Atroxx

she/her

• california or central texas cowboy is eastern texas cowboy so. swampy. mangrove. but it's alternia so it's a tar swamp n it's like, sparsely populated, plenty of locals in huts and shit, torches on the mangroves, hushed whispers and a haunted feeling, and she herself is kind folklore. a legend. an existence spoken in hushed tones and warnings to wanderers
• those who find emselves lost or trespassin often dont come back out bc shell leap outta the shadows n strangle / impale / drown em n steal everything on em, n once theyre either fed to her lusus or tossed in the tar well. theyre never gonna be seen again, dead or alive
• shes far away from the torch lights. if you wander into the dark that's on you. the locals may not be so friendly but you're much safer with them
• she wouldnt hate being feared but she wouldnt necessarily Love It so much as just like. likes the free shit. likes the lack of settlers. makes being a thief easy, for sure. probably likes to psyche out th targets sometimes, circle em for a while, rattle at em, never let herself be seen til its too late.
  
  
• lone torches stuck to tall trees in crowded mangroves
  trickling moonlight peeking through dense foliage on the natural labyrinth below
  lone wooden shacks far younger than their appearance would let on, sinking slowly into the bog, containing the few that know and respect the risks of the landscape
• moonlight barely tickling the boiling tar of fathomless depth. An infirm old lowblood is dragged by his neighbors through the mud. He kicks and screams and flails as the thick earth-slop tugs at his mangled legs. It would've been easier for the men carrying him to bring a mudskip, but those have engines, and mean more than just one person. They're preparing tribute, not a slaughter. See, the Lowblood was helping his former community build a barn to hold what little can be grown in the marsh, when a piece of the frame came down on his legs. There was no point in fixing him. What he was doing, voluntarily or not, was an honor to the community. A mercy to the rest. The three men reach a rickety wooden arch deep in the quiet of the swamp. Far enough out that the torches' glow doesn't reach. They tie the Lowblood to the arch by his wrists, waist deep in the muck, and sling saddle bags of whatever they could comfortably part with over his shoulders. They leave him on the arch, knowing that by next nightfall it'll stand empty once more, taken by her. They'll never see the Lowblood again, but they'll be safe, for a time, until the next march into the dark.
  1) free shit 2) keep the people who try to settle the swamp weak
  
• unlucky fucker who's tribute this ??? Period of Time gets paranoid by every shift in the mud, every bubble in the tar, but is absolutely powerless to do anything
• when theres not a settler issue i think she mostly keeps it up just in case some newbie comes along and thinks they can stop giving her freebies