easierdonethansaid | Shot 04

[The neat, precise script reveals little, except, perhaps, that the writer is applying more pressure to his pen than is actually necessary.]

It seems I've got a window that's broken. Damage from the storm.

[Which he has iignored for a few days in the wake of the draft.

He's fought wars enough, but that... was new. To say the least.]

Could someone direct me to some supplies to fix it up? I can do the labour myself, but an extra pair of hands or two wouldn't go amiss.

Col S. Moran

[Now, he switches to speaking into the journal.]

Sharpe. [Friendly enough, though perhaps with some personal strain in it. Man to man, not colonel to sergeant.] Care for some shootin'? Jus' good target practice.

[He needs to shoot something to silence his thoughts. He doesn't have the patience to hunt today, and picking off fellow villagers won't do him any favours.]

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

From:

greenjacketed

[ the major has a few issues to work out -- namely a stinging betrayal from a close friend -- and so: ] Christ, sir. I thought you'd never ask.

[ sir, still. despite the man-to-man tone in moran's voice. old habits die the hardest. ]

From:

easierdonethansaid

[With the mood he's in... Sharpe could have gotten away with calling him Sebastian, long as he'd agreed to go shooting

Sir? Well, that helps lift a barely concealed black mood just a touch.]

Down south, by the creek and past the houses? Don' want to go 'bout disturbin' the fine folks here. [How much he ~~doesn't~~ care is in his voice.] Afraid I don' have a proper way to launch 'em, so nothin' movin'.

[Hell, maybe after a few shots at stationary targets, they'll move to hunting.

Pity there aren't tigers here. He could damn well use one.]

From:

greenjacketed

[ it'll be nice just to shoot, he thinks. the hurricane had got in the way of sharpe's sniping -- he'd battled most of the days with his sword.

and as for tigers? well -- some day sharpe might hav the chance to share HIS tiger story. ]

Just shooting'll be nice. I'm not the best shot of my 'talion but I make do.

[ it's an understatement. he's a damn fine shot and second best of his chosen men -- it's just that hagman is inhumanely good. ]

From:

easierdonethansaid

Need to see 'bout some kind of launcher 'fore next time. Get some movin' targets.

I'll see you in half an hour, then.

[True to his word, Moran's waiting about a dozen yards from the southern end of the housing line.

He's set in inconsequential clay and glass targets, things that will make a satisfying sound when struck with a bullet. He has a bolt-action rifle slung over his shoulder. It's not his custom sniper rifle-- which he checks the shops for daily-- but it's reliable.

A good bout of shooting with a fellow soldier? Was a damn good balm for most non-physical ailments.]

From:

greenjacketed

[ sharpe only has his trustd baker. today, he's left his more customary officer's pistol at the apartment; however, a sword that would be laughably inconvenient for a shorter man is still at his side. it swings with a soft, metalling cling on its slings -- the point of the battered steel and leather scabbard brushing tall grass and short shrubs as he ducks past the houses and makes for their meeting spot.

upon approaching moran, he offers the other soldier a curt nod. while sharpe is hardly brimming with social graces or officiousness, there is a sort of natural formality to his stiff movements and his grim demeanour. years as a private has done more to shape him into a straight-backed army man than his commission ever could. ]

Decent day for it. [ a lukewarm greeting. however, lukewarm is a quality that positively shines in the rifleman's tone. ]

From:

easierdonethansaid

[Lukewarm is fine with Moran, especially from Sharpe. Two military men are able enough to get along without excessive fondness.]

Not much of a shootin' range. But it'll do for now.

[He takes a moment to admire the Baker rifle the other man carried. Before his time, certainly, but it was remarkable to see.

Perhaps he could negotiate a swap for a shot or two, just to try a Baker.

Moran smirked slightly as he surveyed the targets.]

Y'know, might be somethin' to do. Build a proper range.

From:

greenjacketed

[ trust, it won't take much negotiating. sharpe gently unslings the well-loved baker and runs his fingers skillfully over its mechanism. ]

A good day's work. [ he agrees. ] All the better if we find a blue coat to string up like a dummy.

From:

easierdonethansaid

Bet we could.

[He laughs, warm and friendly.]

We'll see 'bout gettin' one before next time.

From:

greenjacketed

[ almost casually, richard grabs a cartridge from the pouch on his belt and bites it open. he pours the powder. ]

How was your bit of war, then?

From:

easierdonethansaid

[Moran, the gun loaded and ready, just raises his rifle, aims, and takes a shot.

It's a very satisfying thing to hear glass shatter.]

Chaotic.

Never seen anythin' like that before. Those things they want us t' fight? Have methods I wouldn' have believed if I hadn' felt 'em.

