Leaving my room, I head to the archery range. There was a nicer set of clothing laid out for me, waiting on my bed. I took the hint, most likely from my newly self-elected personal assistant Jenn, and put them on.

As I approach the archery range, I can see that things have already gotten started and have been going on for a while. There are three sets of bleachers in a slight semi-circle around and behind where the archers stand to shoot. A small podium sits behind the shooters but facing the bleachers. Children, some I recognize from the archery class, are lined up both ways down the archery range shooting at the targets. Intermittently, there are helpers or parents along the range to keep the children safe and assist as needed.

The bleachers are mostly filled to capacity with what looks like families, parents, and grandparents for graduation. You can tell that they are here to watch the children shooting targets with the bows.

I had not recognized her until just now, but I see Jenn helping with a group of children in a full-on cosplay costume. Darker green traveling cloak with the hood up over her head, closed in the front, her hands coming through the front to help the child with the bow. She is definitely playing the Wood Elf character in this scene.

I see her notice that I am here, as I catch her glancing my way. She immediately starts calling a halt to the archery practice, clapping her hands lightly and having the children put the bows back in their stands. Once it is safe, she sends them out to collect the arrows. They are scattered about both in the targets and on the ground. The second group of older students, head out into the range and starts moving the main targets much farther back while also setting up smaller targets randomly throughout the range. Once they are done transforming the range, Jenn gathers the children to sit in a semi-circle between the podium and the bleachers. Also putting some quivers of arrows behind her, near the range.

Once the crowd settles, Jenn steps to the podium and begins. “How is everyone doing on this beautiful day?” She asks, her voice being amplified from the base of the podium somehow. I do not see a speaker or a microphone anywhere. The crowd responds with light applause. “Today we are adding a bit of cultural awareness and diversities to these festivities. As in the past, we have had guest speakers come and show us how the bow is used in their work.” Speaking to the children as much as to the crowd, she continues. “We have had members of the Guard, Rangers, and even a few of our own, demonstrate the different types of bows and their skill with them.” Looking at the children. “Today, our guest is someone you probably know, and she is going to show you about elves. Can you guess who it is?” A few of the children guess Miss Lilly, at the same time. “No, but you’re close” Jenn replies jokingly back at them, as a few point at her and call out her name. Jenn raises her arms in victory. “Yes, it is me, I am your guest speaker today!”

As Jenn stands tall on the podium before them, she asks the children. “Who can tell me what items I am wearing that are Elven?” Your cloak, one cries out. “Yes,” Jenn replies. “This is a traditional Elven traveling cloak. It is not only for protection from the rain and the cold, it can help you hide when you do not want to be seen.” Jenn focuses and the cloak starts to shimmer and blend with the sky behind her. “As you can see, it does not make you invisible, and it does not do very much out in the open. But in the varying colors and shadows of a forest, you can remain unseen.”

Since I noticed Jenn when I first arrived, she has had her cloak around herself the entire time. Now that the children have identified the Elven cloak, she is removing it in a flamboyant manner, revealing herself and eyeing my reaction. “Wow” I mouthed the word to myself because a reaction is what she got. Not only from myself but also a slight gasp is heard throughout the crowded bleachers. Jenn’s cosplay Wood Elf outfit has just leveled up to Manhunter. Don’t get me wrong with this. She’s not dressed like a slut or a whore. She is fully clothed in a traditional Elven hunters’ garb. But her Elven beauty is two steps beyond anything I have ever seen and she is standing proud on the podium for all to see. Shades of entwining light and dark, tans to browns. Slightly pointed boots with small heels, aerodynamically shaped as if Hermes had made them himself. Leather-like yoga pants that shimmer, like her cloak. A lighter color blouse with lace-like autumn leaves, short-sleeved with a slight V-neck shape. Archer bracer on each forearm. Clasps on her biceps, each holding small daggers or throwing knives. Leather straps crisscrossing her torso holding small packs and a large quiver to her back, the feathers of arrows just breaking over her shoulder. She stands with her hands on her thighs, like a western six-shooter ready to draw. In the place of twin revolvers, one hand holds the hilt of a jeweled black combat hunting dagger, the other, the hilt of a long silver rapier. Rings on her fingers, a princess tiara on her head. A deadly vision of beauty to behold.

