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Description
Age: 37

Nest: Star

Rank: Citizen

Traits: (C) Standard caeli, (C) Cervine ears, (C) Short straight horns, (R) Gecko tail, (C) Membrane wings, (U) Hair mane

Personality: Helpful - Observant - Hasty - Short-tempered - Headstrong

  Exane is a bounty hunter. All her life, she's been a tracker, a seeker, a finder. Even in mundane contexts, her skills endeared her to the community- new tracts of forest rich in forage, lost doots, the pet that ran into the mountains in a blizzard.
  Like many, when she became old enough to help defend the nest, she picked up a weapon. It turns out, she was skilled at that too.        Naturally, she fell into the role of finding dangerous individuals. It felt right, natural, and she was good at it.
  What she has never been good at, however, is dodging.
  Her experience lay in headon confrontations, or getting the first blow- avoiding the duck and weave of a drawn out fight. Always, the confrontation was on her terms. So, when her quarry- a hulking brute of a cae who seemed to simply be dull and violent- got the drop on *her* before she planned to confront him, her guard was down. She stood no chance in that tiny windmill, battered around like a hespioath in a hurricane.
  The gears and grinding millstones were a constant hazard, just as dangerous as the wall of muscle roaring and swinging at her with all four arms. It was her attempt to escape that did her in- panic setting in and wings inflating, despite the disadvantage and tiny space- pure instinct, but as she scrambled up the stairs it seemed the window at the top might be her salvation.
  The brute grabbed her by the wings.
  Yanked back, she sobbed, breaking, as that little window of sky was torn away. She flailed as she was once again manhandled, limbs starfished in all directions, reaching for something, anything, that would give her leverage.
  Her hand landed on something. In blind panic, she grabbed hold, noticing too late that it was moving, rotating- Pulling back was not an option. Teeth gripped her skin, pressing into muscle, deeper and deeper. The gears turned, slowly, uncaring of the pitiful resistance of flesh.
  Above the sounds of her own screams and metal on bone, the brute laughed and released her- and the leverage she sought tore away, as she fell like wet paper to the floor below.
  It was a miracle she survived. The farmers who owned the windmill, perhaps emboldened by her quarry's hasty and plain escape, ventured in to see the damage to their building, and pulled her from the havoc, acting quickly and bringing her back to their nest. Her recovery was slow- aside from her arm, the battle had been the most brutal one she had ever faced, but when she could walk (slowly, painfully, unbalanced) she made herself useful in search and rescue in the mountains. Her skills were put to good use, and for a while, she stayed in the safety of a nest once more.

  She's learning to use her weapons with fewer hands.

Inventory & Companions: --

Connections:

Description
Age: 37

Nest: Star

Rank: Citizen

Traits: (C) Standard caeli, (C) Cervine ears, (C) Short straight horns, (R) Gecko tail, (C) Membrane wings, (U) Hair mane

Personality: Helpful - Observant - Hasty - Short-tempered - Headstrong

  Exane is a bounty hunter. All her life, she's been a tracker, a seeker, a finder. Even in mundane contexts, her skills endeared her to the community- new tracts of forest rich in forage, lost doots, the pet that ran into the mountains in a blizzard.
  Like many, when she became old enough to help defend the nest, she picked up a weapon. It turns out, she was skilled at that too.        Naturally, she fell into the role of finding dangerous individuals. It felt right, natural, and she was good at it.
  What she has never been good at, however, is dodging.
  Her experience lay in headon confrontations, or getting the first blow- avoiding the duck and weave of a drawn out fight. Always, the confrontation was on her terms. So, when her quarry- a hulking brute of a cae who seemed to simply be dull and violent- got the drop on *her* before she planned to confront him, her guard was down. She stood no chance in that tiny windmill, battered around like a hespioath in a hurricane.
  The gears and grinding millstones were a constant hazard, just as dangerous as the wall of muscle roaring and swinging at her with all four arms. It was her attempt to escape that did her in- panic setting in and wings inflating, despite the disadvantage and tiny space- pure instinct, but as she scrambled up the stairs it seemed the window at the top might be her salvation.
  The brute grabbed her by the wings.
  Yanked back, she sobbed, breaking, as that little window of sky was torn away. She flailed as she was once again manhandled, limbs starfished in all directions, reaching for something, anything, that would give her leverage.
  Her hand landed on something. In blind panic, she grabbed hold, noticing too late that it was moving, rotating- Pulling back was not an option. Teeth gripped her skin, pressing into muscle, deeper and deeper. The gears turned, slowly, uncaring of the pitiful resistance of flesh.
  Above the sounds of her own screams and metal on bone, the brute laughed and released her- and the leverage she sought tore away, as she fell like wet paper to the floor below.
  It was a miracle she survived. The farmers who owned the windmill, perhaps emboldened by her quarry's hasty and plain escape, ventured in to see the damage to their building, and pulled her from the havoc, acting quickly and bringing her back to their nest. Her recovery was slow- aside from her arm, the battle had been the most brutal one she had ever faced, but when she could walk (slowly, painfully, unbalanced) she made herself useful in search and rescue in the mountains. Her skills were put to good use, and for a while, she stayed in the safety of a nest once more.

  She's learning to use her weapons with fewer hands.

Inventory & Companions: --

Connections: