PART V - MEET THE TRAINERS - THE RANGERS (II)

The Foxkin stopped in front of his group and removed his bow, setting it against the wall of the tent. He looked at what he had for new recruits.. Master Trainer Thorn had informed him that there was something special about his new class, but refused to share more, saying it was a ‘surprise’. The whole walk here, he had been eager to see what the surprise might be. He looked over his four recruits, and all were Beastkins, which was rare. Usually there is at least one Elf in the mix.

The trainer evaluated each of his pupils. The two Catkins would make excellent Rangers. There was a Gnoll, who would be a little difficult to work with, but he’d trained Gnolls before and could certainly do it again. But his last recruit was a Salamander. And not just any Salamander, but a Fire Salamander! He’d only seen a few in his life, and had only ever trained one Salamander, and that one wasn’t able to breathe fire! This would be new and exciting. Thorn was right, this really was a surprise.

“Good day everyone,” the Foxkin began, “My name is Trainer Reynard, and I am your Ranger instructor for your time here. With hard work, study, and practice, I have no doubt you can leave this camp at least at Silver Tier, if not even low Gold tier. It won’t be easy, but if you are willing to conquer the challenge, your life will be forever changed.

“Before we begin, just a little information about what we are doing here today. Largely, we will review what all is happening tonight and tomorrow, and how the training program will be organized and scheduled. Commandant Xera believes recruits should have as few surprises as possible, so they can concentrate on their class studies, and I agree with them. Should you have questions, please ask.”

The Foxkin clapped his paws together in a display of excited readiness. “So, to get started, I’d like the four of you to introduce yourself and tell me about the skills you already know.”

The four Beastkin recruits looked at each other, confused. They turned back to Reynard and Jesca said, “Trainer Reynard, there are five of us.”

Reynard’s happy smile showed the briefest of cracks. “Five?”

Jesca gestured down and to her left, to where a smiling Callie was standing at something vaguely like attention, holding her new bright red bow upright in one hand, with the tip resting on the ground. The little Gnome waved, before adding a cheery, “Hi!”

“What are you doing here?” Reynard asked. “Which group are you supposed to be with and why aren’t you there?”

“This one,” Callie said with a light tone.

“Seriously, where are you supposed to be?” Reynard asked again, this time with a sterner inflection.

Callie’s own smile faded just a smidge and her tone was slightly more icy. “Here. I’m supposed to be here.”

“This is not funny, Little One,” Reynard chided.

“And I’m not trying to be. I’m a Ranger, just like these four.”

“No. You’re not. You must have the colors backwards.”

Callie reached into her pocket and took out her wooden block. “Are these your colors?” she said, still trying to keep a cheerful tone.

“Of course they are,” Reynard said, snatching the block from the Gnome’s hands. “Who did you steal this from?”

“Nobody. It was given to me when we did the registration intake thing earlier.” Callie was getting irritated now, but working to keep it off her face and keep her voice reasonably cheery. “That’s what they gave me and they told me to come here. So I’m here.”

Reynard looked up into the faces of his Beastkin students with confusion. “This can’t be.” A Gnome? Impossible! There was certainly a mistake. A practical joke by Thorn. Yes, that had to be it. This was the surprise, a joke at his expense. Well, he didn’t have time for it.

“Little Gnome, please return to whomever is pulling this elaborate prank and tell them that, while I appreciate some good natured fun, I don’t have time today.”

Callie stood her ground and said nothing, narrowing her eyes slightly in challenge, but trying to keep a smile. All the other recruits shifted, as a group, one step away from her. Reynard just glared. “This is not a prank,” she said flatly.

“Listen,” Reynard began through gritted teeth. “I have been very pleasant up until now, but I simply don’t have the patience for childish Gnome games. You are not a Ranger because it is not possible for a Gnome to be one. Now kindly go to the group you are supposed to be with.”

Callie’s return glare intensified. “This is the class I am supposed to be with. And frankly I find your line of reasoning pretty racist.”

