FM84 » Lair » Archer

Archer

(#16930513)

Level 25 Wildclaw

Familiar

Steelhound

Energy: 0/50

Personal Style

Apparel

Skin

Scene

Physical Attributes

Battle Stats

Measurements

Length

5.96 m

Wingspan

6.89 m

Weight

429.03 kg

Genetics

Coal
Iridescent

Coal
Shimmer

White
Underbelly

Hatchday

Sep 18, 2015
(8 years)

Breed

Adult
Wildclaw

Eye Type

Lightning
Common

Level 25 Wildclaw

Max Level

STR

126

AGI

DEF

QCK

INT

VIT

MND

Lineage

Parents

Pooka
Ix

Offspring

Biography

----FOUR YEARS LATER----

She had come a long way. Her fathers' job for the railroad had got her a seat, and a place to set her sack down. Two weeks later, the lengthy trip on the slow freight is done. She has made this trip a hundred- nay, a thousand times in her mind. As she passed, every tree and bush felt familiar. She felt as though she was headed home, but she had never seen what was over the bluff. Every night for nearly a year she had walked across these parched lands, but every time, just below the crest of this hill, she awoke- sweaty and tired. When she got to the fateful spot, she squatted and swung her sack off her back.

This could only be a bad omen- there has been nothing but those for her- she'd been on a run of bad luck her whole life. Her mom was killed in an industrial accident, and her father had time for nothing but work and sleep. She found herself running through the alleys and subways of the "Lightning Farm". She found the place horrible, haunted by the ghosts of the equipment, a hallmark of an ancient age, and of the spirit and memory of her late mother. But, maybe, just maybe, she could turn that around here.

Pulling the worn revolver out of her satchel, she loaded 4 bullets into it, all she had scrounged before leaving. She wasn't sure the fourth fit. She pulled herself up. Gathering her strength, she confidently headed past the apex of the dune. Sprawled out before her, a scrap of civilization- three buildings, a hitching post, and a nexus of beaten down paths in the hard pack. Making her way down, she instinctively stepped across the dry creek bed, though her eyes lay upon the horizon.

There, she returned to her history of omens. Two women sat, a dry bottle of whiskey between them. They didn't seem to be celebrating, either. The open door to the cabin laid bare the scene. Three squared boards, each scratched out with names, dates, and burial prayers. She knocked on the doorframe, and entered without invitation. The two sitting at the table stirred back to something resembling sobriety when they saw the armed stranger enter. They stood, and one sent her hand to her hip, resting it on a large horn, the handle of an even larger knife.

The taller one, with the red horns piped up: "What, in the f*ck, are YOU doing here?"
"Ain't we devastated enough for today, you sh*theads?" added the round green horned one said.

Archer quickly stuck the gun into the waist of her pants. "Damned thing isn't worth much, anyway." She said, adding "F*ckin' show piece for the mantle."

Greenie wobbled towards her chair and plopped down. Red relaxed her hand, and leaned against the table, speaking.

"Well, unless you're the Reaper or a gravedigger, 'fraid we got no use for you sticking 'round, but you're welcome to bunk on the floor here, or in the barn. We can give you some breakfast and provisions, but I'm afraid we'll be heading outta this assh*le of a plain 'fore long."

"Well, then maybe I can take over the ol' farm! I got gumption and lotsa hard work 'n' de-terr-men-ation, yessir!" She mockingly drawled. She'd chased a dream out to buttf*ck nowhere, and now they were headed out after mom and pa done passed. Goddamnit. Goddamnit all. Continuing on, in her gravest voice she inquired- "What happened, anyway? Who are you two?"

Greenie slurred "F*ckin' bandits! Pieces of sh*t, the lot of 'em."

Red, moving her hand from the table, and retaking her seat, offered Archer a flipped box as a stool. She sat, and Red put a hand on Greenie's thigh. She sighed, and took a long breath as she spoke.

"I'm Aves, and this here's Sycra. Well, I guess, I do owe an explanation. You turn up to empty bottles and two graves, you ought to know why..."