From:

greenjacketed

Methods like what?

[ with the piece primed and loaded, sharpe takes his turn to lift his rifle to his shoulder. he breathes out and...crack. the baker coughed up a cloud of smoke.

in the short distance, another glass shattered. sharpe smiled. ]

From:

easierdonethansaid

It was like a dream.

[He pulls the bolt, ejects the cartridge, and the next one slides into place within the gun before he hauls it up again and takes another shot.

The crack of the gun is almost as soothing as the breaking of porcelain.]

Back in India. Everythin' I could've wanted 'round, an' the brute behind it? Looked like a friend in it. Had to shoot him to get out.

[It's presented passively enough. Like he's just relating action of a war. Glossing over the difficulty that presented.]

From:

greenjacketed

Fever dreams. [ sharpe spat. he's still warring with his ability to accept magic and the supernatural. ]

Though...slick piece you have there, Moran. [ no biting! no pouring! so quick to reload! ]

From:

easierdonethansaid

[Let's talk about the rifle. Talking about the rifle is easier than talking about the strange things that draft caused.]

Bolt-action rifle. First manufactured on a large scale in 1824, first used in combat by the Prussians in 1841.

[He turns the bolt up and pulls it back, revealing the bullets ready to fire.]

Stores a magazine-- set of bullets-- in a compartment under it. Five rounds to a magazine, this one.

[He pushes the bolt forward, hears the next bullet click into place, then turns the bolt down to close the breech.]

Makes for good, quick firing. Add a scope to it, an' you got an even better shot of hittin' what you aim for.

[He doesn't use his scope to hunt, but in war? He made damn good use of it.]

From:

greenjacketed

...Christ.

[ he can feel his blood turn green with envy. it isn't that sharpe doesn't love; depend upon; appreciate his baker. the rifle is an extension of his himself, these days. but he's not blind to progress when he sees its advantages. ]

A bit bloody better than three rounds a minute. [ the mark of an excellent rifleman, in his time. ]

From:

easierdonethansaid

You ought to see the pistols.

My employer? Acquired [through a bullet of Moran's, but] an arms fact'ry. Owner died, the pr'fessor had a considerable bit invested in it, so, he took it over.

Self-repeatin' pistols. Magazine attaches to the gun, an' ten shots before y' have to do a thing to reload. Not even with a bolt.

From:

greenjacketed

[ he's still casually reloading his baker. don't mind him. ]

Our lot'd pay a pretty penny for guns like that. The war'd be over damned fast.

[ was that a good thing or a bad thing? for a soldier's soldier like sharpe, it could mean the end of his identity... ]

From:

easierdonethansaid

[Moran smiles, not seeming bothered by the reloading at all. Sharpe can appreciate progress, he can appreciate history. Not a sharpshooter alive-- especially in the Army, let alone the Rifle Brigade-- who doesn't know how much they owe to the Baker rifle and the men who used them.]

Unless the other side got 'em, too.

Then both sides just pull in more soldiers.

Wars still last.

From:

greenjacketed

I suppose I should take that as a comfort.

[ it's the sort of notion one could only ever voice to a fellow soldier.

sharpe lifts again and trains his eye on a metallic glint. something thin and tinny, he supposes. he squeezes the trigger and hears the triumphant screech of wrenched metal. the crack of wood splintering somewhere beyond. ]

From:

easierdonethansaid

[And it's a notion Moran understands too well.

In war itself, he is exceptional. "The best marksman in the British Army."

Out of war... Well. He had a few scandals. Too hot blooded to take to peace well, so when he didn't have a war to excite him, he found trouble.]

Is to every soldier.

[He takes another shot himself.

This? This is what he knows. Talking with a fellow Army man, shooting.

Only a matter of time, he knows, before he gets himself into trouble. A few days in battle isn't enough. Not for him.]

From:

greenjacketed

When I think about life after the war, I...

[ he doesn't know, really. but he has a line that he likes to give out. a line that's mostly a lie: ] I wouldn't mind buying a little farm.

From:

easierdonethansaid

Make sure it's a new one. Or one stugglin'. Gives y' somethin' to do.

Nothin' worse for a soldier after war than havin' nothin' to occupy himself.

From:

greenjacketed

And I'm not looking to be the bedraggled drunkard on soft duty at the Chelmsford depot. Something to do, aye. That's what's needed.

Here, too.

From:

easierdonethansaid

Jus' a matter of time here, I figure. [Shift the bolt, put it back, fire.] 'Til trouble starts creepin' up on me.

Happened in India after the war, an' I haven' found much t' do here to keep it away.