Zazul Posted Sep 15, 2018, 1:12 am

It was a dead quiet night in the snow covered hills of Morgan when Jaquelin "On Target" Osborne of the Waskal Wabbits gang approached the front door of the inn. With a heavy heart, chapped lips, and icy fingertips she peered back towards the horizon of her old life, catching a glimpse of her comrades fading into the distance. A frozen tear glazed her cheek as she reminisced about the old days in the sunny blood covered sands of the north. She was once considered one of the best soldiers the gang had ever seen, her kill count dwarfing that of Boyd "Shooter" Swinton himself, their fearless leader. But as the months ticked by and others began to show far more potential and skill growth she fell into a depression and was unable to continue her current pace of training. Word spread quickly through the ranks that she was at her limit, and "Shooter" being the ever focused strategist offered her an ultimatum. "You can go to the mountains and help the mayor of Morgan defend against the thieving scum of the snow, or you can get the hell out! You might even smarten up and snap out of this crap and maybe re-join us someday." To her the choice was obvious... The only life she knew was as a warrior for the Wabbits, and she wasn't about to go back to being some pool hustling, jobless barfly like she was before being recruited. It was time for a new chapter of life, or at least an honorable path to death... The red buccy that had dropped her off was now far from sight, she turned her attention back to the frosty door handle of the inn, wiped the snot from her upper lip with her tattered sleeve, and opened the door.