The Medieval Viking Archer: Sir Rufus

[skippie97]

*The hiss of an arrow cuts through the still silence. The spectators stare at the shaft with all the concentration of a jaguar waiting to pounce on its pray. The arrow lodges straight into the round center of the target. The crowd roars it’s approval in what sounds like a gargantuan of a tidal wave. The archer dusts off his dirt-flecked paws and sits back on his haunches while his opponent, Sir Dooly, confidently lets his arrow fly. Sir Rufus proceeds to catch the arrow in his mouth, cementing his status as the master of the game. Sir Rufus, despite his many flaws, is victorious. Now all he requires is a good bath & a nap.*