he manages to laugh.

[sixfeetofdirt]

"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."

[weaponwithoutpurpose]

"And how many packs of wild dogs do you usually come across?"

He trots through the clearing and finds the bird, pulling the arrow from it.

[sixfeetofdirt]

"During our misadventure? Enough that I would have a few decent arrows on me," Astarion chuckles. "Smokepowder was more useful with humanoids."

[weaponwithoutpurpose]

"Smokepowder?" he laughs. "Why?"

He hands the arrow back to him.

[sixfeetofdirt]

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."

[weaponwithoutpurpose]

"Yeah," he answers, still grinning. "We call it a grenade, though."