Name:
Archibald
Appearance:
Standing at 6' 0" with emerald gentle eyes and sandy brown hair framing a handsome face, Archibald's is seemingly locked into a relaxed smile at all times. His long hair cascades over his right eye, and indeed, the majority of the right side of his face, giving him a mysterious, if somewhat unkept air about him, almost as if he's hiding something... Wearing a mix of form fitting linen underclothing, leather straps and pads and animal furs under a forest green cloak, it takes little wonder to guess what his home environment is. A tattered black and red bracer over his left arm protects it from his own bowstring while weathered brown leather boots afford him comfortable movement.
Apparent Age:
Early twenties teenager
Gender:
Male
Nation:
Lawless, but Grado.
Class:
Archer
Weapon Mastery:
Bows: C
Level:
4
Background:
Most people would call Archibald a bandit, a thief, a scoundrel, an urchin, and all other manner of unsavoury names, and yet others would call him a saint, a saviour and a hero. He himself considers himself none of these, simply a person going through life trying to make it better for others...by redistributing the wealth of other people. Among Grado's officials and investigation force, his name is a byword for poaching, and yet he is low on the priority list. This is most likely due to the fact that compared to the other roaming bands of bandits out there, Archibald and his merry misfits are relatively peaceful, having caused extremely few human casualties in their operations. While it may seem that he simply does this out of the kindness of his heart, he actually does this as a form of petty spite.
Years ago, Grado underwent a famine which hit specific areas harder than others. With each county ruled by a lord or an equivalent, they were meant to send relief supplies out to sustain the outlying villages as they attempted to resow the failed harvest. Only, it didn't happen. For days Archibald's village waited for the telltale clacking of a horsedrawn cart but the roads remained clear and silent. People starved in the streets and in their homes, resorting to eating rodents and poisonous weeds. Finally, having had enough, Archibald's father took him to the big city to ask for aid, his father confident in the better side of mankind. What they saw in the Lord's castle instantly crushed all hope. A corpulent blob was seated on the velvet throne, mocking all those who appealed to him, throwing half chewed bones at him and his father as they pleaded. The area around the castle was lush and filled with pheasants and the like. And yet he refused to send supplies. Disheartened, he and his father left for the village once more to deliver the news.
Headstrong and unwilling to accept this, Archibald snuck out one night with his father's bow and entered the lord's forest during the darkest time. Avoiding the torchlight of the guards, he proceeded to poach not one, not two but three pheasants, shooting them out of their roosts in the treetops. Growing greedy, he approached his fourth only to have a hand reach out and grab his back firmly. In less than a second he felt a searing brand slap him across the face, searing hsi flesh and melting it like wax. Though he screamed, the pain didn't stop. The guard drew a dagger to finish the poacher off but as he slashed Archibald pivoted, the blade running through his cheek and scoring his eyelids before slicing off a portion of his face, leaving him permanently disfigured. Leaving with two pheasants in hand, he stumbled away into the forest, blood dripping down his mutilated head.
When he returned home he came upon the realisation that he would most likely be hunted and, knowing the personality of their lord, would most likely have his entire village be executed for his actions. Leaving the two pheasants at his parent's door, he stole some bandages and proceeded to steal his way into the night. Come morning, he inspected the damage to his face. The right cheek was almost entirely missing, revealing a disturbing rictus grin and the white of bone. His eye bore a vertical scar that almost bisected both of his eyelids, with his sclera turning red from damage. In short, he looked like a terrifying daemon out of his village's storybooks. Committing himself to exile, Archibald accepted that he would never look normal again...but he could make the ones who made him like this pay. Gathering a group of like-minded people, they began to raid forests and farms owned by selfish lords, redistributing the food to those less fortunate. Covering the mutilated side of his face, he began to become something of a folk hero to the local villages who were just starting to recover from the famine, and a pain in the arse to the local garrisons.
Fast forward to current time and Archibald has become a giant prick in the side of Grado's aristocrats who regularly have caravans raided at bowpoint. Half of the wealth is removed and given to the less fortunate. Unable to ignore the plight of the downtrodden, Archibald bears a distinct hatred of nobility and the like, even more so when they are unable to defend themselves.
Plot-Susceptive:
Yes
Equipment and Items:
Iron Bow X 1
Vulnerary X 1
Door Key X 1
Personality:
Archibald can best be described as a lazy free spirit. Carefree and easy going, he would rather nap in the bough of a tree than chase a caravan...and yet he chases it for the benefit of others. He does whatever he likes to do whenever he wants to regardless of social conformity, whether it be patting a fair maiden on the head as he passes or kneeing a particularly annoying lordling in the groin as he berates the 'bandit' for taking his dowry. And then, of course, his personality shifts if he parts his hair the opposite way. Becoming a demonic force with the fury of a snake pit, his arrows seem to grow barbs as he fires, leaving his enemies squirming in agony. Thankfully he tends not to do this for fear of ruining his image and seems to be a voluntary shift more than anything else.
Ability Assessment:
As a skilled archer, Archibald has high skill with his bow, allowing him to pick out, hit and eliminate targets with precision. Factor in his speed and you have an efficient long range assassin capable of felling any foe not wearing a suit of plate armor. Of course, Archibald is not a jack of all trades. With low defense and resistance, Archibald is something of a glass cannon, and with his right eye covered he actually has a very narrow field of vision, but anything within that field is very likely about to be peppered with arrows. This means taht Archibald usually enjoys company to watch his back.
Quirks/Talents/Aspirations/Other:
- He's a boy in his early teens...he's quite interested in the opposite gender, but most usually run away when they push his hair aside. However, he must admit that he does enjoy terrifying his friends and new recruits alike. (Note: Actually quite shy when interacting with the opposite gender)
- Has voluntary bipolar
- Enjoys chewing a sweet, sticky resin that hardens into a gum that is found in trees native to Grado. Has a jar of this resin in his pouch
- Dislikes authorities and authoritarian characters, particularly nobility.
- Speaks with a lazy drawl
- A little scared of the occult. By a little I mean he's terrified of ghosts and the like
R-button Summarization:
A friendly poacher who wanders around Grado with his merry band of bandits. Has a hidden dark side.
