sawed half-way - PDARPG
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Arcus' talisman for PDARPG, her trusty ol' sawed-off shotgun. 627 words, pd57, pdarpgtalisman
The Wyfex picked up the weapon next to her on the scuffed dresser. Its scratched barrel clinked against the golden chains wrapped around her palms. She would've smiled if her face could've shown emotion. It was a happy sound for her, a trustworthy voice of a friend, a gleeful reunion. Arcus lifted the shotgun closer to her chest and held it fast against her upper body. Her head dipped, and an electric sounding sigh filled the room.
The gun was double barreled and quite short, its barrel sawed off right after where the wooden stock ended. Its metal parts had darkened in use, and its red, cherry wood stock stained badly, as its varnish had worn down during the years. It was inaccurate and kicked like a horse, but it was the only thing she could ever trust in her life, consistently. It was reliable, it did not jam, as she made sure that it wouldn't - and if it did, she could use it as a club instead. The range wouldn't change that much either way. She ensured that she would have time to maintain the gun. Arcus had learned from the best - or used blackmail to loosen their tongues. She didn't know much about guns or shotguns in general, but the one she carried, she knew like the back of her hand.
Nowadays, she found it funny how against firearms she had been as a young lass, when her nonexistent eyes were still clear and open to the world around her. She wasn't special in any way, didn't even grow into her body like some of her kind did. Arcus was assembled like so many others like her, and then thrown to the wolves that some called "people". The Slumme was her home for a while, before even its residents turned their backs to her. Violence was not something they took kindly, especially with that one pink-haired menace in such a high status. Did not suit her, Arcus had always thought. Neleredal just did not have the qualities to lead anyone. She reassured that she was one of the people just like anyone else, but everyone knew she had everyone wrapped in her strings. Not for bad reasons, though, but Arcus did not agree to her power at any point, despite her positive influence.
Before Ann-Len and her so-called army of pacifist vigilantes threw Arcus out, she was offered a mean to defend herself - and she took it. The shotgun looked nearly new then, or very well maintained at least. Its barrel was still intact, the only thing touched was its branding - she knew it had been stolen from the actual army on the other side of the divided city, and its badges had been filed off completely. Understandably, though its casings would still leave evidence behind. The young Wyfex did not understand the reasoning behind keeping the barrel as is then, as it just seemed simply stupid to her.
For a long time, especially after her exile, that shotgun was Arcus' only friend and companion. She was vulnerable and afraid of being let down again, so she journeyed alone, making a bad choice after another. She modified the weapon and made it her own, fit to her own purposes. She didn't know much of what she was doing, but as she kept doing it, she got better at it. Some things worked, some didn't, and she had to patch up her mistakes. It was nothing new for her in her life. After a close call because of poor maintenance, she learned how to clean the firearm and keep it in shape properly. It had never even crossed her mind to leave that weapon behind, so it was an obvious choice to pack into her luggage.
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