Oakley
(#57417594)
Level 25 Wildclaw
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Energy: 0/50
This dragon’s natural inborn element is Water.
Female Wildclaw
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Personal Style
Apparel
Skin
Scene
Measurements
Length
6.68 m
Wingspan
6.37 m
Weight
393.7 kg
Genetics
Ginger
Savannah
Savannah
Soil
Trail
Trail
Driftwood
Stained
Stained
Hatchday
Breed
Eye Type
Level 25 Wildclaw
Max Level
STR
115
AGI
8
DEF
5
QCK
76
INT
5
VIT
17
MND
5
Lineage
Parents
- none
Offspring
- none
Biography
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Oakley
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 Legend of the West
"The Sure Shot"
From a young age, Oakley has known how to fire off the most deadly of shots. Though born to a water clan, she soon sought brighter horizons in a travelin' band of entertainers. Oakley has risen to fame for her keen aim and lively presence on the stage. She can shoot cards clean through when thrown through the air, and she's been known for a special trick of shootin' the end of a cigar clean off while it rests between teeth. Rules and kings from all over have requested shows and not been disappointed in the slightest. With her hard-earned fame and wealth, Oakley supports charities around the land for the poor and encumbered. She campaigns the idea of a workin' woman, showin' those silly men how-to, and teachin' young ladies how to aim and shoot just as well. Oakley has left behind her original band of travelers, but still does a quick bit of entertainin' where she can. She's seekin' for a new clan to call home and pledge her bow to. There's criminals and outlaws out there, threatenin' innocent folk, and she just won't stand for that at all. When it gets down to it, Oakley has a good heart and a free soul. She's likely to brighten up whatever room she enters and uplift even the most drowsy and depressed. Find her dancin' in taverns and dens, makin' up a ruckus wherever she goes, spendin' her life in search of excitement instead of lettin' it pass her by. |
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"I ain't afraid to love a man. I ain't afraid to shoot him either."
Oakley hardly hoards anything and ain't your regular dragon. She gives away more than she takes, often just tossin' her earnin's to a good cause instead of keepin' it to herself. If anythin', she gathers papers to write her biography on along with notes on wild animals and huntin' guides.
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Oakley shot her first arrow as a hatchling. She gathered up her papa’s quiver and got herself a proper target in a little discolored rock on the cliff’s head. At a mighty fine distance of ten paces, she hit the rock dead-on. All day and all night she practiced with her pa’s bow, until the morning search party came and caught her red-handed.
“Stop that,” her papa said, snatchin’ the bow from her tiny arms. “Bows are not for little girls. Now go swim.”
But Oakley wasn’t fit for swimmin’. She floated like a brick does, which is to say not at all. She barely kept her long neck above water as her clanmates basked in the waves. Frustrated, she got herself on land and gave up that nonsense. While the others would swim, she’d be deviously devising how to get her hands back on that bow.
Her first days as a hunter were long and awkward. She snatched sunnin’ lizards and sleepin’ rabbits quick, but other prey eluded her. Tired of huntin' without, she became adept at stealin' her pa's bow while he was asleep, returnin' it before he woke in the mornin'. Nobody tended to notice Oakley napped durin' the day.
Time passed.
Then came the travelin’ band of sharpshooters. They rode into town in a hustle of dust and wind, wearin’ strange clothin’ from the shattered plains of the thunderlands. Oakley was put away with the others as their elders met them with suspicion. It wasn’t long before it all came to a stop when they understood those bows were just for a good ol’ show.
The leader called out to the crowd and his voice echoed where Oakley could hear.
“I done placed a bet!” he called. “Ten of these mighty fine gems to the one who can beat my shot!”
Oakley snapped into motion. She broke out of the den and grabbed her father’s forbidden bow. She marched right on up to the showman and yelled with her tiny, proud voice:
“I’ll take your bet!”
Well, the showman didn’t expect a youngin’ of all things to pick up the bet. He laughed and laughed at her as her papa strode over with disapproval.
“Wait.” The showman stopped her pa. “Well, why don’t we give the little girl a chance?”
Her pa grumbled, but stepped back. Everyone was watchin’, after all.
Oakley readied at the line. It was farther back then she was used to, but she had the wind at her side and a steady hand. The showman settled in beside her with masterful practice, firin’ off his bow.
And Oakley met him shot for shot.
Tension grew as the showman had to out-preform the young woman. He took steady breaths, tryin’ not to get all flustered, but as Oakley continued to hit her marks -- he began to sweat.
The final shot.
The showman smiled at the crowd and drew back his bow, hidin’ how scared he was. Oakley prepared in his shadow, keen eyes measurin’ the distance toward her target, tail swishin’ to know the wind.
One final chance. The showman grit his teeth at Oakley’s confidence. He measured once, twice, three times, drawin’ his bow with shakin’ claws, his arrow jitterin’ in place, his eyes waterin’ from sweat. He fired.
And missed.
The crowd didn’t make a sound. They sucked in a collective breath, all eyes turnin’ to Oakley, who looked at completely at ease.
She tossed a smile over her shoulder before shootin’ straight at the target, hittin’ it dead-on.
The gems were hers.
The showman quickly bowed, defeated, and offered Oakley up the pouch. She tossed it to her clanmates with a shake of her head.
“The only reward I want is a bow and freedom,” she said to the showman. She grinned, full of teeth and a yearnin'.
“Let me travel with you and I’ll teach you how to shoot just fine.”
Anne Oakley
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This dragon doesn't eat Insects.
Meat stocks are currently depleted.
This dragon doesn't eat Seafood.
This dragon doesn't eat Plants.
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Exalting Oakley to the service of the Lightweaver 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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