Devon rubbed his chin as he looked me over, “Well that won’t do at all, will it, lads? Can’t be letting it get said that Devon the Dirk is a dishonorable sort to be taking coins from unwitting lads like you, eh? Guess the ol’ Dirk can teach you a thing or two on how to throw a blade. In return you could, you know, I expect a few coins for my time, being a ‘Master’ an’ all” he said, looking at his crew behind him. “An’ perhaps a drink for all the lads so they don’t start getting too restless.”
Looking at Athinad behind the bar, I gave him a nod as I counted a few bronze coins out from my small purse.
A few moments later, Athinad came round and served drinks of brown ale from utilitarian horn mugs, plonking them down gruffly before adding, “Just to remind you, boys, no trouble you, hear?”
“We hear you all right,” Devon replied, his eyes rolling at the repeated nagging, “Now this here is the game we’ll be playing once you can hit the fat bum of a passing Laur. Hit the target over there, you take a swig. Miss the target and old biddy Taper over there goes up in a huff about us damaging the walls, and ye ‘ave to drink two swigs. Like so,” Devon said, taking a quaff from his mug and burping loudly to the amusement of his companions, “Now you’ll be wanting to hold yer blade like this,” he indicated, holding up his blade for inspection before passing me a small simple throwing knife.
It was a very unassuming weapon with a thin steel blade that flared a little in the middle, before tapering off to a sharp point. The handle was made from wood wrapped with rawhide, and it had a small bronze guard to stop the fingers from slipping accidentally onto the blade.
Attempting to follow my new instructor's example, I placed the end of the handle into the center of the palm of my left hand, with my middle finger closing the grip and my thumb on the side. My index finger rested along the spine of the weapon at the balance point of the knife.
He grunted before taking another gulp from his mug. “Not bad, not bad at all. You pick things up quick. Now the trick is...” He stood now, taking a loose stance and raising the blade behind his head. “…is all in the timing of the release!” he said as he threw his knife.
Without spinning, the blade flew unerringly towards the small wooden target on the wall, sinking a few centimeters into the wood. With a wide sweep of his hands, he took a quick swig from his mug and gestured for me to have a try, as if he was a director introducing a new character to the stage. I nodded to him, taking a stance that approximately resembled his.
My Dexterity was reasonably high now, considering that I had started with a mere eight points, so I felt that I would have a good chance at picking this up. Lifting the knife behind my head, I tried to copy my teacher’s throw, but released perhaps scant moments too early, and missed the target by a small margin.
Devon clapped me on the back in commiseration, encouraging me to try a few times more, and explained in a slightly slurred voice that being drunk was the key to good knife-throwing. However, totally engrossed in my practice, I did not care to drink with the others or take part in any gambling.
I did, however, continue to order a few more rounds of drinks in exchange for further friendly instruction. Devon would give me the occasional tip, shifting my stance on occasion, and giving me pointers on how to ‘feel’ for the timing of the blade. In time, I was hitting the target more often than not, and I was granted the notification that I had long been waiting for.
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You have gained 1 Dexterity.
You have learned Daggers (lvl.2)
You have learned Throwing Weapons (lvl.1)
You have learned Throwing Weapons (lvl.2)
It seemed that with proper instruction, I could gain skill levels much faster than just by messing about in the dark by myself. Daggers would be a useful proficiency to have in case I ever lost my main weapons, or if I had to engage in some up-close wetwork in the future. As a bonus, I had gained a point of Dexterity for my trouble and a tiny amount of experience.
“Thank you, Master Devon,” I replied with a small bow, which drew laughs from Devon’s crew, but I could see that Devon’s face was a little flushed with more than just alcohol. With the simple word of ‘Master’ I had appealed to his pride and had won him over. “Where can one get such weapons as these? They have a fine balance and fly true.”
His posture a little straighter, Devon smiled a little drunkenly and replied proudly, “Go down along this road outside to yer left a little way, you’ll see the sign of the Soot-Stained Pig Iron Forge. Basically, look for a black pig if you don’t know your letters. Tell ol’ Cillis Aideh I sent ya. She’ll give you a discount if you buy ten,” he slurred the last, clearly inebriated, and I knew he would not be able to give much further useful instruction.
Luckily, he had forgotten about our competition, for which I was grateful. For, as drunk as he was, he still had much better aim than me, which would almost certainly lead to my loss.
I thanked Devon again, and the seedy-looking men behind him raised a drunken toast in my name. Though it had cost me a few coins, I was a little bit happy with my newfound popularity. I was even happier when I saw a new notification.
You have gained 1 Charisma.
Not bad, I thought to myself, as I turned to the bar and cleared my tab with Taper before I went back up the creaking stairs to my room. Entering, I saw Kidu and Elwin attending to the maintenance of our gear. The Hunter, considerately, had even fashioned a strap for my helm. I didn’t have the heart to tell him that I was thinking of trading it in for something else at the earliest opportunity.
“That’s it. My turn now,” Elwin said, rising from the floor like a hound that had just been let loose and dashed for the door.
“Try and find a place to sell the...” I tried to remind him as he went past me.
“Yes, yes, mother. And I’ll try not to sink too deep into my cups, nor will I be losing my chastity this night!” he shouted back at me as he bolted down the stairs, probably to engage in a round of drinking.
Upon hearing this, Kidu just grunted as he continued to diligently polish his spear, grinding out traces of rust with a coarse stone. Sitting down by the shutter, I decided to practice my magic.