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username; Just.Peachy
name; Archer
pronouns; He/Him
game genre Modern fantasy DND/RPG
game role; Healer
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STATS:
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โฐ
Class / bard . druid,
Alignment / True Neutral โฐ
Strength: +0 / 10
Dexterity: +3 / 16
Constitution: +1 / 12
Intelligence: +1 / 13
Wisdom: -1 / 9
Charisma: +2/15
Perception: 11
Initiative: +3
Armor Class: 13
Armor: Light Armour
Hit Points: 15
Attacks/Spellcasting:Healing Word
Two-Weapon Fighting
Punch
Kick
Head-butt
Weapon Options:
Crossbow
Hand
Longbow
Longsword
Rapier
Shortsword
Simple Weapons
CLOTHING:Adventuring .
Chilling .
OtherMOODBOARDS:Dare .
To .
Be .
A .
Dreamerยธยธโฌยทยฏยทโฉยธยธโชยทยฏยทโซยธยธยธโฌยทยฏยทโฉยธยธโชยทยฏยทโซยธยธ
โซโช.ฤฑlฤฑlฤฑll|ฬฒฬ
ฬ
โฬฒฬ
ฬ
|ฬฒฬ
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=ฬฒฬ
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|ฬฒฬ
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โฬฒฬ
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|llฤฑlฤฑlฤฑ.โซโช
THEME SONGS/PLAYLIST:
Golden - Harry Styles
Never Really Over - Katy Perry
Say Anything - girl in red
Endless Ether - fantompower
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WRITING:
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The first adventure Archer went on, was the adventure of being born. In terms of the actual "event" it wasn't all that bad, if anything it was perfect, too perfect maybe. Both his parents were there, he was born in a clean hospital, the sky was magnificent shades of blue, everything was wonderful. They went home to their two story, white and blue modern farm house that was just thirty minutes from the hospital.
And so this story was told: A little boy named Archer was born on May 3rd, to two great parents.
---
Then the storm hit. It came out of the blue, right after the new family got home from the hospital. It was just a light sprinkle for an hour or two, but the sky, and everything else turned pitch black. The rain came down harder and harder, the wind began soon after, pushing it even harder. Storms like this were more than just rare, the last occurrence written occurrence was 200 years ago, it was almost a fluke.
Lightning and thunder shook the house as Archer and his parents huddled in a small closet, surrounded by clothes and smelly shoes. Despite the thunderous roar of the storm outside, the worry of the house coming toppling down, Archer sat almost motionless, his eyes shining at the world around him.
The storm ended a day later, their house still stood, miraculously. Some houses were torn in two, their roofs torn clean off, thrown somewhere else. Trees that were almost 100 years old had been thrown into houses, or split in two with lightning marks to match. The damage that was caused would take years to completely rebuild. Their neighborhood in particular was decently okay after the storm. Sure they had lost power, but the trees that did fall, and the massive flag post, they narrowly missed homes, or fell into the street. Compared to the damage caused elsewhere, it almost seemed like they were in the eye of the storm, or they caught the tail end of it. All they would have to do was rebuild a few fences,
The meteorologists claimed that it was an incalculable error, that their radars couldn't pick up a trace of the storm. They couldn't, not even while it was occurring for most of the eastern land. While this was true, their civilian trust tanked, and only those who personally saw it believed that it was truly a magical event.
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Each year since Archer's birth, almost forty minutes on the dot, on his birthday a very similar storm would hit. They were definitely not as strong, but the storm did cause severe damage nonetheless. The storm became known as "The Anomaly", no one could explain its origins. Theories began, each one growing more and more crazy. Some called it Doom's Day, other's just stuck with what everyone else called it, cults arose for whatever reason, but still no one could figure out why this was occurring. It was a centralized storm that dodged all radars, why was it occurring?
Archer didn't mind much, he somewhat liked the storms that would roll through on his birthday. He never really had many friends, not because he was a misfit or anything, he didn't get bullied, he just preferred to be alone. The friends he did have, were very different from him and each other.
So, every year on his birthday, his friends would come over before the storm, they'd sit down and watch tv until the storm started, which would eventually knock out the power, then they'd play some games. Sometimes it was one a friend brought, other times it was one Archer's family had on a shelf in their living room. They'd stay up all night, drinking soda, eating snacks, playing games. Without fail though, the one comment Archer could never answer would pop up, "it's crazy how this storm happens every year, on your birthday of all days". Some times he'd chuckle, or he wouldn't answer at all, he wished he had an answer, but chances were he would never find one.
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To understand Archer's story, you have to understand a decent amount of the world he lives in. Archer lives in a world of magic, and despite the modern advancements, it has never been lost. Sure, it has changed a bit, but it's not that much different than a few hundred years ago when it was only magic.
