May 10, 5319 A.A.

Mark sighed as he and the four loggers heaved yet another massive trunk off the lumber carriage, rolling it off and onto the ground next to the dug foundation of the new wall. It slammed into the ground with a terrible, crashing thud. He stared at what they were doing, and was awestruck by the titanic scale of the operation. Ancient pines which had stood for countless millennia were felled by the thousand to build a wall nearly four miles long. What they were building was technically just another palisade, but that word betrayed the impossible reality of the wall. Each "stake" of the palisade wall was a fourteen foot long section of a five foot diameter tree. Every tree the men felled felt like an earthquake, and without the two master harvesters, there is no way they could have rolled a single cut log onto the cart.

Torig drove the draft horses on to the work site, his adept carting skill allowing the majestic beasts to haul beyond their strength. Mark was assigned to help the foresters however he could, adding his meager strength to theirs. He had taken over sawing the felled giants into sections, but still felt useless. As they dropped their load at the wall, Liam gave them a slight nod before climbing from the ditch. He had dug out the foundations four feet down all by himself. Mark watched as he easily rolled the massive log into place, and then slid one end over the edge of the ditch. Every muscle in his heraclean body tensed and bulged as he heaved one end of the log up into the air, the other taken by gravity down into the ditch.

In less than ten seconds, the craftsman had set a six ton tree on its end, adding another five feet to the wall. "Ivar." He called out to the head forester. "Do you still have need of Mark? I'm sure your boys levels are rising rapidly with all this work."

"It would slow us down, but not by much. Most of the heavy work is up to Torig and I. Take him if you can make use of him."

"Good man! I've got the foundations dug for the next quarter mile, so I've got time to get him started on a special project. Now get down here boy. Don't act like you weren't listening.

"Coming!" Mark shouted as he jumped down from the cart, delighted to be off of logging duty. "What do I do?"

"Show me your skills. Let's see where you're at."

"Display all: Skill menu." The window appeared, this time visible to everyone.

Skill MenuClassSkillsLevelStatBonusCraftsman120H/E/S/I/Cr12Bowyer0Endurance0Carpenter145Strength1.45

"Not bad. You've been growing quickly despite your complete lack of confidence."

"Thanks, I think... What do you want me to do now?"

"Sit there and watch, I need to set the post and pack in the dirt."

"Can I help?" Mark asked as he reached out to help push the post.

"No!" Liam shouted, causing Mark to stumble and nearly fall into the foundation trench.

"What the hell?"

"Don't touch the wall! This isn't a house, or a chair. The level and skill of the craftsman strengthens the finished product. This finished product this time is a wall. A wall that stands between us and this god forsaken world. There can be no weak points.

"I can't even help?"

"If you help in a small way, you leave a small impact on the integrity of the wall. Not worth it. So enjoy the break while you can boy."

Mark watched as Liam brought a mighty sledgehammer with a broad, flat head to bear and slammed the bottom of the log hard, smashing it tight against the next post in the wall. He did the same all the way up the log from top to bottom, using sturdy wooden scaffolding to reach the top of the wall. Once he was finally satisfied, he pulled out massive, two foot long nails, and drove them at an angle through the new log into the other at the joint. Next came the dirt as he filled the sides of the foundation trench, packing it down as best he could. There was a massive pile of leftover dirt from the excavation now filled with wood, and it was all piled against the inside edge of the wall to brace it.

"That it?" Mark asked as Liam put down his hammer and patted the wall, seemingly contented with the results of his work.

"Yeah, that's it. Now follow me, you can help me carry the equipment."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

As they arrived back at Liam's house, for the first time Mark was invited in. It was a single room cabin with one bed in the corner and four bedrolls laid out on the floor. One side of the house held a simple kitchen and cabinets and the other was a total mess of tools and compact workbenches. Liam walked straight over to a cluttered workbench with a very large book and a bow on top of the mess. "It's time you learned how to craft a bow. Once we have a proper wall up, we can set some basic ramparts atop it. We will need good bows so every man and woman can man the walls when the time comes." He pick up the bow, and held it out to Mark. "Take a look, it's the best I can do. I'm hoping you will be able to do better."

"I doubt it..." Mark said as he took the bow. From what little he knew, it looked like a bow. "Looks fine to me."

"Inspect it, don't use your eyes. I know I made it right."

"Inspect?" Mark asked, and a window immediately filled his vision.

Simple bowDurability: 60

Draw Weight: 95 lbs

Weight: 5 lbs

Material: Ironwood PineMade from Ironwod by an unskilled craftsman

"Wow!" Mark exclaimed at the window.