Reynard placed his hands on his hips and stared spiked daggers at Callie. “Listen here you Little Pip. I don’t care what game you're playing, or what mental problem you have going on in your thick pink head, but listen to me closely. You are not a Ranger, and you will never be one if I have anything to say about it!”

Little Pip? Did that mean what it seems like it means?

Callie gritted her teeth, struggling to maintain what was an obviously-fake smile. “Jesca, is ‘Little Pip’ something bad?”

“Uh …. It’s not a nice thing to say.”

“That’s what I thought.”

Reynard and Callie both stood their ground, daring the other to back down.

Callie drew in a slow breath. “Listen to me, Mister Foxy McFoxface. So far today I have had my world turned upside down, have been harassed by Dwarves, have almost been seduced to death by a smoking hot green-skinned tree lady, been scryed twice and then had my skin set on fire so they could scry me a third time. I’ve found out I have a curse that will kill me dead if I don’t join this damn army. I’ve been almost eaten by a giant spider in the showers, found out that my crotch is hot pink, and nearly pummeled by Bear Guy just trying to get here. And the day isn’t even over, yet! I am here because Master Trainer Thorn tested me, gave me your damn brown and yellow chunk of wood, and told me to specifically report here. If you have a problem with that, I suggest you take it up with him, but I am not leaving.”

Reynard just stood there for a moment, his eye twitching on his whiskered face. Foxy What-face? Then he knew how to catch this Gnome in a lie. “How could Master Trainer Thorn possibly have tested you. There is no way you could use a longbow.”

“You’re absolutely right about that.” Callie said.

Reynard got a smug look on his face.

Callie lifted the bright red bow. “But see this? Once he knew I had an Advanced Archery Perk, he tested me with this. And then he gave it to me, knowing that regular bows would be too big for me to use.”

Reynard’s expression faltered for just a split moment. “That is a children’s toy.”

“Yeah,” Callie said, “But it will still shoot stuff.”

“Fine. Show me.” Reynard looked around. “Get an arrow and shoot that tree over there. I’d lay odds you don’t even hit it”

Callie glanced at the tree. Behind it was another tent. There was no way to tell if it was occupied.

“I will absolutely do no such thing,” Callie sneered.

“Because you aren’t able to?”

“No, you idiot. Because I have no way to know how hard that tree is, and if my arrow glanced off, it would fly right through that tent and could kill someone.”

Reynard realized she was right on that. It was not a safe shot to take. He quickly looked around, and saw a stack of baled hay not far away. Pointing at the Tigerkin, he said “You, get a quiver of arrows and one of the cloth targets from the tent and all of you come with me.” The Foxkin turned and stormed off.

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“What a complete asshole,” Callie said quietly to herself, shaking her head in disbelief.

“What are you doing, Little One?” Thucax asked.

“Probably ruining my chances of getting a passing grade,” Callie said while Kaisess ducked into the tent. The Tigerkin soon emerged with a full quiver and a stiff piece of rolled up linen.

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The five Ranger recruits followed behind Reynard, who walked over to take a position approximately thirty meters from the hay bales. “Take four arrows and hang the target,” he said to Kaisess. Quickly, Kiasess ran and hung the cloth, jabbing one arrow into each corner to hold it in place. The target was a series of four basic rings, with the center one painted red.

Callie eyed the target and took a series of deep, cleansing breaths. She tried to will her heart to settle down and the pissed-off adrenaline in her blood to evaporate. Kaisess quickly ran back and joined the other four recruits, who were doing their absolute best to not be noticed.

Callie started to raise her bow, but Reynard quickly interrupted. “Your arrows?”

Lowering the bow, she glared at Reynard. “It’s enchanted. Endless Arrows.”

He said nothing and only scowled.

