Training: Eyes and Hands [Eitan & Brenner]

[Stefan Dornkirk]

Searing 31, 121

The elder of the two Dornkirk brothers had sent a note days ahead, requesting and reserving a section of the shooting fields for his use and the use of the two men who made up the core of their conspiracy. Not that he had put it thus in the note, of course.

He arrived early, as he tried to do in everything but social gatherings intended for 'pleasure', parking his steam-powered carriage himself before hopping out and slinging his gun bag over his shoulder.

Stefan had two rifles and his sidearm with him and wouldn't mind trying out any of the new regulation pieces Eitan or Brenner had access to if offered the chance.

The other two were supposed to meet him at the pistol range first, where they could show him any new options and give him critiques as needed. They would likely shoot too, being as fighting men rarely gave up a chance for free practice with a skill that could save their lives. Watching was a good way to learn, at least for Stefan, who still considered himself a student in many ways.

Having graduated from both the Battle Academia and the Academy of Sciences, taken over the day-to-day running of the family business and the planning of the Great Expedition the 31-year-old still did not feel as much an adult as he thought he should. Others his age, or even significantly younger than he was were married with multiple children, settled down in lives that seemed like they wouldn't change until senility took them.

It made him wonder, as he took over the shooting booth and set his bag down, if he would become like his married peers. It didn't seem so bad, staying home more often, not having his mother harass him, just left in peace with the people he was closest to. At least, there was the hope that he would be close to the woman he married.

Squatting down he unfastened and pulled out the smallest weapon, checking it over. The ammunition was in a small separate pocket, easy to access but protected against loss. Loading the gun he checked it over a second time and took careful aim at the target. The sound of someone else arriving provided a useful distraction, Stefan's mind filtering out the sound of a greeting and allowing him to remain concentrated on the target. His instincts kicked in and he squeezed the trigger. It wasn't a center shot, several inches to the left of the bullseye on the target, but still, better than he'd worried he might have done. Lowering the weapon he turned with a friendly smile toward the first arrival of his comrades.

[Brenner Dornkirk]

An all too familiar voice said:

"I hope we didn't startle you." Stefan's friendly smile was met with an expression of stern indifference worn on the chiseled face of a towering stranger. The friendly voice had not been his. From behind him, stepped Brenner in uniform.

"Brother..." He returned the smile that had since fallen from Stefan's face, and embraced his sibling. "Allow me to introduce Piers Lightborn." He stepped back from the hug and gestured to the tall, muscular blonde man. "Piers has experience forging paths through the Warrens, so I've enlisted his aid for our Great Endeavour." He noted with a smile,

"I figured this would be a good way for us to get to know one another a bit before we're in the thick of it." Brenner noted, then inclined his head in an apologetic nod, "Pardon me for springing this on you. It was rather a spontaneous notion. We were just finishing up a meeting and I thought to invite him along..."

"Good to meet you, Master Stefan." The tall figure bowed slightly, then gazed across to the target where he noticed the hole left by the single shot taken thus far. "Don't let me interrupt. Please..." Piers gestured for Stefan to continue, taking a few steps back and claiming a seat on the bench right behind Stefan's stall.

"Of course." Brenner stepped back, as well, "We're starting with pistols, then?" Brenner marched back to the bench as well, and opened his weapon case, to retrieve and load his favourite side-arm. The Air Commander was more practised as a rifleman, though he'd had occasion to use this very handgun a few months earlier when he and Eitan had been doing their civic duty at The Godless Temple and needed to put down a few mages.

[Eitan Angevin]

"Well, somebody's got to be last, I suppose," Eitan called as he approached. But he didn't seemed bothered, even though he looked ready to take on the army of Kalzasi single-handedly. The straps of two rifles crossed over his chest, and he had his regulation sidearm at his hip. There was also his regulation saber and what appeared to be a long dagger in its own black, definitely non-regulation sheath. His grin was rather of the shit-eating variety as he stepped up on his friends and Brenner's tall escort.

"Piers, was it?" He put out his hand. "Eitan Angevin, XO Noble Gambit. Part of the grand endeavor, I hear? Sorry, lads. Didn't mean to be skulking. Are we no longer making Kathalan the thing?" But he continued to smile as if it was all some big adventure, and it was, but also his smile could harden into something sharper at a moment's notice when the situation demanded.

