The Great Wolf
Thirdas took a good long look at his surroundings before deciding to get into position, laying down in the snowy mosses and carefully setting up his mother's old rifle. There was a sense of trepidation knowing he had not asked her permission, for her wrath was far more frightening than that of his father. With dad he knew what to expect; the stern but concerned talk, telling him why what he did was wrong followed by a hug to reconcile, recently replaced with a simple pat on the back as Thirdas was no longer one for such closeness. His mother, on the other hand... He had yet to see her mad or disappointed, which only made him more fearful of when it finally does come to pass. Stealing her trusty sniper rifle from her Republic days, he figured, would surely set her off. But he had spent too many late nights staring at it when no-one was looking, having discovered its hiding place years ago.
So this time, he decided to finally act on his desires. He felt he was old enough, having long since tired of the usual practise with sword and axe under the constant vigil of the instructors. Being out in the wilderness, even though Fridheim was but a stone's throw away, with a real weapon he knew had the potential to kill felt like he was finally in control of his actions, and consequences. Simply holding it felt liberating, no longer caught in a safety net constricting his every move. This was life or death, and he relished the feeling.
Having deployed the accompanying bipod to steady his aim, he looked down the scope onto a group of rocks he'd set up in advance. At first he thought he'd forgotten to remove the lid as all it showed was blackness, only to moments later realise he was keeping the wrong eye closed. Quite the embarrassing start for the young warrior. "Damn nerves," he scolded himself before giving it another try, this time keeping his right eye open which made all the difference. There they were, the six rocks placed upon one another forming a pyramid. He took a practise shot at the top one, hearing the *click* as he squeezed the trigger.
Taking another quick look around for signs of being watched, he then reached into his satchel to whip out a full magazine of live rounds and struggled to pop it into place, for the fit was more snug than expected. His heart pounded as he checked the safety one last time, then took aim at the rocks once more. He felt his trigger finger begin to tremble and his mouth run dry, followed by a moment of hesitation. He'd never even heard or seen a bullet being fired in real life, let alone seeing someone get shot. What if someone were to unknowningly step in the way of the bullet? He would never forgive himself.
A bead of sweat trailed down his temple, and with one last mental push he pulled the trigger.
He'd expected a loud roar as it went off, but instead his entire body tensed when instead there was another *click*, just like before. "What the...?" All at once there was a sense of relief, coupled with annoyance that it did not perform as he thought it should. "Is it the safety? No, it says it's off." He began to inspect the rifle, checking that everything looked as it should. When convinced such was the case, he gave it another go. This time he just wanted to get it over with, wasting no time in pulling the trigger. Again, another *click*.
"Oh, come on," he snarled with frustration, pulling the trigger again. And again. More *clicks*. With each try he took less care in keeping hidden, and by the end he'd abandoned his post in favour of standing upright, still aiming for the rocks yet the rifle just did not fire. Finally he threw it on the bed of snow and moss out of anger, impatience getting the better of him as often was the case. "Gods be damned, you broken piece of crap!"
So this time, he decided to finally act on his desires. He felt he was old enough, having long since tired of the usual practise with sword and axe under the constant vigil of the instructors. Being out in the wilderness, even though Fridheim was but a stone's throw away, with a real weapon he knew had the potential to kill felt like he was finally in control of his actions, and consequences. Simply holding it felt liberating, no longer caught in a safety net constricting his every move. This was life or death, and he relished the feeling.
Having deployed the accompanying bipod to steady his aim, he looked down the scope onto a group of rocks he'd set up in advance. At first he thought he'd forgotten to remove the lid as all it showed was blackness, only to moments later realise he was keeping the wrong eye closed. Quite the embarrassing start for the young warrior. "Damn nerves," he scolded himself before giving it another try, this time keeping his right eye open which made all the difference. There they were, the six rocks placed upon one another forming a pyramid. He took a practise shot at the top one, hearing the *click* as he squeezed the trigger.
Taking another quick look around for signs of being watched, he then reached into his satchel to whip out a full magazine of live rounds and struggled to pop it into place, for the fit was more snug than expected. His heart pounded as he checked the safety one last time, then took aim at the rocks once more. He felt his trigger finger begin to tremble and his mouth run dry, followed by a moment of hesitation. He'd never even heard or seen a bullet being fired in real life, let alone seeing someone get shot. What if someone were to unknowningly step in the way of the bullet? He would never forgive himself.
A bead of sweat trailed down his temple, and with one last mental push he pulled the trigger.
He'd expected a loud roar as it went off, but instead his entire body tensed when instead there was another *click*, just like before. "What the...?" All at once there was a sense of relief, coupled with annoyance that it did not perform as he thought it should. "Is it the safety? No, it says it's off." He began to inspect the rifle, checking that everything looked as it should. When convinced such was the case, he gave it another go. This time he just wanted to get it over with, wasting no time in pulling the trigger. Again, another *click*.
"Oh, come on," he snarled with frustration, pulling the trigger again. And again. More *clicks*. With each try he took less care in keeping hidden, and by the end he'd abandoned his post in favour of standing upright, still aiming for the rocks yet the rifle just did not fire. Finally he threw it on the bed of snow and moss out of anger, impatience getting the better of him as often was the case. "Gods be damned, you broken piece of crap!"
[member="Coci Heavenshield"]