Partager
Histoire MidReal
Exile's Hunt: The Bounty of Deadlake
Scénario :Mute a once Tribe member of the llama, in Mexico Desert, as mute was born the Tribe leader though he was a weak child because his muted focused him to be Banishment from the Tribe, after months Surviving the mexican desert he managed to cross the American border with the help of Valerie mute stepmother Valerie was as known as shedeath to a hidden State of Texas Simply known as deadlake fully with Hispanic citizen, after year mute grew up in deadlake he became a bounty hunter, but one of his bounty had him Chasin men Simply known as Jake a well known biker leader,
Créer ma version de cette histoire
Mute (Silas) Banished tribal leader turned bounty hunter, protagonist, male
1man,black hair,long ponytail,muscular build,dark brown leather armor,boots,fingerless gloves.
Jake (The Biker King) Infamous biker leader and Mute's target, antagonist, male
1man,black leather jacket,black t-shirt,blue jeans,black biker boots,muscular,short black hair,rugged face,thick black beard
Valerie (Shedeath) Mute's stepmother and guide to Deadlake, side protagonist, female
1woman,shoulder-length black hair,medium build,dark red robes,leather belt
The first time I killed a man, I was sixteen.
He was a member of a rival tribe, and he’d been caught on our territory.
I was one of the warriors chosen to execute him.
We took him out into the desert, stripped him naked, and tied him to a cactus.
He was already half dead from dehydration, but we made him wait for the end.
I was the last in line to shoot him with my bow and arrow.
I remember how his eyes widened when he saw me notch the arrow and pull back the string.
He knew what was coming.
He knew he was going to die.
And then I let go of the string, and the arrow flew through the air and pierced his heart.
His eyes went wide with shock, and then he slumped over and died.
That was the first time I killed a man, but it wasn’t the last.
Now, I stand in the dimly lit saloon of Deadlake, the air thick with smoke and tension.
The patrons are a mix of outlaws, drifters, and lost souls.
I scan the room, my eyes locking onto a burly man with a snake tattoo coiled around his neck—Jake's right-hand man.
I move silently, my steps unnoticed until I slam the man's head onto the bar with a force that makes the bottles rattle.
The room goes silent.
All eyes turn toward us, but I don't care.
My eyes burn with intensity as I scribble a note on a napkin and shove it in front of him.
"Where is Jake?" it reads.
The man spits blood, his eyes defiant for a moment before he realizes who he's dealing with.
He grunts and wipes his mouth with the back of his hand.
"You're making a big mistake," he snarls.
I press harder, my grip on his head tightening.
His bravado falters.
"Alright, alright," he gasps. "He's holed up at the old mill outside town."
I release him and step back, watching as he slumps against the bar, clutching his bleeding forehead.
The room remains silent as I turn and walk out, determination etched on my face.
Outside, Valerie waits by our horses.
Her eyes reflect concern and readiness for the hunt ahead.
"Did you get what we need?" she asks, her voice steady but laced with worry.
I nod, pointing towards the direction of the old mill.
She mounts her horse gracefully, her movements fluid and practiced.
I follow suit, swinging myself onto my horse's back.
"We need to be careful," she says as we ride out of town. "Jake's not going to go down without a fight."
I nod again, knowing she's right.
Jake is infamous for a reason; he's ruthless and cunning.
The ride to the old mill is tense but quiet.
The landscape around us is barren and unforgiving, much like my past.
As we approach the mill, I signal for Valerie to stop.
We dismount and tie our horses to a nearby tree.
The mill stands ominously against the darkening sky, its windows shattered and walls covered in graffiti.
Valerie draws her gun, checking the chamber before nodding at me.
I pull out my knife, feeling its familiar weight in my hand.
We move silently towards the entrance, every sense heightened.
Inside, the mill is dark and musty.
The floorboards creak under our weight as we make our way through the shadows.
Suddenly, a noise from above catches our attention.
We freeze, listening intently.
A figure appears at the top of the stairs—Jake himself, flanked by two armed men.
"Well, well," Jake sneers. "If it isn't Mute and Shedeath."
Valerie raises her gun, aiming directly at Jake's head.
But before she can fire, one of Jake's men lunges at her from behind.