Turning to the children she asks. “What else do you see?”

The children shout out different answers, each trying to be first. “Shoes” is heard a little louder than the rest, the children still seeing her as just ‘Jenn’.

“That’s right” Jenn calls, pointing to one of the children with the answer. “Boots of Speed have been one of the hallmarks of the Elven hunter. Both making the hunter quick and sure-footed.”

“The rings.” Another shouts out.

Jenn holds one hand up, fingers outstretched, the back of her hand facing the crowd. “Rings of Power are as a part of Elven culture as time itself. The uses and abilities are only limited by the strength and imagination of the Enchanter.”

“The sword.” says another, and Jenn shakes her head no.

“The dagger” he changes his answer.

“The Tooth of the Hunt” Jenn pulls the dagger from its sheath and holds it above her head for all to see. “Both for attack and defense. This one is special, a family heirloom, the gems may be switched out to match the weakness of the prey.”

“The crown” one points to Jenn’s Head.

“Yes.” Jenn nods and acknowledges another correct answer.

“And what does not belong, what is not Elven?” Jenn asks. Looking at the children first, then into the crowd.

A few moments pass, Jenn glances at me. Pulling her Rapier, she holds it out to the crowd and the sky. “This is a gift from my paternal grandfather, Inquisitor Lightbringer, on the day of my awakening. Its name is Truth and I cherish it dearly.” Jenn then returns it to its sheath.

“But what about the bow?” one of the boys ask.

“What bow? I don’t see a bow.” She teases the boy.

“Elves always have bows.” He says as the other children start to agree and ask about the bow.

“You have arrows” He states. “Where’s the bow?” the other children agreeing and pointing out the arrows on her back.

“I guess you caught me. Good job” she says to the boy.

Stepping off the back of the podium, she touches her foot to a button or something at the base. The podium starts to move away, slide away, there are no wheels and it’s not hovering. Until it’s about ten feet clear, off to the side, out of the way.

While this is happening, Jenn has picked up something in a soft-sided case. You can see it is a bow as she holds it and brings it out. Coming to stand before the children, where the podium once was, she holds an unstrung bow. Opening a small pack attached to one of the straps by her stomach, she pulls out a string, blesses it, then hooks it on the bottom end of the bow. Standing the bow on that same end before her, she steps through it. The end of the bow tip is hooked over her right foot. The bow extends back between her legs, behind her back, off to her left side. She wraps her arm around the bow as if she is putting it in a headlock. Now holding the end of the loose string, draping it over her right hand. Jenn grasps her right hand and left hand together, closing her eyes and taking calming breaths.

The top end of the bow is hooked around the inside of her left bicep, just below the clasp with the knives. It wraps around her back, between her legs with the bottom end hooking over her right foot. As I watch her, I start to see her muscles strain. Slowly at first, but increasing in power. With the Elven garb as form-fitting as it is, I see the muscles across her chest and in her arms start to ripple first. I become aware of the hush that has spread across the crowd, as they are watching as intently as I am. “Bend” I hear her softly say. The muscles in her legs, especially her thighs become more defined as the leggings conform to her shape, like skin. “Bend.” she says, as the straps across her chest and stomach dig into her flesh. “Bend.” she commands, as she slowly breaths out. With each inward breath, she holds the bow in place, as she gathers her strength to bend the bow that little bit more. With each exhale she commands the bow to bend, as much to her will, as to her strength. “Bend” and again she forces the bow, literally to bend to her will. “You will obey me, for it is my right!” The bow cracking with the strain, sounding as if a tree is being pulled apart, the wood splintering as it gives way. “Bend” she has it to the point where the bow could possibly be strung if she held it and someone else helped. “Bend” again the bow gives ground, fighting to the very end.

Jenn is now straining to hold the bow steady, as she slowly loops the free end of the string in place. As Jenn is satisfied that the string is secure, slowly she releases her grip, watching to verify that the placement stays correct. The crowd taking a breath with her.

It takes a moment for Jenn to recover her composure, then once again she stands proud. “This is a gift from my maternal grandfather, Reyansh Aarush, on the day of my awakening. Its name is Stag and Today, I am its master.”

