Dave sniggered quietly to himself, and rubbed his hands together. Oh sure, the other dwarves all claimed he smelt of sunshine and outside, and muttered at him about his preference for wandering about outside. But it was just that they didn't understand him.
He looked over the nearby bush, carefully, slowly....carefully...there! Long hours of practice had honed his stealth skills, and the deer was blissfully unaware of the dwarven hunter's cautious approach.
He had to put a hand to his mouth to stop himself sniggering. This was going to be great! The irony!
His hand found the bolt in his quiver, and pulled it out. Intended for practice! He'd show them how a real dwarf practiced - the deer were practice for the next troll he had to kill.
The bolt slid into the slot, and the crossbow raised slowly to his eye. It was an easy shot from this distance. No need to waste metal.....
"The Flying Deer Bone Bolt strikes the deer in the right rear leg, chipping the bone. A tendon has been torn."
"The Flying Deer Bone Bolt strikes the deer in the upper body, tearing the muscle, jamming the left true rib through the right lung, and tearing the right lung. A tendon in the left true rib has been torn.
The deer is having trouble breathing.
The Deer bone bolt is firmly lodged in the wound.
Dave smiled his secret smile. Hilarious!