Post by Aleta Crow on Apr 29, 2008 11:04:12 GMT 8
TIME: 6:00 AM
Aleta Crow never slept late. It was a habit she grew into when she decided to become a knight, and her grandmother recalled how early they woke up. But of course, Aleta would wake up earlier. When it came to something she loved, she would push herself forward, and do better. Such was the case here.
The pages oft woke around 7 in the morning. So, of course, Aleta would wake up around 6 in the morning. An hour made all the difference, really. One hour it took for the sun to come from dark to light. One hour it took for the sun to set into the darkness. One hour it took for Aleta to practice her skills.
Sure, she was here, and those skills she acquired as a child were not really needed here, but Aleta would become a knight if it meant her life. Even if she had to be an eighteen year old page. Sir Nealan of Queenscove was around that age when he became a page. Well, perhaps a bit younger. But around the age, nontheless. Besides, some Knights were coming for the tournament, and they could train her as a page and let her become a Knight, so long as she underwent proper page and squire training, and underwent the Ordeal at Midwinter.
So Aleta woke up as her body started to function as it did when her body found it was six. She quickly dressed, donning the clothing of the pages of the palace. Sure, she wasn't at the palace, nor was she a page. But she nearly could be. Besides, it made her feel like she truly was a page. The attire consisted of a bright gold tunic over a full crimson shirt that was made of a soft material. The breeches were the same bright red and made of a similar, floaty material as the shirt. Upon her feet were simple shoes made of leather. Okay, the colors clashed a bit, but they were extremely nice, and were sent upon special order, thanks to her connection with the King of the time, King Jonathan. But now, Raold was on the throne, someone she didn't know too well.
Aleta grabbed her daggers and slid the sheaths into their proper places. Of course, none of her rommates knew of the weapons hidden within her trunk, which was, of course, spelled to hold more than it normally could. Besides, Dumbledore had approved of them, upon special conditions, that she could not hurt anybody, not on purpose. And, of course, a spell was put upon her weapons to sense any bad intentions, and the edge would dull and do no harm. Not that Aleta intended to do any harm.
She grabbed her birch bow, her quiver, and her sword within its sheath. All were works of art, really. They were weapons that her grandmother had either made herself, or acquired from the best weapons shop around. The sword was silver, with a black hilt wrapped in copper. The guard was set well for her hand, and the pommel had a small ruby inset, with a tassle hanging off the end. A beautiful sword, to be sure.
Her other weapons were not outdone. The bow shone bright with no nicks, and the arrows of the same quality, with Stormwing feathers as the fletching. Her daggers were beautiful as well, but their blades worse for wear.
Donning her gear, Aleta headed out to the area that was soon to be the training grounds. It was a large area, and had areas for different parts. There were ten targets with several yards for the archers choice of position. Another area had several dummies with shields and blades. These were charmed to move and react to the duelist. Of course, the blades were made of magic, and were dull. And yet another area had another set of dummies. These were not magicked, and were used for jousting. The quintains, as the dummies were called, were sitting upon a log, and were made to spin upon impact, should the lance be set wrong. Lances that were padded set alongside, and two lanes had no quintaines, for those that wishes to ride against one another. Of course, there was a stable to be set up along the side, with a variety of different horses to be available.
Aleta set her bow and sword by the side, and faced the targets. She quickly unsheathed a dagger and threw it towards a target. All was done in a short amount of time, and the dagger fell close to the center of the target. Aleta cursed and, in quick succesion, unsheathed and threw all her daggers at the target. The daggers were set in various parts of her body, so she was twisting quickly to grab and throw them.
All of the daggers, but one, fell short of the center. Aleta cursed once more. When she had more time, and the availability to practice, she oft hit the center, and when doing such a maneuver, several of the daggers would not hit the target because they were so close. But every dagger had hit the target somewhere, and all close to the center. But it was not good enough, not for her. She quickly retrieved her daggers, and set them back in their sheaths. But, upon her return, she noticed a shadow of a person leaning against a nearby tree. Of course, this person would now know of her heritage, most likely. Not even the students studying the various arts would be as good as her. Besides, they didn't teach knife-throwing. It was a spy's trick, really. But, of course, her family had a line of spies in the service of a monarch.
