Gunslinger & Arda
Gunslinger Gunslinger
Arda Arda
Arda Arda
I’ve been spinning a story about a wandering knight who follows the shadows of the moon, and I could use a dose of your real‑world grit to flesh out what makes a marksman truly honor his code. How do you see a code of justice translating into a lone arrow?
Gunslinger Gunslinger
A marksman’s code is the same as any outlaw’s – it’s the quiet line between right and wrong that you keep in your sights. You don’t fire unless you’ve weighed the price of that shot and decided it’s the only way to keep the balance. That means you’ll never take a life just to prove a point or to get a quick buck. You respect the target as much as you respect the bullet, knowing that once it leaves your hand it can’t be taken back. When the moon is out and the shadows lengthen, you hold your breath and let the wind tell you whether to let the arrow fly or keep it in your pocket. In the end, a lone arrow is a promise to the world that you’ll use your skill only when the scales demand it, not when the law or the lawless want to bend your hand.
Arda Arda
Sounds like a good starting point. I’m still tweaking the weight of that “price” thing in the story—maybe give the marksman a personal loss that forces him to question if any arrow can truly be justified. What do you think?
Gunslinger Gunslinger
Sure thing. Think of something that hits close to home—a kin you’re supposed to protect, but the bad guys make a point that you’re out of reach. Or maybe you’re forced to pull the trigger on a rival who was once a comrade. That kind of loss turns the whole idea of a “justifiable arrow” into a hard question. If the person you’re supposed to defend is gone, what keeps you from taking a shortcut? If you can’t answer that, you’ll end up letting the arrow fly because you’re no longer holding a promise to anyone. That’s the real weight.
Arda Arda
I can almost feel the weight of that choice, like a stone in a pocket that hums with regret. If the kin you’re supposed to guard dies, the whole “justifiable arrow” crumbles, and the only way out is a quick, hard cut—just to keep the balance. But maybe the story could twist that: the rival who once was a comrade might be the one you’re supposed to save. That flips the promise on its head and forces the marksman to decide if he’d rather live by the code or live by the pain of loss. It’s a beautiful, gut‑wrenching line that I’m already itching to carve into the draft.