"Have you really not been inspecting any of your work?"

"I had no idea I could."

"You idiot. I forget how little you know about this world."

"I'm sorry. But what is this about unskilled craftsman? Didn't you make this? It looks flawless!"

"I don't have the Bowyer skill. So while my craftsman skill allows me to make a working bow, even from ironwood, it will never be as good as someone who takes the Bowyer skill and levels it. So our only option is for you to learn what you are doing, and quickly." Liam lectured as he picked up the book and handed it to Mark, taking the bow back and resting it on the work bench. "Read this and learn it well. All our lives will depend on it."

"The Art of the Bow. Really? I'm supposed to learn how to make a bow from a book?"

"Is that a problem?"

"No, I just don't know I'll be able to make sense of it."

"You know your way around a block of wood and all my tools. It's time you quit acting stupid boy."

"It's just a book."

"It has diagrams and instructions. Everything you need. When you finish reading, I'll show you how to make one. After that, you are on your own. Now help me with these tools."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Mark watched as Liam raised, settled, secured, and buried yet another post in the rapidly growing wall. He was halfway through a chapter on the best types of wood to use for a bowstave. Pine was not on the list. Mark groaned, overwhelmed by the technical jargon and exacting detail of the text. "Hell with this. If I read one more line about how amazing silverbough yew is I'm going to go stand underneath one of those giant trees they are felling."

"Then what do you plan to do?" Liam demanded of his young apprentice?

"I'm going to make a damn bow. We only have one type of wood around here, and most of the stuff written here is way beyond me. If I screw up, I'll figure it out."

"Good man!" Liam exclaimed.

"What? You wanted me to get mad and give up?"

"The opposite. I wanted to see some damned initiative out of you. That's the first time you've decided to do something on your own since you arrived here. Took you nearly two hours though."

"So this book is useless? You just want me to start making it and sort it out later?"

"Far from it. That book has everything a master bowyer needs to now. Thing is, you are far from a master bowyer and you learn best through practice and failure. Read that book every night, every chance you get."

"Alright, I guess I'll get to it."

"None of that boy. This was your decision. Own it."

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"Alright boss." Mark chipped as he walked over to the makeshift workbench Liam had prepared for him.

"Boss huh? I like it."

"So I'm guessing these trees are where you want me to start?" Mark asked as he gazed at a large pile of small pine trees piled up near the workbench.

"Trees? Gods no, those are just some branches from the trees they are felling for the wall. Perfect scraps for you to play with."

"Branches... Damn." Mark took a moment to appreciate that the trees he had been felling were so huge that its branches were the size of small trees.

Mark selected the smallest one, an eight foot branch, maybe eight inches wide at the base. He grabbed a machete and quickly went about cutting off all the stray branches. Then he cut off the top half of the tree, preferring to work with a four foot section for his first try. Next he clamped it to a sawing frame, making a clean cut along one side. He rotated it, braced it again to get a square cut for another cut. After the next two cuts he had a four foot long four by four, and that was sawed in half, leaving two identical boards.

Now came the knife work. He pulled up a chair and sat overlooking Liam's work as he began to whittle down the bow. Massive logs continued to arrive, and the wall continued its rapid growth. As two hours passed, he had whittled it down into a flat bow shape. Now was time for it to be steamed and pressed. The steamer was a simple contraption, a metal pot filled with water held over a fire with a sealed box atop it. The whittled bow was laid in the box, but it would take over an hour for the steam to make it properly flexible. He sat down with his second plank, and started whittling again.

"Liam. Are we ever going to tell me about what happened in the battle?"

"You did well. You did your job."

"I mean about you. How did you do that. Where did you come from? What did you do?"

"No."

"No what?"

"We aren't going to talk about it."

After another hour, he removed the first bow, and replaced it with the second. He grabbed a premade bow frame, and using clamps he slowly pressed it down onto the curve. The heat and steam loosened the lignin, a plant protein which is responsible for the rigidity and integrity of wood. Once the wood was fully pressed into the frame, perfectly matching the curve of the bow frame, he began trimming yet another branch down to a workable size. In yet another hour, he pulled out the second bow, and clamped it to another frame, replacing it with yet another bow shaped strip of wood in the steamer. As the sun began to set, he had been forced to build a second makeshift workbench, and two extra frames. He had four bows clamped down, slowly drying out.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

May 12, 5319 A.A.

Crude BowDurability: 5

Draw Weight: 20 lbs

Weight: 2 lbs

Material: Eastern highland pineMade roughly from an ancient pine tree by a novice craftsman

"I spent hours on these, took a whole day to dry, and it comes out like this?"