Back those few hundred years ago, it was extremely different. Everything was powered by magic, no one was technically behind back then. Everyone went on quests, did tasks for others, it was quite an interesting world back then. Quests, tasks and whatnot still exist of course, though they are harder to find, unless you know where to look. Some places remained the same, so a lot of people who don't enjoy the modern changes move to places that never changed. But enough about that.
Archer lives in a small town, only a few hours from the eastern coast. His house has a modern farm house feel, it is small, but big enough for the three of them. They don't have any actual land, his parents could never grow anything. Even if they did, the storms would probably destroy their crops unless they put some sort of massive and sturdy greenhouse on top of them to keep them safe (which was what most farmers resorted to after they realized the storms weren't random). Instead, they have a decent sized lot on a few acres. Not too close to their neighbors, but not too far either.
Archer's parents dabbled in magic, they did have the ability to use stronger magic, though they never felt the need to, and they didn't have to either. Archer was taught in school, and by his parents of course, to use his magic for the greater good, not for harm. In their P.E. classes, they're taught self-defense spells, some of the more fun teachers teach low level attack spells, but nothing that could severely hurt another kid. Through school, Archer learned that his real calling was healing magic. He always got outstanding grades in their medical themed magic classes, and not so comparable grades in their defense classes.
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Archer's one hope at finding truth was in his own town, his own school. This was the well known conspiracy theory group at his school, called Q.U.E.S.T. (questions used essentially, seeking truth). Now the whole acronym thing was speculation, truth was, no one truly knew where it came from or who made it. There were probably more theories that the school had about Q.U.E.S.T. than the group actually studied.
This in mind, Q.U.E.S.T. did have a major reputation around the school, and even parts of town, for knowing just about anything and everything. They were most certainly the most interesting group around if you even saw them. All that was 100 percent known about them was, one, their advisor, if you even wanted to call it advising, was Mr. Eden, the 70 year old science teacher who was known for sleeping during class, often. Two, their "lair" as everyone called it, was in the school's basement. As to what they did in it, or what they used it for was unknown to everyone except for the few in the club. And so Archer set off to the one place no one ever dared to go... the school basement.
Getting there was easy, getting in was even easier, well until he shut the door behind him. The room was pitch black, which seemed quite odd for... well to be fair that might be expected of this group. Archer swung his backpack over his shoulder and pulled out his phone. He switched on the flashlight, which did a decent job of at least helping him get down the stairs. After the last step, it was clear to him that no one was there.
That was until he was yanked to the side, dropping his phone.
When he could see, it was bright, really bright. At least it was compared to the pitch blackness of the room he was just in. Archer's eyes adjusted to see three other guys, dressed in almost normal clothing, it looked like they were about to go out on... a quest? The first guy, off to his right was on his phone, his black hair curly and wild. He looked just as interested in this whole thing as a bear in hibernation. The next one, who was oddly interested in Archer was straight in front of him, sitting on a backwards school chair. His caramel brown hair flopped around as he turned his head, studying Archer in a meticulous way that was almost creepy. The final one, was a girl, her hair pulled up into a bun, weaving her hands together and apart.
"Quail, did you seriously have to bring him here? We could've just turned on the basement lights and talked to him in the main room." The girl looked annoyed, almost angry at the kid, Quail, who was still sitting on his phone. "Gods, no one listens to me around here." She mumbles, though in the almost dead silent room, it wasn't hard to hear her.
"Oh ignore her." The kid in front of him said, still eyeing him down. "I'm Rake, and that's Seb" Rake pointed to the girl as she walked out of the room, angrily rubbing her temples. "Whatever you do, don't take her seriously. Anyways, welcome to Quest, how can we help you?" Archer was taken aback. These were weird names, and he was literally just yanked from the basement. Not really much time to adjust here.
"I was told you guys are... all knowing?" Archer asked, an open ended, almost question. "I need help." Quail looked up from his phone, suddenly interested as Rake smiled.
"We can help, potentially, what's up?" Quail's voice was harsh and cold, something you'd expect of a side character in some show.
"The Anomaly, it started the day I was born, every day since. What is it?" Rake stood, suddenly walking towards him, and when he got to Archer, he pushed back the chair he sat in. Not fully, just enough to be a little too close. Okay, much too close.
"It's a storm. Want to know more? Join us." Rake's eyes gleamed with a fire Archer had never seen. Was it anger? Was it mischief? Whatever it was, it was terrifying. After an eternity of waiting, Rake dropped his chair back to its original position, and stood. "If you want help, join Quest. Otherwise, take a leave." He started to walk out of the room, but before he could leave, and even to Archer's surprise, two simple words fell from his mouth.
