Indigo's Story
Chapter I: Snowfall
By: The Firebending Frog
(In game name HaxusBloodbane)
I do not own Dungeon Boss, it is the property of Big Fish Games and Boss Fight entertainment
Forward:
You asked for it and here it is. Indigo's backstory. A tale of woe. Not really but close.
Every hero has a beginning. If there's anything I've learned it's that it doesn't matter where you start only how you end. I could've easily been the villain, actually in some respects I am the villain. But doing villainous things doesn't necessarily mean anyone is going to end up that way. Here I am a hero but I've not been perfect. In the beginning I'm not sure what I was, maybe it was just a blank slate.
We lived on a mountain range. The ground was coated with snow nine months of the year and cold wind always cut through the trees. My father was a lumberjack. He was built like a bear but was as docile as a deer. My mother would stay at the cabin we lived in and load wood up for the King's soldiers to pack up the mountain to his palace on top of the tallest peak. One may wonder why we put up with the king as he wasn't very kind to us. But our mountain was full of spirits and wild animals who obeyed none. If we were caught outside at night by one we'd never see the light of day again. The king's palace held a fantastic array of mirrors which he would use to trap the spirits to keep us from harm. So long as he protected us we'd be safe.
We still feared the night though. During the Summer when days were longer I'd follow my father into the woods and we'd go as far as the snowy peaks where the sparse trees grew to chop wood and be home by nightfall, in winter we'd travel to closer destinations. There wasn't a day in my life where I spent the night outside. Winter was my favorite time of the year as I was still awake when we returned home. My father would tell me stories about spirits and why they hated us. He'd tell me that spirits were not like the wolves and bats we saw during the day. They were far more fantastical.
When I turned eight I was given my first bow. It was a simple thing but worked effectively. My father was my mentor and my mother would help me sometimes as well. Our mountain was home to too many monsters to allow a girl to go undefended. I learned precision quickly and my father taught me where to shoot a deer or other source of food in order to slow it down. Within days I had perfected the art and was catching food just as god as my father. I learned a lot from my parents in those early years. They were the only two people I had regular contact with for the first fourteen years of my life. They taught me how to read, hunt, cook, fish, and even how carve my own arrows.
It was when I was fourteen that my life changed drastically. It was just another autumn job. My father and I going far north to collect the last of our cut wood from the summer harvest. We trekked our sledge and our fur coats along with us. It had been one of those days where it was just cold enough to make you wear a coat but you regretted it instantly and wanted nothing more than to fall face first in the snow and live in a snowbank for the rest of your life. It had snowed a few days prior and we had been prevented from making the journey but once the storm had cleared we had pristine air with no obstacles. You could see everything for miles. Nothing could have been more beautiful than those Deep green conifers frosted by a glaze of half melted autumn snow.
When we reached the destination we were looking for, seven cut trees stripped of their needles and leaves laying there protected under a tarp made of red fabric, we made quick work of dragging the first tree out. My father knelt down and used a hatchet to hack the tall tree into several sections which we'd then carry to the sledge. The ride down was always easier than the walk up even with two full trees in our custody. The whack of the axe rang through the mountain air like a pickaxe on rocks. A sound I'd only heard sparsely ringing down the mountain from the king's palace.
"It's just miners, Indigo." Had been what my father had said before ruffling my hair and making it a bigger mess than usual. I later found out that they dug for minerals in the depths of the mountains by burrowing into its flesh and taking what they needed. I had always enjoyed the sound. It was like a melody of bird calls but more metallic. Of course my love for the sound ended that same day my father hacked at that log.
It was probably the sticky snow growing heavy and the hacking sound combined that caused it but before I knew it a great rumbling sound echoed through the pristine air and I watched in fascination and horror as the peak of the mountain was coloured gray and a wave of snow rushed down the side of the mountain. If we had run nothing would have changed but we were both too shocked and didn't move an inch until a wall of snow plowed both of us burying my father and I in its Albino wave