Squinting a touch against the light, eyes adjusting to coming out from the Searing sun and into the shade, he marked where Stefan had hit the target. He gave him a bit of a look, but he was just taking the piss. He patted the elder man on the back.

"We'll work on that, won't we?" He winked. Then he began to unsling his rifles and set things up. "I brought a couple of things from the armory to get a variety of practice in." He perked up his ears—thankful they were less perky now than they had been in his youth—and began to check his pistol as if he hadn't checked it before he came, but old habits died hard. Brenner might have news to share, and certainly, he had some, though he could wait his turn.

[Stefan Dornkirk]

Stefan returned the hug offered him a bit stiffly, eyes not leaving the mountain of a man that accompanied his sibling.

"Good afternoon." He greeted in a way so obviously awkward as to make it seem fake or mechanical. The loss of the comfort he felt around Brenner, which was growing to include Eitan in many situations, was not something he was comfortable sharing, or often even referencing, around strangers. Having to shift modes from open to close so quickly caused a jarring effect like the slamming of a door in the taller of the brothers.

There was a long pause after Brenner had stepped back from him in which Stefan and Piers stared at each other in silence before, much belatedly, Stefan said,

"How do you do?" It wasn't quite as constipated as the greeting had been, and it at least sounded like he was addressing a person but he turned away immediately after asking it to face the target once again.

It took him a moment to gather himself, but Brenner's conversation filled the gap and he was composed by the time he nodded and answered,

"I figured we'd start at one end and move up through, though in truth I only brought my pistol and my rifle. I reserved us time with the clay as well."

Eitan's arrival, and subsequent teasing, were taken with less expression or response than the half-breed might have come to expect from the eldest of the trio but there was no easy way to open back up after having to close himself off so quickly, so, Stefan was left with only a curt nod to the last man to arrive. It felt shit to be unable to participate in the conversation in the manner which it was being offered and he hated it, hated himself a bit for it.

Turning again to the target he fired off several more shots while the three other men readied their firearms. His grouping was fair, a lopsided circle but with an obvious center on the target. He'd grown so used to performing while frustrated and uncomfortable it made him wonder, at times, if he wasn't a better shot when in turmoil.

Stepping back to reload and allow Brenner or Piers their chance at the target he pulled the lever that turned the simple mechanical wheel so a fresh target replaced his used one.

[Brenner Dornkirk]

Piers nodded gruffly at Eitan's confirmation of his name, but posed no verbal response.

"I thought we might stick to Common as not to exclude the latest addition to our crew complement." Brenner replied, reaching to place a familiar hand on Lightborn's broad shoulder. Perhaps too familiar, if one were to guess from the sidelong glance Piers cast toward the Air Commander.

"Ah, that's good. They lend out weapons at the counter, if none of us brought a shotgun for the clay." Brenner noted, as he inspected his pistol.

If Stefan's manner with Piers was unfriendly, the hulking ranger didn't seem to take note of it. He was similarly reticent in the mixed company, though they would learn ere long that he didn't wax much more verbose when familiarity was forged.

Once Stefan stepped away from the stall, Brenner turned to Piers and inquired:

"Did you want to go before me, or...?" A grunt answered Brenner's query, which the Air Commander took for a 'no' as it wasn't followed by any motion toward the target so, shrugging, he rose and took up position.

"The trick I use..." Brenner began, "...is to envision someone I despise in the target. I imagine their eyes flanking the bullseye..." He shut one eye and lined the sight of his pistol up with the object of his loathing as he envisioned him. "And fortunately for me," He fired once and the projectile left a hole in the upper right quadrant of the bullseye- Not perfect centre, but a commendable kill shot, "I despise a lot of people." He followed up by unloading the remaining bullets on several imagined rivals, before returning to the bench.

"Eitan, you go next. Piers is borrowing my weapons for today, so it'll give us a chance to reload." Brenner sat beside Piers, and leaned in to whisper instructively about how to reload this model of handgun as he did so.

[Eitan Angevin]

Not bothered by Lightborn's strong, silent type demeanor, he merely nodded. Stefan's response nearly made him sigh, but he knew him well enough to know it wasn't directed at him. It wasn't even directed at Lightborn, exactly, but rather a response to his unexpected appearance. At least, that was what he surmised. He didn't look too deeply into it. He might eventually look more deeply into vetting Piers Lightborn, however. It wasn't that he didn't trust Brenner's judgment, but rather that this endeavor was so high of stakes that they all needed to use their various skills to ensure its success.

