Dreadlords Shooters Shoot

It was fifteen till midnight, and Colt was bundled in a coat at the old chapel. He could see his breath as winter had come to the Academy. Around him were a small assortment of candles, creating a not-quite geometric enclosure. Colt himself was playing the guitar. Normally the sound would echo and give him away, but Colt was the Aero Vaquero, master of the winds. A couple meters outside the array of candles the noise of the guitar would be drowned out by the wind. Anyone close enough would hear the same song he opened Natalis with not long ago.


He had cast a wide net, asking different girls that caught his fancy to meet him here at the turn of the day. It would probably be a catastrophic evening if they all showed, but he wasn't bold enough to assume he'd catch the starry eyes of every maiden in the academy. Perhaps back at home he was a looker, a noble of a great house, a powerful aeromancer. But the academy was full of powerful mages, and nobility, which seemed to be the best determiners of magical talent in the kingdom. In fact, Initiate Gilgax had once proposed in class that magical talent was most positively correlated with brassiere sizing. From Colt's understanding Harkenov was chosen as his discipliner to emphatically discourage any further discussion of the topic.

What this all amounted to was that the academy was a rather large pond, and Colt knew it despite also knowing he had the properties of a decently sized fish as well. There were no guarantees in life, but he did know a couple of saying from folks wiser than him. Namely "You miss every shot you don't take" and "Shooter's Shoot".

Now all he had to do was wait.

Blake Norah Avery Lucinda

Blake said:

"Oooiii!" she hollered as she approached the chapel. The candles were a bit of a dead giveawaythat someone had disturbed the old place, as was the sudden onset of guitar music.

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The guitar stopped as Blake spoke. It was still a little earlier than midnight far as Colt could tell, which made sense. Colt was often described as “farmboy strong”, but Blake looked like she was carved out of marble, and people generally didn’t get that way without timeliness. He did expect of anybody to show it would be her, but he wasn’t quite out of the woods yet. Still, it was a promising start.

“It’s a way to keep me humble.” Colt replied, with his tone much lighter than his words. “Academy’s not bad, but this instrument is probably the only thing that would stay the same if I wasn’t here. A little connection to the outside.” Colt continued, his words a bit more direct and honest than he typically used. He looked the girl up and down. She was . . . A bit overdressed? And brought a bag? Of what?

“Can I get your coat?” He asked, heading over to her. Perhaps she was hiding a surprise to be unwrapped?


Elsewhere Colt has no recognition of Avery being outside. She might notice the wind was particularly active tonight around the chapel.

The woman took off her coat and threw it, revealing Blake 's . . . normal self? He supposed she wasn't really the type of girl to have a closet hidden and full of lace, but he was a bit disappointed. Colt himself took off his jacket and hat, laying them off to the side before beginning to grab at the buttons on his shirt.

"Really? You mean you'd have been good if I just asked you?" Colt said, loosening buttons as he spoke. "Here I thought you might want a little massaging into the idea. I'm sorry I didn't ask you sooner." Colt continued down the shirt and looked over at Blake somewhat expectantly.