A Drunken Arrow Flies Straight

Tobias tipped back his fifth tankard of mead, frowning at the emptiness within it. On his sixth he paused staring into the dark wooden cup and hoped to find a reason for it all. Questions permeated his mind. Questions of who he was and why he was. The tavernkeep interrupted his ruminations, filling the cup again, sending Tobias adrift on the warm air of the tavern. Conversations lulled him from the thoughts that raced through his mind.
Tobias felt emptier than his ninth drink. The celebration died down, like embers smoldering in a burnt out house. The wind carried in the howls of the madness at the walls, reigniting the fervor of the tavern. In a panic people reached for their drinks, the bard got a pitch higher and louder, and the tavernkeep continued to spur on dying conversations. Tobias thought to himself, there was only so many ways you could kick a dead horse.
“What are we doing?” Tobias said, turning to face the woman on his left. A stocky dwarf; she seemed so tall sitting on the stool next to him.
“What?” She tipped back more of her mead, wiping the back of her meaty hand across her coal dusted face.
“You ever wish for something else?”
She set her drink down. “What you on about?”
“You know, I am somewhat of a hunter,” he said, muttering the last word as he thought of the half-dead rabbits he’d killed recently. “Quite accomplished. I could take an apple off your head from, a hundred yards out.”
“Let me guess, recently got a huge brown bear? Right between the eyes?”
“No. The rattiest rabbits I’ve ever seen.”
Tobias stood up looking at his new friend. He waved goodbye and stumbled out of the tavern, stepping out on the damp street. A light drizzle greeted him; dew formed on the fur of his cloak. Tobias started the trek home.
The last of the sun's light stretched over the horizon. Tobias loomed over his own shadow as he walked home. He stuck his arms out and wiggled them, watching as the long tendrils of his shadow danced across the stone road. The roar of the tavern dissipated behind him, replaced by what Tobias could only assume was the distant sounds of war.
Guards clanked in their armor as they ran by Tobias. They eyed him, and occasionally grunted or warned him to stay indoors. Screams could be heard in the distance, but Tobias was preoccupied with his walk home. He focused on not slipping on the stone, a task made infinitely harder by his current state of inebriation; very drunk.
Tobias leaned against a random house in The Minor, peering up the hill through his long wet hair. His house was just up the street, in the proper part of Eronia. He pushed off the house, hoping to find the momentum to carry himself the rest of the way.
Tobias fell, landing in a puddle and slid a bit down the hill. He cursed the cobble. Why would someone design a city like this? Roads should be flat and easy to walk on. Shoddy houses shouldn’t be leaned against each other, this whole hill would come down on itself. One way or another. This town is doomed.
A stillness washed over Tobias, as the cold water seeped through his clothes. The Minor was quieter than it should have been, even someone who stayed in as much as he did noticed it. Lights were out and the streets lacked the usual loiterers.
Yells and howls could be heard from the eastern gate. Someone yelled for more arrows. Tobias got up and shook himself off. He knew they needed his help.
Tobias stepped through his door, hanging up his soaked cloak. He felt his way down the hallway and entered his room. He changed into dry clothes and grabbed a fresh cloak. His bow latched to his back and a quiver at his hip. He set out for the eastern gate.
Tobias found the man yelling for more arrows. A tall and bulky human in dirty full plate armor, with a bright insignia on chest.
“I’d like to offer my marksmanship.” Tobias leaned on his long bow, in an effort to stabilize himself.
The man looked Tobias up and down. “Sure kid, just don’t get in the way,” He pointed to a section above the gate that had a few other archers stationed there. “Join them.”
“Of course,” Tobias said, bowing forward. He caught himself before falling forward, his bow bent almost in half as he put most of his weight on it.
Tobias scaled the ladder to get on top of the wall. An archer greeted him, commenting on Tobias’s bow. It was a beautiful piece of craftsmanship, one of the last things his father had ever given him. Tobias wasn’t one to dwell on family, but he did as the smell of rot came over the wall. A smell that didn’t sit well with the mead. Tobias wondered if his father would mount the wall if he was here. If his father would be proud of who had become.
A human woman grabbed his shoulder. “You’ll get used to it, we all do,” she said, staring out into the dark of the woods. “More will be here any moment.” She grabbed some arrows from a barrel, and crouched against the wall. Tobias smiled, they are just goblins. They can’t do shit to us if we are up here.
Tobias briefly chatted with the archers on the wall, who all quickly figured out his state of being. A war drum sounded from behind the tree line. The archers all crouched, preparing their bows. Tobias stood, nocking his first arrow and letting it fly. One of the archers muttered something to another.
A group of goblins sprinted out from the tree line. Tobias let off another arrow. It sailed over the group and into the top of a tree. His third peeled right, missing the group by several yards. His fourth landed short, a goblin picked it from the ground as they ran by. Tobias thought he heard them laugh at him.
“You idiot, they are gonna mark you.”
Tobias nocked a fifth arrow, not responding to the random archer. Pain sprouted from Tobias’s shoulder as the arrow he had nocked flew wildly off target. He cried out, falling on his back. An arrow protruded from his left shoulder. A few archers shifted to crouch over Tobias.
“Called it. You owe me 5 silver.”