Art by: RecycleBean
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Arlynn - The ArcherBorn: Giervalk
Age: 25 Height: 5ft 11in Species: Human Abilities: Highest Order Level 5 Archer of the King's Army Excerpt from The White Falcon: Taking Flight"Arlynn was tall and lean, all legs. Her chestnut brown braid hung down the length of her back. She carried a bow and a quiver of arrows slung across her shoulder. A large dagger was strapped to the top of her thigh; the sheath hovered just above the rim of her tall leather boots. Arlynn wore a forest green tunic with long sleeves. She wore brown leggings that tucked into the tops of her tall leather boots. Everything fit her as tight as a glove and was designed to stay out of her way during battle."
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Arlynn before The White Falcon
Arlynn sat on her father’s shoulder and look out over the crowd. She was in awe.
When her father announced that he was going to the Royal Tournaments, she knew that she must go. But she would not beg. Instead, she was extra good about doing her chores – before she was asked. She made comments on how grown up and strong she was when she carried in the firewood (one log at a time). And she attempted to make a bow and arrow from things she found on the forest floor.
Her careful planning had paid off. She was at the Royal Tournaments.
First, they saw the horses and their riders perform amazing tricks. Next, the warriors demonstrated their brute strength by tossing giant logs. Now they were waiting for the archers.
Archery had always fascinated Arlynn, but she was not an elf. And she was a girl. They would never let a girl into the King’s Army.
To ensure the spectators could see the talent of each individual archer, the elves wore different colors. The fletching, or feather, on each arrow matched its owner. The first was dressed in a golden yellow. He took aim and easily hit the middle of the target.
The second, dressed in green, rapidly shot four arrows. When Arlynn looked at the target the green arrows encircled the first. The crowd went cheered. The applause resonated in Arlynn’s chest. Emotion flooded her body and her eyes welled up with tears.
The next archer was smaller in stature and wore red. A lavender sugar berry was tossed up into the air. The arrow met its mark. Next, the archer with the golden yellow tunic took a small apple sized fruit and held it up for the crowd to see. Everyone ooed and awed. Some scoffed.
A man in the crowd cried out, “That is impossible.”
That was the queue the archers had been waiting for. They wanted to prove the doubter wrong.
“You doubt the King’s Army sir?” the archer in golden yellow chortled.
The crowd laughed in return.
He took the fruit, placed it carefully in the sling and pulled back. When the archer in red nodded the sling was released and the apple took fight.
During this spectacle, Arlynn watched the archer in red. Not the crowd. Not the archer in golden yellow. Not the fruit.
Nock. Aim. A nod to the archer holding the sling. Track the flying target. Release.
Arlynn held her breath. The red arrow sailed across the sky and hit its mark. Apple rained down on the crowd below.
The crowed burst out with applause, whistles and cheers. Arlynn and her father followed suit.
Then a hush fell over the crowd.
Arlynn looked up and the archer in red was riding on the shoulders of the green and golden yellow archers. The archers had removed their head protection and tournament masks. A long golden braid had fallen from the red archers helmet.
The slender archer in red was indeed an elf and a girl. No more than twenty. Her eyes twinkled. Her smile was small but pride radiated from the young girl.
Arlynn knew at that moment she would, without a doubt, be an Archer in the King’s Army.
When her father announced that he was going to the Royal Tournaments, she knew that she must go. But she would not beg. Instead, she was extra good about doing her chores – before she was asked. She made comments on how grown up and strong she was when she carried in the firewood (one log at a time). And she attempted to make a bow and arrow from things she found on the forest floor.
Her careful planning had paid off. She was at the Royal Tournaments.
First, they saw the horses and their riders perform amazing tricks. Next, the warriors demonstrated their brute strength by tossing giant logs. Now they were waiting for the archers.
Archery had always fascinated Arlynn, but she was not an elf. And she was a girl. They would never let a girl into the King’s Army.
To ensure the spectators could see the talent of each individual archer, the elves wore different colors. The fletching, or feather, on each arrow matched its owner. The first was dressed in a golden yellow. He took aim and easily hit the middle of the target.
The second, dressed in green, rapidly shot four arrows. When Arlynn looked at the target the green arrows encircled the first. The crowd went cheered. The applause resonated in Arlynn’s chest. Emotion flooded her body and her eyes welled up with tears.
The next archer was smaller in stature and wore red. A lavender sugar berry was tossed up into the air. The arrow met its mark. Next, the archer with the golden yellow tunic took a small apple sized fruit and held it up for the crowd to see. Everyone ooed and awed. Some scoffed.
A man in the crowd cried out, “That is impossible.”
That was the queue the archers had been waiting for. They wanted to prove the doubter wrong.
“You doubt the King’s Army sir?” the archer in golden yellow chortled.
The crowd laughed in return.
He took the fruit, placed it carefully in the sling and pulled back. When the archer in red nodded the sling was released and the apple took fight.
During this spectacle, Arlynn watched the archer in red. Not the crowd. Not the archer in golden yellow. Not the fruit.
Nock. Aim. A nod to the archer holding the sling. Track the flying target. Release.
Arlynn held her breath. The red arrow sailed across the sky and hit its mark. Apple rained down on the crowd below.
The crowed burst out with applause, whistles and cheers. Arlynn and her father followed suit.
Then a hush fell over the crowd.
Arlynn looked up and the archer in red was riding on the shoulders of the green and golden yellow archers. The archers had removed their head protection and tournament masks. A long golden braid had fallen from the red archers helmet.
The slender archer in red was indeed an elf and a girl. No more than twenty. Her eyes twinkled. Her smile was small but pride radiated from the young girl.
Arlynn knew at that moment she would, without a doubt, be an Archer in the King’s Army.