"What did you expect? You are a novice craftsman, novice carpenter, novice bowyer, and it was your first bow. It was rough, shape was wrong, wood was cheap, and the string was badly wound from even cheaper material."

"Damn, that was a bit harsh wasn't it?"

"No. You did well. Keep at it."

"What now?"

"You test them. You fire one until it breaks. Then fire the others, try to feel the differences in each. You can see the numerical difference in the inspection window, but to find out why one is better than the other, you have to fire it yourself. Feel where the bow gives, feel what breaks it. It's the only way to learn."

"I've never fired a bow before in my life. Can you teach me?"

"I'll ask Fredrick. I know how to fire one, but he has far more experience using one in battle. But first, I think you need to make some arrows. You remember making those spear shafts?"

"Yeah?"

"Same thing, just do it smaller."

"So I'll need to use the lathe then?"

"If you want them well made, yeah. You do."

Mark had slowly moved a full quarter of Liam's tools out to the wall work site, even if he had to move everything to catch up to Liam every morning. Splitting wood and trimming it down to half inch squared stick didn't take long, it was something he had practiced a thousand times by this point. The only time consuming part would be the lathe, it was pedal powered but very effective. Each stick was stripped down to an almost perfect 3/8ths inch thick dowel. Mark suddenly realized he had no idea what to next. "What do I do for arrowheads? Feathers?."

Liam sighed as he set down his giant hammer. "Don't worry about arrowheads for now, you just need practice arrows. Sharpen them to a point, then round it off so it doesn't break. You can learn fire hardening another day."

"And the feathers?"

"The bag, to the left of your lathe table. I had Sigmund drop them off. He's been doing the best he can at fletching this last year."

"How do they go on?"

"You read the book. Get glue, feathers, string soaked in glue. Set feathers, add glue, loosely bind it, set them exactly where you want them, wrap the soaked string around both ends of the feathers and use it again to reinforce the nock on the back. Skip the string for the first two dozen, you need some to test with for now. Any more questions, read that book."

Mark did as instructed, sharpened the arrows and glued on the feathers as best he could. While the glue was drying, Liam had him set up a straw target. Liam used red dye to paint a small circle in the middle of the target. After that, Liam wandered back to town while the glue was drying and he waited for the next log for the wall. Just as the glue was drying, Mark spotted Liam on his way back, with Fredrick in tow.

"I hear you have no idea how to use a bow." Fredrick chided in a gruff greeting.

"Unfortunately not. Earth hasn't used bows for warfare in hundreds of years."

"Rather silly, nothing better for fighting at range. Can I see your bows?"

"Sure." Mark turned and gestured to his workbench.

The first thing Fredrick did, was pick up a bow, draw it gently only for it to shatter under his strength. "Hell, I should have guessed. Inspect." He spoke the command over a second bow as Mark cried out in shock at his first bow being broken like a toothpick. "Not bad for your first try. I trust you understand you are going to have to work hard to improve these, or else we won't be able to use them."

"I'll do my best. It would be hard to do worse."

"That's the spirit, now lets see about teaching you to shoot. Bear in mind even you can't put your full strength into this bow. It will only take twenty pounds of force before it starts to give out. You work with your right hand right?"

"Yes, I do."

"How about your eyes?"

"My eye?"

"Just point at my right eye with one finger."

"Alright..." Mark spoke as he pointed his index finger at Fredrick's right eye.

"You're a righty through and through."

"How the hell..."

"When you point at a distant object, your finger will be out of focus. You will naturally point from the perspective of your dominant eye."

"Ok... what next?"

"Spread your legs, shoulders width apart. Hold the bow in your left hand, outstretched. No, don't lock the elbow. Now nock the arrow... little higher on the string. Rest it on your index finger. Aim at your target. Now draw back. Normally you would draw all the way back to your ear, but this time just draw it till you feel the wood straining. Steady the shot. Hold your breath. Perfect, now release!"

Mark loosed the arrow, which sped towards their straw target. It flew straight and true, his arrow was well made, but his aim wasn't as good. The arrow flew clear over the target, sailing off into the field beyond. "Damn" Mark groaned.

"What, you expected to hit on your first try, with your first bow?" Liam chuckled.

"What did I do wrong...?" Mark sighed.

"Nothing. Nothing at all." Fredrick answered. "You just need practice. Lots and lots of practice."

"It will have to wait." Liam cut in, his voice suddenly cold.

"Why?" Mark asked as he turned, seeing Liam staring off at the northern road.

"We have guests."