(no subject)
Characters: Arthur, Castor, Cloud, and Zombie
Date/Time: June 28, late afternoon
Location: Melee Island, shooting range
Rating: PG-13 for blood, violence, and language
Summary: Arthur's group graduates! ...Sort of.
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It had all come to this. A week's worth of training in sword fighting and marksmanship had led them here. And, sure, they had to whack each other with sticks since Arthur didn't have enough swords and the weapon stall was closed. And, sure, there had been some discipline problems here and there. But that was what the Plank was for.
Now, standing here at the target range and staring out at his young apprentices' faces, he felt...close to them. A sacred bond of trust and understanding. He almost felt as though he could read their minds. Knowing it was best not to keep them in the dark for too long, he stood up straight, readjusted his captain's hat, gave the wooden plank resting on his shoulder a reassuring pat, and addressed his pupils.
"Yo," he said. Realizing this wouldn't be enough, he continued. "I know what you guys are thinking. You're thinking, 'Why the hell did he drag us back out here to the range?' Well, there's a good reason. Today, is your final shooting exam. You each will have one target, one gun, one bullet, and one self. You will use your gun to shoot your target. Quick safety reminder: the barrel of the gun points at the bad guy, not yourself. Got that, Castor? Right, so, any questions?"
Date/Time: June 28, late afternoon
Location: Melee Island, shooting range
Rating: PG-13 for blood, violence, and language
Summary: Arthur's group graduates! ...Sort of.
------
It had all come to this. A week's worth of training in sword fighting and marksmanship had led them here. And, sure, they had to whack each other with sticks since Arthur didn't have enough swords and the weapon stall was closed. And, sure, there had been some discipline problems here and there. But that was what the Plank was for.
Now, standing here at the target range and staring out at his young apprentices' faces, he felt...close to them. A sacred bond of trust and understanding. He almost felt as though he could read their minds. Knowing it was best not to keep them in the dark for too long, he stood up straight, readjusted his captain's hat, gave the wooden plank resting on his shoulder a reassuring pat, and addressed his pupils.
"Yo," he said. Realizing this wouldn't be enough, he continued. "I know what you guys are thinking. You're thinking, 'Why the hell did he drag us back out here to the range?' Well, there's a good reason. Today, is your final shooting exam. You each will have one target, one gun, one bullet, and one self. You will use your gun to shoot your target. Quick safety reminder: the barrel of the gun points at the bad guy, not yourself. Got that, Castor? Right, so, any questions?"