"What did you boys think of Myles Arnnett?" he asked. "The corporal at the gala. I was thinking we might tap him..."

If they weren't speaking in Kathalan, he kept things nebulous. They could speak about Arnnett's candidacy more in depth later, but he wanted to at least plant the seed before too much time had passed between the gala and the decision-making.

He took his pistol and sighted the fresh target. There had been times in his youth where he had imagined Brenner's eyes flanking the bulls-eye, but he had outgrown such vindictiveness. Boys would be boys, but now they were men.

As this was his first shot of the day, he took the time to go through the motions more slowly to ensure that he did everything correctly. When learning and when practicing, he always found it best to take his time, reminding his muscles of the proper form, and then speeding up. Then, when one drew a weapon in battle, the patterns of action were laid down and well-traveled and everything remained correct, only much faster.

One shot: close. Another shot: closer. Not his best performance, but not his worst either, he was content for his first round, though he knew things might get competitive with Brenner present. Or his man Piers might be a crack shot, which would lead to more heated competition. For now, though, it was all in good humor. He didn't think Stefan would appreciate the jibing that might ensue, anyway.

Smiling, he turned the wheel to bring up a fresh target, then stepped away to reload.

[Stefan Dornkirk]

The new man, Lightborn, stood with a grunt to follow after Eitan and did himself credit with a level of competent concentration that had Stefan at least less worried the man might shoot him accidentally on the field of battle.

The thought was unfair, and he knew it. Something in him was still peevish at having what he'd prepared himself for, a morning of ease in the company of his brother and his near-brother, turn into something more like the military training he'd endured in the Academy and after in his years of service. It was fine. They were there to do a job and he could relegate the time to just that in his head. It was only that...

Glancing at where Brenner and Eitan were watching the huge man take his shots, offering commentary which seemed to bounce off Lightborn as Stefan imagined actual bullets might, he sighed. The expedition, as well as Stefan's own wedding, were flying up faster than he was really keeping track of and he couldn't help but think of what his life would be like afterward.

The two men, the only two people, he truly considered his friends, his brothers, would be thrust back into their lives as XOs, training and readying their ships and crew for the conflict ahead. More than ever they would be busy, out of reach, doing their duty. He was proud of Brenner, of them both, really, but he would also be losing them in a very tangible way. Even if all three men survived the dangers of both Warrens and War Stefan would stay in the city, raising a family and building the Dornkirk empire ever higher. The chances he'd get to see Brenner or Eitan would grow fewer and farther between until, at some unknown and distant time, they retired.

The years stretching out between now and that time felt infinite. Brenner was unlikely to ever retire if Stefan knew him at all, even if he did, eventually, take a position of command that kept him in the city longer as Eitan's own father currently held. He knew the young Angevin's plans less well but imagined the friendly rivalry would not dim with age or experience.

Looking away from the other three men he found his eyes inexplicably burning and had to blink quite rapidly to stop any emotion from showing. Clearing his throat as he looked up he realized it was his turn again and stepped forward with a haste to catch up that made his initial movements awkward.

"Sorry." He apologized with a gruffness uncharacteristic of his normal voice and took aim rather erratically, correcting and calming himself as he'd learned among the merciless taunting of adolescent peers he managed to get the last half of his six shots closer to the target, clipping the edge of the bullseye with the last he stepped away without a word.

They all went several more rounds, Stefan settling himself out of his hard mood a little more with each one until he was able to take the advice offered him with grace and apply it. When the hour had passed he clicked open his pocket watch to glance at it before saying,

"Shall we move on, gentlemen?" In response to Eitan's earlier query, he said, "I confess I hardly noticed him, I was much engaged with Miss Farroway and the Exhibit. What do you say, Brenner?"

[Brenner Dornkirk]

"Already on it." Brenner grinned instantly at the mention of Myles, "I've set up a date a few days from now to vet him a bit further before tapping him..." The Air Commander cleared his throat, "...to join the expedition. From what I've gleaned from his record, he might be a serviceable member of the tactical team- Perhaps even a candidate to head it up." Meanwhile, Brenner was efficiently reloading his weapon whilst Piers observed with a furrowed brow.