Aleta Crow never slept late. It was a habit she grew into when she decided to become a knight, and her grandmother recalled how early they woke up. But of course, Aleta would wake up earlier. When it came to something she loved, she would push herself forward, and do better. Such was the case here.
The pages oft woke around 7 in the morning. So, of course, Aleta would wake up around 6 in the morning. An hour made all the difference, really. One hour it took for the sun to come from dark to light. One hour it took for the sun to set into the darkness. One hour it took for Aleta to practice her skills.
Sure, she was here, and those skills she acquired as a child were not really needed here, but Aleta would become a knight if it meant her life. Even if she had to be an eighteen year old page. Sir Nealan of Queenscove was around that age when he became a page. Well, perhaps a bit younger. But around the age, nontheless. Besides, some Knights were coming for the tournament, and they could train her as a page and let her become a Knight, so long as she underwent proper page and squire training, and underwent the Ordeal at Midwinter.
So Aleta woke up as her body started to function as it did when her body found it was six. She quickly dressed, donning the clothing of the pages of the palace. Sure, she wasn't at the palace, nor was she a page. But she nearly could be. Besides, it made her feel like she truly was a page. The attire consisted of a bright gold tunic over a full crimson shirt that was made of a soft material. The breeches were the same bright red and made of a similar, floaty material as the shirt. Upon her feet were simple shoes made of leather. Okay, the colors clashed a bit, but they were extremely nice, and were sent upon special order, thanks to her connection with the King of the time, King Jonathan. But now, Raold was on the throne, someone she didn't know too well.
Aleta grabbed her daggers and slid the sheaths into their proper places. Of course, none of her rommates knew of the weapons hidden within her trunk, which was, of course, spelled to hold more than it normally could. Besides, Dumbledore had approved of them, upon special conditions, that she could not hurt anybody, not on purpose. And, of course, a spell was put upon her weapons to sense any bad intentions, and the edge would dull and do no harm. Not that Aleta intended to do any harm.
She grabbed her birch bow, her quiver, and her sword within its sheath. All were works of art, really. They were weapons that her grandmother had either made herself, or acquired from the best weapons shop around. The sword was silver, with a black hilt wrapped in copper. The guard was set well for her hand, and the pommel had a small ruby inset, with a tassle hanging off the end. A beautiful sword, to be sure.
Her other weapons were not outdone. The bow shone bright with no nicks, and the arrows of the same quality, with Stormwing feathers as the fletching. Her daggers were beautiful as well, but their blades worse for wear.
Donning her gear, Aleta headed out to the area that was soon to be the training grounds. It was a large area, and had areas for different parts. There were ten targets with several yards for the archers choice of position. Another area had several dummies with shields and blades. These were charmed to move and react to the duelist. Of course, the blades were made of magic, and were dull. And yet another area had another set of dummies. These were not magicked, and were used for jousting. The quintains, as the dummies were called, were sitting upon a log, and were made to spin upon impact, should the lance be set wrong. Lances that were padded set alongside, and two lanes had no quintaines, for those that wishes to ride against one another. Of course, there was a stable to be set up along the side, with a variety of different horses to be available.
Aleta set her bow and sword by the side, and faced the targets. She quickly unsheathed a dagger and threw it towards a target. All was done in a short amount of time, and the dagger fell close to the center of the target. Aleta cursed and, in quick succesion, unsheathed and threw all her daggers at the target. The daggers were set in various parts of her body, so she was twisting quickly to grab and throw them.
All of the daggers, but one, fell short of the center. Aleta cursed once more. When she had more time, and the availability to practice, she oft hit the center, and when doing such a maneuver, several of the daggers would not hit the target because they were so close. But every dagger had hit the target somewhere, and all close to the center. But it was not good enough, not for her. She quickly retrieved her daggers, and set them back in their sheaths. But, upon her return, she noticed a shadow of a person leaning against a nearby tree. Of course, this person would now know of her heritage, most likely. Not even the students studying the various arts would be as good as her. Besides, they didn't teach knife-throwing. It was a spy's trick, really. But, of course, her family had a line of spies in the service of a monarch.
