“Oh my Gods, you are testing my patience!” Ernst half-growled half-laughed. “Ohohoho,” he held his heaving chest. “How is it even [i]possible[/i] for you to be such a bitch, heavens above?! You make me want to wring your neck, just nnnnrrgh!!”, he choked the air physically with his hands to emphasize, before bringing them down to take one of the last spoonfuls of pottage from his bowl. “And please, don’t talk about something like archery if you don’t know shit about it, because let me tell you that brute force is a big part of the art, as the good training sergeants have drilled me into knowing and having. I can do speed well enough, but you really need to have a proper body to be able to draw good stones on the bow, or your arrow will either not have enough force to fell your target or probably flop on the ground uselessly. Granted, accuracy is a big deal, but I’ve hunted deer long enough from distances near and far to get a good knack at it. Trust me when I said earlier than I can pin a man down from a hundred yards, but you probably won’t.”

He took his tankard and took a long swig from it, clearing his mouth and throat of the residue of food and replacing it with the sour taste of good beer. “Speed doesn’t matter much in archery unless the enemy is close and you’re being shot at yourself.”