Roland Deschain | The Dark Tower (ofgilead) wrote in madisonvalley, @ 2013-10-26 23:35:00 |
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Entry tags: | !log, !open, ~2013 october, ~~!35 points, ~~roland deschain (ofgilead), ~~scorpius malfoy (hewhowatches) |
WHO: Roland Deschain and OPEN
WHAT: He's not allowed to use their shooting range, so he'll make his own.
WHEN: Saturday evening
WHERE: The Railroad Cut
WARNINGS: TBD
STATUS: Open/Ongoing
The railroad cut was a lovely place this time in the autumn. Roland had done a good bit of research before choosing a place to create his unofficial shooting range, and he had read that it had been cut in 1836, and at the time had been the steepest railroad incline in the world. It went from the hilltop to the Valley, a drop of almost 400 feet - not a small feat in Indiana. But what Roland liked about best it were three specific things. First, sheer rock cliffs rose a hundred feet on each side of the old (and now unused) tracks. They would not only hide the sound, but would also absorb the bullets and insure that his bullets would not travel further than he intended them to. Secondly, it could only be approached from two directions - north and south - and he would be able to see someone coming a long way off. Third, the cliffs gave him a chance to practice all sorts of strange angles and shots, which could only be good - much better than the simple straightforward shot at a normal shooting range.
He had told Cuthbert of his place, but no one else. He had heard that sometimes people came here to scale the cliffs, or perhaps to simply walk, or do more private things. But it was isolated, quiet, and safe, which were the three things Roland most looked for in a shooting range while in Madison Valley.
He had been there some time by now, but had entirely lost track of the time. He'd never had this many bullets to practice with before, and he was still in utter disbelief how many of them he could get for such a small price. With Cort, they'd had to account for every single one, for they were quite dear, and the materials to make them - like everything else - were not in great supply.
But Roland was focused on the target, which he'd placed at about a thirty degree angle above him on the cliff. In both hands he held one of his antique 45's, and he knelt on one knee to match the angle of the target. Without any sign, he began to fire, first from one gun, then the other, leaving only one large hole in the center of the target; a bullseye with every shot. Still, he was not completely content. His aim was good, but his arm had been stiff in the position he held it, and that was unacceptable. The enemy would not stay in one position, and mobility was crucial.
He stood, his face emotionless, holstered his guns, and scaled the cliff to retrieve the target before jumping back to the ground, and looking around him for a better place. A harder place.
That was when he heard footsteps coming up the tracks, and turned, his right hand hovering over the holster of his gun.
"Cry your pardon, who's there?"