Holding the bow up to the crowd, I can see some of its basic characteristics. It looks to be about five-foot-long, maybe less, judging by Jenn’s height. Recurved at each end. The Riser (handgrip) is different, if not for the rest of the bow, it would look like Brass Knuckles. Something you would punch with, or maybe it’s just meant to be a handguard. The limbs are round, thicker at the Riser, then mostly a constant diameter, tapering at the ends.

Jenn, raising her voice to the crowd. “I am Jenn Lightbringer.” Looking at me. “I claim my ancestral rights as Elven born, with all that it entails. As proof of my heritage, as only the Blessings of the Elven kind may receive. I now present to you ‘The Way of the Bow’.

Jen turns and walks the few paces to the archery range, scooping up four full quivers of arrows that she had put there, just before taking the podium. She stands them up next to each other and surveys the targets throughout the archery range.

Without turning back to the crowd, Jenn lowers herself into that crouch, her knees about half-bent. Drawing an arrow from one of the quivers on the ground, she notches it in her bow and I hear the crowd come to life with excitement. Jenn is using the red targeting dot to aim at her target and the people behind her love it. As she draws back, the circle of power appears before the arrow and grows to about the size of a small dinner plate. I hear the roar of the crowd as they all begin to jump to their feet. “Twang” Jenn lets it fly as it only entices the crowd to get louder.

“Twang, Twang, Twang, Twang, Twang, Twang, Twang,” Jenn is firing arrows, at the rate of three or four a second, one at every large target in view. The targeting dot and circle of power following her every move. “Twang, Twang, Twang, Twang, Twang, Twang, Twang,” It’s now like we are at a game, football, basketball, or baseball, where the crowd is in a frenzy as the players are fighting for that last winning score. “Twang, Twang, Twang, Twang, Twang, Twang, Twang,” Jenn runs out of the arrows from the quivers standing on the ground.

Jenn jumps up and starts running across the front of the archery range, faster than you think a person could ever travel on foot. Turning her shoulders towards the target’s downrange while continuing to run across the front of the range, she starts drawing arrows from the quiver on her back as she strafes the field. Following her targeting, I quickly realize Jenn is no longer targeting the large targets, but all of the small ones. “Twang, Twang, Twang, Twang, Twang, Twang, Twang, Twang,” As she reaches the end of the range, she switches directions and heads back the opposite way. “Twang, Twang, Twang, Twang, Twang, Twang, Twang,”

The crowd is loving it. Jenn runs out of arrows before she makes it back to where she started, but she continues to run. Stopping in about the same place as she started, she stops and stands tall facing the target’s downrange. The crowd is starting to die down. Jenn draws her bow once again. There is no arrow notched, but she is holding it drawn, sighting one of the targets farthest away. As she is focused, holding the bow drawn, a glow starts to appear between her fingers and the string. Slowly at first, a line starts to appear and grows from her fingers at the bowstring, through the riser above her other hand. She lets it fly “TWANG” and it simply passes through the target as if it was paper, only leaving a small hole in its wake.

Again, she draws, and this time the arrow appears quicker. “TWANG” she lets it fly. Before she can draw a third time, the crowd has rushed her. Quickly surrounding her, a throng of people have boxed her in. People jumping up and down trying to see her. Others standing on the bleachers trying to get a look. I’m not even sure if she is still there anymore. The crowd is pressing in and I’m concerned that she might be getting trampled.

I climb up on the bleachers to get a better look. There doesn’t seem to be a center or direction for the mob. No one seems like they have her underfoot. The people on the outside are trying to get in, and the people on the inside are starting to try and force their way out. It’s become a mosh pit now with all the people trapping themselves. It’s a wonder that the children didn’t run into this, someone would have been severely hurt.

I look over the crowd, trying to see where Jenn might be. No use yelling out for her, the crowd is still being too loud. I remember her cloak and try to look for her shimmer or outline. Somewhere that she might be trying to hide, or maybe out in the open where no one would look.

I see the kid from yesterday coming around one of the far archery targets. The one playing hide and seek with Daylor behind the trees. He has his hand out like he’s waving, no, reaching for something. He still has the green camouflage clothes on. As he gets closer, I can see that this is not one of the children. His features are too sharp, too pointy. We lock eyes as he gets closer. This thing doesn’t look right. What is it trying…to…get… Zzzzzzz…