Callie again took a deep breath. She envisioned in her mind the space from herself to the target. She saw the path the arrow would take. How the magical arrow would leave the bow. How it would fly true through the air. How it would hit the target dead on. She did all this and then in one single fluid motion, raised her arm straight and her draw elbow high. She pulled the string and again marveled as the ghostly arrow seemed to simply spring into existence. The string reached the exact right spot and the two fingers holding it flexed just the tiny amount needed for the bow to spring to life. The magic arrow launched, showing minimal arc at this short range, as it ripped through the distance.

For Callie, time seemed to stop. The arrow hung in the air, neither moving nor stopping its flight. In her mind, she traced the path it would take. She saw how the magical feathers would make the arrow stabilize as it spun. And she could see where on the target it would pierce. Just above and to the left of the red center circle.

“Dammit,” Callie groaned. “High to the left.” She glanced at Raynerd.

“Again,” he said, no tone at all in his voice.

Again, Callie began to raise the bow into position, noticing that the arrow in the target was fading away into a smoke-like mist.

“No,” Reynard said. “On my cadence.”

Shit! Callie hated cadence drills. But, she actually didn’t need to use an arrow with this bow, so that would make for a much faster shooting rate and, more importantly, less chance to fumble or drop an arrow.

“What are your cadence words,” Callie said.

“Nock, Aim, Draw, Loose, Down. We can forgo the Nock, apparently.”

“Fine.”

There was a long pause.

“Aim” - Callie quickly brought the bow into position.

“Draw” - Callie pulled the string.

“Loose” - Again the arrow leapt from the bow, hitting the target in the lower-right red.

He did not call ‘down’, so Callie, having played this game, kept the bow in position.

“Draw, Lose” - A quick shot this time. Again the arrow hit the target. Seven o’clock low - dammit.

“Down” - she dropped the bow to a ready stance.

Callie could see what he was going to do. This was going to become a game of Simon Says. He wanted to trip her up. To fluster her. Well, she wasn’t going to let him. This asshole wasn’t going to tell her what a girl from Chicago couldn’t do!

“Aim Draw” - Callie snapped the bow up and pulled the string. It hung on the end of her fingers, begging to be released. Her right arm, all the weight now pulling on it, started to whine with inaction and fatigue. A bead of sweat trickled down her temple.

“Loose Draw - The arrow slipped free. Three o’clock close. Back to the drawn position.

“Aim” - She slowly brought the string back to a neutral state, the magical arrow fading into a mist. Well, at least it was good to know what happened to the arrow in that case.

“Draw Loose Draw Loose Draw Loose” - Three cycles, no aiming. Nine o’clock close. Twelve o’clock center. Five o’clock low - dammit.

“Down” - Callie did so and eyed Reynard. He was simply staring downrange, rubbing his foxlike chin.

“Aim” - Callie did again, vowing not to lose her rhythm.

“As fast as you can, Loose!” Oh you clever fuck! She did nothing. He had not said to draw. She watched his face, and for a brief moment, his eyes glanced at hers and they locked.

“As fast as you can, Draw and Loose.” And so she did. Pull and loose. Again. And again. And again. A new loose every second or two. Callie lost count of how many times she shot an arrow. Dozens for sure. She had seen where they hit, but everything was happening too fast to track. But again and again the cloth target fluttered from a strike, each arrow sprouting from the target for a few seconds before it faded into nothing.

“Stop!” Reynard said. She did, still aiming. Her arms were getting exhausted, but this guy wasn’t going to win. She was really sweating now, the water running down her neck. Her breathing was getting heavy and her arms were starting to feel rubbery.

“On the move this time. Begin slowly walking to your right. Draw and Loose as quickly as you can.”

What a colossal prick! She must have just shot fifty times Sixty? Seventy? More? She’d lost count. Now he wanted it again?

Callie took a breath, trying to push aside the anger. Feeling she had to show this McFoxface asshole how they do things in her town. She looked at the ground, the path she would walk, to be sure there was nothing in the way to trip over. She began to move. She began to shoot. She became Machine Gun Callie. Draw. Loose. Draw. Loose. Draw. Loose. Every second, in a rhythm. She mentally screamed at the target, willing it to be struck. Her hair fell in her eyes, but she shook her head to get it out of the way. Dammit, that arrow missed the target completely, hitting the cloth outside the rings. But she didn’t stop. Again and again and again she pummeled the target. Twenty? Forty? Who could know.