Brenner glanced up occasionally to appraise Eitan's shooting. He was a good shot and pretty closely matched to Brenner himself. Had they the impulse to make things interesting with a competition, it would have doubtless been a worthy face-off. They had the same training and similar experience, even down to their recent shooting experience downtown. These targets were, in point of fact, a great deal more challenging than the deviants they'd put down between mugs of ale, but only due to their distance.

"You're up." Brenner said, with a pat to Piers' back. The large man rose and took the pistol in hand, marching over to the stall and taking his time to line up his shots. He fared better than Brenner had expected, but only because Piers himself had downplayed his abilities so much. It seemed odd that a man with his skill sets was so inexperienced with firearms, but Brenner had such gaps in his own pool of talents, so it was understandable. They were all of them seeking to fill such gaps with training sessions like these. This one went by more smoothly for Brenner, because he was quite good at shooting already. He made a damned good showing, and felt that he'd impressed the other rather than embarrassing himself in front of them.

"And what did you make of Miss Farroway, Stefan? I'll freely admit I found her quite charming. The way she navigated the personalities clashing all around her was, I thought, surpassingly ladylike." He smiled wanly, "The very picture of class."

[Eitan Angevin]

Eitan didn't offer Lightborn any tips, unsure whether they would be welcome or not. To Stefan, though, he offered constructive criticisms. The man did enjoy some light teasing, but he didn't think it would play out so well with a relative stranger present. The man really ought to marry Delia; she was an expert at the social realm, but had a gentleness that would want to protect the man she married when her skills would allow her to. Then the Dornkirks would be his brothers-in-law and he would feel more comfortable demanding they spend time with him. They had the shared goal now, but it would take a thing like family bonds to ensure they never strayed too far from each other in the future.

Pleased with his performance so far, he nodded to Stefan and began to put his pistol away. The clay pigeons would require different skills, though overlapping. A firearm was a firearm in many ways, but the difference between a pistol and a rifle in reality was not a mere trifling thing.

His ears perked up—not literally, thanks to a clever surgeon—at the mention of Jane Farraway. His own memories of her were varied, though they were childhood memories and he didn't carry grudges from that long ago. He wondered if Brenner's interest in her was of the long-term variety. They had ogled beautiful women together on many occasions. Jane wasn't the belle of the ball, but she was pleasant to look at and, from what he gathered, quite smart, which might make for a better wife. Of course, if Stefan did marry Delia and Brenner married Jane or some other lucky lady, it would definitely be time for Eitan to look toward settling down. If the expedition went well and then went public, he might find his prospects much improved, which would be a good thing for his issue.

[Stefan Dornkirk]

Stefan walked beside Brenner as the group made their way from the small arms firing range to the outdoors rifle range.

"I do like her," He said, thinking back to the conversations he'd had with Jane while the two dodged the girl's formidable mother. "She has a good mind for both biology and engineering. I wouldn't mind recruiting her if we should find ourselves in need of more research personnel." The sentence was stated casually, as though he had no specific research in mind. Of course, they wouldn't think to bring a young noblewoman along into the Warrens, but, if their return was triumphant, she could be a real asset. Belatedly he added,

"Yes, she was charming." Not in the overly played, fake feeling way of other young women of their class either, Stefan had been genuinely charmed by Miss Farroway. "I would not mind knowing her better, and," He added a bit abashed at having forgotten to mention it before, "We have made tentative plans to get together to study the effect loss of magic has on biological creatures that have grown dependant on it."

The implications of what such a study could reveal should be obvious to Brenner, and Eitan as well if he was listening.

When they arrived Stefan was, again, the first one to pull out his weapon and prepare to fire. As the least experienced of the four, or so he assumed based on Brenner's description of Lightborn's profession, he figured the others might continue to offer him helpful advice which he could then watch in practice as they took their turns.

Settling the butt of his rifle against his shoulder he signaled for the clay to be fired into the air, following it carefully with his eyes he pulled the trigger and clipped one side, but not enough to shatter it. His next shot went wide altogether. Stepping back to reload the two-barreled firearm he kept his eyes on Brenner as much as possible as his brother stepped forward to take his turn. The younger Dornkirk was known to be an excellent rifleman and often expended his skills upon targets more dangerous and living (if only temporarily after they fell under his rifle's sight) than the inert 'pigeons being let fly for their practice. It would not due to miss what learning Stefan could garner from observing the performance.