----18 HOURS EARLIER----
The two women drug a heavy cart down the dried up creek bed. It was loaded down wi, th huge chunks of basalt, meant for the rim of a kiln. They chatted as they pulled the two-wheeled cart, occasionally trading off the load, one dragging, the other walking. Unseen to them, however, were three bandits, hungry and desperate for a little coin. The one on the left scoped in the woman dragging the cart, her head in the cross hairs. He looked to the grey bearded man, and when he say his thumb stick up, he focused back on the lady's skull, and gently pulled the trigger. The gore that resulted was extreme, even for the sharpshooter. He worked the bolt and looked back down the scope. The other b*tch was hiding, oblivious to the fact she was outgunned and out manned. She pulled a peashooter from her side, and blindly fired a few rounds, nowhere near the raiders. As she stood, revolver in both hands, she was still skinny to the scope, but the marksman felt confident in another hit. He put her chest in his cross hairs, less flashy, but more likely. He pulled the trigger again and the woman dropped, seemingly dead.

The three ragged men hopped into the creek bed, and walked between the ruts made by the wagon's wheels. Seeing it filled with black rock, the grey beard swore, saying "Dammit! Check their bodies, see if they've got anything- and snag that b*tch's bullets, too."

Rounding the cart, the third man took a few steps towards the woman with the gun. Even as she was shot, she had kept her clutch on the gun. The blood spread from her ribs, and stained the earth. He bent down to pry the gun from her cold dead hands, and as he did, the woman reanimated. Yelping, she pulled off a shot to the man's knee. The large caliber blasted it out, crippling him to the ground. The grey bearded man rushed towards the scene, shotgun already at his shoulder. The woman reached for the hammer, but before she could recock it, the man blasted her in the chest. She slumped, permanently stilled.

He turned towards the one kneed man, and moved his hand to the second trigger, emptied the scattergun. He would've died anyway- the grey haired man reasoned. Still, these two f*ckers better be worth the loss of a man. The two still living pulled all valuables off the three bodies- bullets from all three, and a few coins from the man's pockets. All the women had on them at death were a silver buckle, and a copper pocket watch. The pocket watch was nice. Might even be enough for a few hunks of dried meat, and a bottle of whiskey each.

Archer sat stunned. She had come out here on a dream, and now she had walked into a nightmare. "Well, you know, I ain't got any parents anymore, either. My mom died when I was young- an industrial catastrophe way down southwest. My dad, well he loved the stars, coming from canyon country, but he never saw them in the Farm. And one day, he works his shift and only comes home to grab some food and a blanket. I was off, probably stealing some inane sh*t from a scrapheap, so he leaves me a note, right? And all it said was 'I'm headed for the stars, kid.' and that was weird, he never called me kid."

She gestured to the revolver on the table.

"So I take that gun there, and I start heading out of town, and I'm not even past the mill he worked at when someone bolts into town, on horseback, holding up a guy, just absolutely bloodied. So I run towards the doctor's house, where the horse was headed, and the rider is carrying my dad in. I guess I was just a few seconds too slow to hear his last words. The rider wouldn't tell them to me, said it was best for me. After that, I just hermitted myself in the basement, parts strewn about, all hours of the night and day, trying to distract myself. I guess it worked for awhile. I made a lot of cool sh*t, but nothing sated me. I traded for what passes for a company seat on the railroad, and I came out here."

She left out the part about the dreams, and about the strange device in her bag. She figured that wouldn't win too many hearts.

Aves spoke. She stuttered, almost too drunk to comprehend Archer's story. "Sh*t. Why here though, Archer? There ain't nothing her but a little fjord and this dumb farm."

"Just an easy place to stop, I suppose." Archer was nervous, afraid she'd have to spout out her mad theories and dreams.

"Sure. You're welcome to stay, like I said, but me and her are leaving just as soon as we can."

Archer trotted out to the barn, not wanting to sleep aside the dead. She tossed down her wool blanket, and stashed her sack in the hay. She lay down, and slept easily. She dreamed of falling endlessly into a murky depth.

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Exalting Archer to the service of the Earthshaker will remove them from your lair forever. They will leave behind a small sum of riches that they have accumulated. This action is irreversible.

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