The ring rests on a small palm and drinks the room’s window-light as if metal could breathe. Smoke hangs in a slow veil over maps and teacups, an ember answers the draught with a soft pulse, and the hobbit’s fingers…
Some men arrive larger than their birthplaces. They carry a heat that pushes maps outward, seeks new borders, stamps a name into the grain of years. When such a figure drops, ordinary endings jar the ear. An unassuming death jars…
A calm first month comes from a few steady habits. Learn the names of the parts, follow clear steps, and keep short notes after each session. The dictionary below explains the core setup ideas that help every beginner on an…
Archers! A new fictional fantasy serial has just begun.
Bowhunter -
The deathly binds keeping a gigantic sea snake, the Vainglory Typhon, at bay have been broken.
Thriving upon its territory for over a century, the citizens of Fohalin, their land, their cities, and their lives are devastated in the wake of the beast's return.
Yet, as the great beast reclaims its territory, it brings with it more than just obliteration.
Fohalin leadership shatters. Left in their stead is an excommunicated Pastoral from a foreign state, an unlucky and ungrateful hunter, and a pirate captain with a conscience who is bound to the will of his ship.
In seeking to cull the titanic creature they are pitting themselves against something that does not need to adapt to its environment, but rather forces the environment to adapt to its presence.
Whilst it is close to Halloween, I would remind the reader, and archer, that zombies, the undead, however you refer to them, are not a seasonal problem. Just as much as a dog is just not for Christmas, a zombie…
The inquiry is clear and simple: what is paper tuning, and how does a straightforward method on a home-built frame improve the flight of an arrow? A good question, for the true archer seeks efficiency, a clean, certain line between…
I came up with the idea to write this article after reading a message on the club’s chat—one of the fellow archers was curious about horse bows and asked for advice. I liked the brief exchange between him and one…
Knowledge gathers in the hands first. Before theory spreads its mesh, the body enters an agreement with wood, string, air, and ground. A seasoned yew settles into the palm with a weight that carries memory; cool grain moves under the…
Dear Readers, this article arose from a need of the spirit and from the shared curiosity of fellow archers who keep asking the same living questions. Two traditions—Japanese kyūdō and European field archery, especially clout—speak to each other through posture,…
Wind comes off the Irish Sea with a brisk salt that pricks the lip and lifts the gull-cry over the lough, and the ground in Down remembers. The turf keeps a grain of hoof and boot, a thin echo of…
The physical discipline of archery begins with stance—applied biomechanics and declaration in one breath. An archer settles the feet, a shade wider than the hips, weight gathered forward so the balls of the feet drink seventy percent of the load.…
Let me begin plain. What follows isn’t a manual, and it isn’t a coaching note. I’ve no wish to stand in front of anyone with a whistle round my neck. I’m not a trainer, and I’ve never been much of…
You can feel it in the land still, if you’re quiet enough. The way the past breathes up through the soil. We talk of the great warriors, the high kings, the men who stood shield to shield with sword and…
There are many films and series with archery; Vikings and The Last Kingdom carry the standard for today’s historical action. Both draw big audiences, both shape how viewers picture Dark Age war, and both bring bows into rain, firelight, and…
In This Month’s TIFAM: Gold Medals, Political Philosophy Through the archer’s scope, and a Trip Through the Woods The September 2025 collector’s edition of TIFAM is here, packed with tournament triumphs, deep dives into history and philosophy, and stories from…
Once a year, Ballyvally Archers hosts a singular type of competition that exemplifies the enjoyment found in the sport: the Mulligan Hunting Trail. Whilst hunting Frank Mulligan is not the aim of the competition – and just as well as,…
Greetings, Readers… A clean field opens, a breeze crosses the skin, and a bow rises into that light like a living thought. A page turns, a world gathers, and George R. R. Martin’s archers step forward with quivers that carry…
Time walks as my fiercest rival. It gathers more than it gifts and measures each hour with a strict hand, so I stepped straight through that pressure and wrote this book. The seed took hold two years ago as a…
Editorial Review Matt Latimer’s short stories read like late talk around a small kitchen table after rain. You can hear the coat drip in the hall and the kettle sigh. You can see the bow propped by the door, clean…
Elders share a winter story from the northern woods. Frost wrote its fine script across alder and birch, and a young hunter walked a corridor of blue light where breath rose like white birds. A doe stood in the hush and faced the hunter with calm eyes that held a country of knowing. The hunter lifted the bow, and the deer spoke across the space in a voice that sounded like river over stones: “Choose kinship or hunger, and shape hunger through kinship.” The hunter lowered the bow, set palm on the ground, and offered a strand of hair, a button, a pinch of meal from a pouch. The doe stepped forward, breathed into the hunter’s hand, and left one slender rib beside the offerings. From that bone came the first whistle for calling, and from that calling came a covenant—the people would eat through an agreement that carried respect in both directions. The deer would give, and the people would give in return, and the land would carry the memory of that exchange in grass, in hoofprint, in human song. Every archery season rises from that early promise: power serves when consent guides it, and meals carry honor when gratitude leads every step.