"I'll join."
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Two months after Archer joined the mystical group of Quest, it really wasn't all that interesting. Quail, which he found out was a code name, was always on his phone. Seb, full code name Sebastian, was the "boss". And then there was Rake, well, he was just weird... and hyper. There were others, many others who weren't around as much, and then there was the science teacher known as Red Cross. He led each meeting and had way more to do with Quest than any student that wasn't in the group could imagine. How they kept the secrets of Quest under wraps? Archer could only imagine.
Joining wasn't all that hard either, all he had to do was fill out a form, have it approved by Red Cross and he was in. The code name decided for him? Elite. From then on, Archer was known as Elite Storm (aka Elite) within the walls of Quest, chosen personally by Red Cross. As promised, Rake, Seb and Quail pulled up books, news articles, anything they could find about the Anomaly. By the time they found everything, it was clear no one really knew what the storm was, how it formed, or why it started. Everything about it was a complete mystery other than the time it started every year.
Thanks to local and country wide news stations, they already had one thing, a relatively decent map of where it occurred. With a little bit of editing since the radar maps were off, they had almost a perfect map of where each storm occurred. One thing was obvious, their town was the center of the storm. The other was that each year, the Anomaly grew smaller by a either a half mile, a mile, or two. The decrease in size all depended on one factor, whether or not the storm was intense or weak the previous year. The first year was the worse by far, but on Archer's fifth birthday it was nearly as severe, same on his eighth and twelfth. The storm after those was smaller by two miles, almost exactly. The other ones were harder to sort, while they were easily differentiated from the larger storms, these had more in common. How they ended up telling them apart was the size the year after and the overall damage.
The most recent storm, what they categorized as a class 3 storm, the weakest, got smaller by half a mile, same as many others. The class 3s didn't cause much damage compared to the others. It was roughly the same effect a small tornado would have, a few thrown trees, power outages, etc. The class 2 storms often came a year or two before and after the class 1 storms. The class 2's got smaller by a mile and these ones were the ones where houses got destroyed, there was more lightning, and still had all the destructive qualities of a class 3. Class 1 however, was the worst. It still had the qualities of 2 and 3 storms, but it was like it ramped it up to a hurricane x10. In the eye of the storm, which was the town they lived in, the storm was always roughly a 3, maybe a 2 during the larger storms. Compared to what other areas experienced, Archer, Rake, Quail, and Seb were lucky.
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"I don't get why we have to do this." Said Archer as the rag-tag group drove way past town one Friday evening. On Thursday, Rake demanded quite strictly that Archer, Quail, and Seb pack their bags for a weekend trip. To where, no one but Rake knew from the looks of it. "Do we even have an end goal in mind?"
"Elite, we are going somewhere, just shut up." Quail groaned in the backseat, half asleep against the window as they bumped along on the very damaged freeway. Well, glorified back road to be specific. It had been unofficially retired a few years ago, after people stopped going into the mountains as much. There were faster ways to get past the mountains, and over them was definitely not one of them, surprisingly enough.
They had already been driving three hours before Rake swerved the car into what looked like a very depressed tavern. A good amount of the siding looked either rotted, or it was just covered in so much moss you couldn't see the wood below, and the few stairs looked worn and untrustworthy. There were two other cars in the parking lot, the paint scratched, and they were definitely old models, but existence of anyone else being there seemed illogical.
"Alright guys, hop on out." Rake called out as he stepped out of the car. Seb tumbled out of the car, looking mystified, but in reality she was just shaking off the nap she took. Quail popped the seat down and slid over it from the back, his long legs making it harder for him to get out. Who's idea was it to put Quail in the back? Archer stepped out last, nervous of course.
"That's a tavern." Archer said, as if it wasn't obvious before. Quail glared at him, not saying a word.
"Yes, Elite, it's a tavern. But not just any tavern! This tavern is home to worlds oldest... well, you'll see. He is the knowledge source of Quest, he might know something about your storm." Rake flailed his arms about, trying to make this venture seem more dramatic, which worked on Archer of course, but not the others. He grabbed Archer by the wrist and walked with him up to the door, Seb and Quail trailing behind. Before they could enter a brilliant light crashed through the door, into Rake, who toppled down the stairs, pulling a terrified Archer behind. Laughter from the tavern rushed through the now blown to bits door, and then angry yelling.
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Quail and Seb ran into the tavern, as Archer leaned over Rake. He definitely wasn't dead, but the likelihood of a broken bone was strong, especially if Archer had sustained multiple almost major injuries himself.
Archer pulled himself up, so he was sitting next to Rake and quietly chanted one of the healing spells he could remember, "Tui gratia lovis gratia sit cure."
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