Story starter!

Robin exhaled slowly. As an archer, this final exhalation, almost a ritual, was the calm before the storm; the final moment before releasing the arrow and wreaking havoc on its target.

Like all bowman, Robin was as strong as an ox. Daily training had seen to that. Hours upon hours of drawing back the beautifully curved yew bow had thickened Robin’s muscles like hempen rope, to the point where he could now draw the massive bow with ease.

The thousands of arrows that he had loosed since the age of 6, when he had been given his first bow, made Robin a professional, and like his ancestors, a bowman of his skill didn’t miss. The yew bow was so familiar that it was like an extension of his body; when it was not in his hands he didn’t feel alive.

He was the bow. The bow was him.

He didn’t need to aim; all he had to do was glance at his target and he knew the missile would find its mark.

A rustle from the treeline to his left disturbed Robin’s thoughts… and made him loose consintration from were he was suposed to shoot his arrow when he missed the target wich was havoc he felt humiliated in front of every one he ran back to his home in disapointment

He had never missed a target before maybe it was just bad luck he drank a cup of cold water to refresh him self and then whent back to were everyone was and said " can i have everyones atention you may think its easy to shoot an arrow but i have been training for 5 years i might be good at shooting arrows but when it comes to somethinkg like this its more difficult so i hope you understand" without looking back Robin ran back home.