Events that are better left undocumented
Obvious stuff is obvious, I own nothing, except perhaps the scenario maybe.
"Quite a view up here." The Inquisitor said with a hint of mock wonder "I can see into my room. Hey, who let the nugs out?" He was perched upon The Iron Bull's battle hardened shoulders.
The two of them had been charging around Skyhold's courtyard 'Perfecting a new fighting style' Bull would grin when questioned, if you were willing or crazy enough yourself to approach such madness. Lavellen was looking heroic with a medium sized cooking pot on his head, the one used to make stews in when out in the field, and an impromptu lance in the form of a mage staff with a sharp metal point on the end and some kind of shiny green gem that matched his eyes on the other. He had managed to skewer two training dummies on it and was aiming for a third, that happened to be the one Cassandra was using. The sight of their boss charging towards them lopping the heads of dummies sent the training Charger mercenaries scattering. The Inquisitor narrowly missed a surprised Cassandra and piked the dummy trough the head lifting it up away. Suffice to say she was not happy at being interrupted or having most of the training equipment destroyed for amusement and conveyed that displeasure though the medium of heated words punctuated with flailing arms in angry jerking motions.
Bull slowed to a stop to catch his breath leaning on his pole-axe, as Dorian had appeared from the tavern to investigate Cassandra's angry yelling, leaving his cards unattended, no doubt Sera will peek at them, and Varric tagging along in the hopes of finding a good story.
"This is not what I thought of when you were yelling 'I'm riding the bull!' " Dorian commented, twirling the end of his evil Tivinter mustache.
Varric doubled over in a sudden outburst of spluttering laughter.
As you could guess, it was turning out to be a slow day. A sunny, there-is-hole-still-in-the-sky-but-we-can't-deal-with-it-now-anyway, slow, boring dull day. Surprisingly there was no crisis to deal with, no meetings, no dragons and no nobles' arse to kiss or kick.
The mage staff-turned-lance was was quite heavy, having acquired three unwilling passengers so the Inquisitor unceremoniously dropped it four feet to the ground. Only for it end up propped up like the two dummy's were murdering the third. Straw stuffing strewn everywhere.
Out of curiosity Lavellen tapped his nail on one of Bull's horns and was rewarded with a dull thunk sound. Solid. Somehow he had expected them to be at least partially hollow. He wondered how Bull could keep his head up with the weight of them. He could rest his chin on his chest, he was tall enough to be always looking down anyway, so one would notice.
"I have an idea. Varric? You wouldn't happen to have a spare bow sting do you?" The Inquisitor asked innocently.
After rummaging around in his pockets the dwarf found two and handed one to the Qunari who passed it up to his elven passenger.
"What-? What are you doing up there Boss?" Bull asked suspiciously, feeling a gentle but persistent tugging on his horns. The elven rouge had deftly tied the bowstring to both protruding, supposedly bone, appendages and made a kind of crude slingshot-bow-thing.
Varric, catching on to the Inquisitor's mischief, tossed up one of Bianca's bolts. The Inquisitor casually plucked it out of the air as if he had all the time in the world.
"Are you sure this is wise?" Solas had silently snuck up upon the merry band of whatever you call four people messing around.
"Wise? Probably not. But with an archer, artifacer, warrior, and now two mages, what could go wrong that we couldn't deal with?" Lavellen murmured somewhat dismissively, inspecting the crossbow bolt and smoothing the fletching with a thumb. Bull's horns were much stronger, sturdier and not mention bigger, than a conventional bow or crossbow and theoretically could take more strain and launch a projectile further and with greater impact.
With a resigned sigh Solas said with a similar tone a mother uses when resigned to the fate that her child will to do that thing that she said not to and knows it will only end in tears and a skinned elbow "I'll find a healer." and slunk off before anyone even had a vague notion to object.
Aligning the bolt with Bulls brow, Lavellen leaned back as far as he dared, drawing the bowstring.
Iron Bull had been strangely quiet and still, probably waiting for whatever was about to happen to happen and then find out just how far he could throw a crazy elf. Turns out it's further than the bolt went.
The bolt flew majestically for seven paces before nose-diving into the dirt.
Varric sauntered over to the bolt, almost exactly upright in the dirt, and swaggered back to the group twirling it in one hand. "Well that was disappointing."
"Maybe an arrow? It is lighter." The Inquisitor suggested.
"Might break. Worth a shot though." Varric inwardly smiled at the pun.
An arrow was found and the process was repeated with much better results. Arrow loaded and ready. The Inquisitor let the string slip from his grasp. The arrow sailed though the air like a bird and hit the wall with the same sound a bird would have made, a sharp crack. The arrow's shaft had shattered with the sheer force of the impact. On closer inspection the arrow head had survived and buried itself between the keeps bricks.
"Damn." Lavellen said quietly.
And thus ends the tale of the Quani-pult or Qunari long bow. No one's thought of a good name so far.