“Hail, Trainer Reynard!” a voice said. but she barely heard it. Callie’s only focus was to launch her magic arrows the Chicago Way; totally and utterly without remorse. Draw. Loose. Draw. Loose. Draw. Loose.

“Stop! Down!” came the voice. That mocking, Gnome-hating, doubting voice. She stopped. She returned the bow to its ready position. She was panting. Her arms burned and felt like limp spaghetti. The spaghetti she should be eating with her mother. Not now! Break down later!

Sweat was pouring down her forehead and cheeks in streams. She could feel it sliding down her back. With all her body motion, her robe had come loose and fallen open as she shot over and over, but she didn’t care. Let them look. Let them see her tiny Gnome tits and fire-pink pubes. She had beat this racist jerk. Her father had taught her to never let someone tell her what she couldn’t do, and she had proved him right. And that was all that mattered. In this moment, she had made her father proud.

“That was impressive,” a familiar voice said quietly to Reynard, but loud enough for Callie’s hearing to pick up, even over the pounding in her ears. Callie turned to see Master Trainer Thorn standing next to the Foxkin. Her chest heaving in exhaustion. Her robe fluttering open in a blessedly cool breeze. She didn’t care.

“Surprising, that’s for sure,” Reynard agreed.

“Surprising? Reynard, how many times did she shoot?” Thorn asked in disbelief. “I know you kept track.”

“One-Hundred twenty-eight.”

“You’re kidding me? At that pace? That’s brutal. How many times did she hit the target?”

“One-Hundred twenty-seven.”

“And how many were in the red?”

“One-Hundred four.”

Thorn put a hand on Reynard’s shoulder. “One hell of a surprise, isn’t she. Honestly, I just thought she had really good form, but that was … something.”

Reynard looked at Callie, still standing there panting. Still glaring at him. “Recruits, return to the tent, all of you. I will join you shortly.”

“Reynard, let’s talk for a moment,” Thorn said in a low voice.

Callie slowly turned towards her four fellow Recruits in a daze. They stood in a cluster, mouths agape, at a total loss for words. Behind the four stood at least two dozen more recruits, including Bear Guy, all wearing their cult-like white robes, most huge and burly and from Warrior Row. They had all watched. They all saw her now, half-naked, angry, and victorious. They said nothing, too.

Callie took a step, and then another. One step in front of another. She just needed to make it to the tent. There would be somewhere to sit, she was sure. She was exhausted.

Quickly Jesca was at her side. “You’re showing everybody the good stuff,” she said quietly as she pulled Callie’s robe closed and tied it again. “You did great, by the way.”

The Cheetahkin waved someone over, and Kiasess came running up. “Carry her,” she said. “She just needs to rest a bit.”

“Of course,” the Tigerkin said in return as he effortlessly scooped Callie up. Jesca pried the bow from Callie’s stiff fingers.

The Ranger Five parted the lingering observers and made their way back to the Ranger tent. Kiasess ducked through the open tent flap and set Callie down on one of the pillows, Shul'an appeared next, handing her a waterskin. Callie drank a sip, and then another, and then a heavy gulp. She poured more over her head and rubbed her hands roughly against her wet face and hair, before flopping backwards with a groan. She lay there for a good two minutes, nobody saying anything.

“I think I speak for us all,” Shul'an finally said, “you were amazing.”

Callie took a deep breath and held it, finally getting her breathing fully under control, but not sitting up. “Thanks? I just wanted to show that guy he was wrong. I had to.”

“No doubt that you did that,” Thucax said. “Whether he will admit it…”

“I know his kind,” Callie said, waving her hand in dismissal. “He’ll find some minor thing to critique me on and then go on like nothing has happened. But I know he was wrong. He knows he was wrong. And most importantly, he knows I know he knows. People like him don’t apologize.”