Funded! This project was successfully funded on November 17, 2012.


Mr. Archer is the incredible story of a man cursed by his past, but blessed with enormous opportunity as an Adult.

Mr. Archer 

A story unlike any other, its beginning is dark and its ending is even darker.It is Created by Derek Leach: written by Victor Villa and Erica Vanover: Illustrated by Corrina Di Pirro. With your help we plan to have the first issue of Mr.Archer ready and done by March 2013 with issues 2-5 already in the works. This will allow us to release a new issue every other month. 

No one ever wins, there is only those who survive.
No one ever wins, there is only those who survive.

Mr.Archer is the story of a man cursed by his past but blessed with opportunity as an adult. Alexander was raised by his grandparents after the tragic death of his parents. Alexander gains power of the family business after the death of his beloved grandfather. After rebranding the company he contracts with the United States defense department to begin development of a top secret super-soldier program.

The story begins with a flash back to the past. It's a cold rainy night much like any other night that time of year in Glenley county. The Archer family is returning back from Mr. Archers parents house which they regularly visit. However the drive back home this time changes the lives of the entire Archer family as well the city of Glenley. 

Skipping ahead 20 years Alexander is one year removed from college and has just taken control of Archer Petroleum. After looking at himself and looking at the great wealth and power the company possess he decides to rebrand the company to Archer Industries. Archer Industries begins investing in medical and environmental research, social programs, city infrastructure and begins contracting with world governments and other corporations. However Alexander is flirting with disaster and is putting himself and everyone else at risk.

Every story has its beginning, this one is a tragedy.
Every story has its beginning, this one is a tragedy.
Madness is the keeper of all men, but he is the keeper of madness.
Madness is the keeper of all men, but he is the keeper of madness.
They were created to achieve peace and establish Nirvana. Instead vengeance took them to bring the world on the brink of destruction.
They were created to achieve peace and establish Nirvana. Instead vengeance took them to bring the world on the brink of destruction.

Mr. Archer will be printed in full color with the help of your funding!

like a Roman coin
like a Roman coin

Where your money is taking us

  • The printing of the first issue
  • The production of videos and short animations
  • The production/shipping of all rewards 
  • Any and all fees by Amazon and Kickstarter 
  • Reservation fees at local art festivals 
  • Ad placement
  • Upgrade supplies and hardware/software 


  • October - Mid-November plot development for issues 1-5
  • Mid-November - late December early January script development
  • October- March development of art work 
  • March printing 

Future Issue Scheduling lookout 

  • Issue 2 February - May
  • Issue 3 March - July
  • Issue 4 April - September 
  • Issue 5 May - November 
Now In color!
Now In color!

Some of our past work


(Not Reward Art Work)

Dr. House in sharpie
Dr. House in sharpie
Zombie Dr. House
Zombie Dr. House


This is a published work

The Tale of Mockest

By: Victor Lucian Villa

Waves crashed against the shores of Mockest, as the Leviathan docked into the harbors. The old barque stood proud and majestic as it was one of the last few left in the world.

Curious civilians came to the docks to see who had arrived on the ship besides the usual merchants on board the Leviathan. He was an average man in terms of height but the atmosphere around him rang with wisdom and adventure, youth and wonder. He wore a hooded cloak that glistened with ebony and traces of sea green shades. The cloak covered his matching form-fitting robes, which oddly hung a little loosely from his frame.

As the strange man walked forward, a smile appeared from within his hood. He pulled it back and stood beaming, taking in the salty air, savoring it.

He slung a satchel, which held a series of strange symbols on its front, and walked off the harbor. Following him were the evermore curious civilians, struck with wonder of who this odd stranger was. Eventually one asked, “Who are you, mister?!”

The odd man turned around and with a youthful tone said, “Who am I?! Well, sir, I am Arvin, the magician.”

Another civilian spoke up, “Where is your wand or staff? If you’re a magician surely you have a wand or staff?”

“You are very right, but you see I do have a wand, though it is not what many people would assume one to be,” Arvin raised his gloved hands. Upon the gloves were more bizarre symbols than his satchel.

“These are what you would call my wands. Let me demonstrate them for you all,” Arvin’s eyes began to glow and so did the symbols upon his gloves. With two fingers, Arvin directed flames from his hands into letters that spelled out his name.

With the crowd in awe, he made the flaming letters combine and take the form of a flying-serpent, which flew high and then exploded. He broke the crowd’s mystified expression by saying, “I am here on a journey to grow in fame as a magician and I am here to serve your needs in all things arcane whether it be advice, divination, banishing or beyond. Nothing is too great for me.”

The crowd began asking for services, too many for Arvin to distinguish, yet he did hear one word repetitively, “Coratue, Coratue!” Shouting above the crowd he stated, “First, before I can be of any service, where can I find a place to stay for the week?”


Arvin rented a room at the sea-side inn. After establishing a small shop within his room he went out for a stroll around the town. He always heard that the island of Mockest was a gorgeous place, and wondered, were those rumors true?

The cozy houses and stores sat next to each other upon the spiral roads with the sweet smell of the bakeries and sea filling the air. The lights of the town reflected upon the mirrored waterways surrounding and cutting the land.  The streets were quiet and peaceful, the stars bright in the night sky. Satisfied with the sights and scents of Mockest, he returned to the sea-side inn.

When Arvin returned to his room, he found an old lady waiting by his door. The lady’s back was hunched and she looked worn down. She raised her voice, just enough to be audible, “I’ve been in need of a magician’s help. May I come in?”

“Of course, please,” he opened the door, “come in.”

Hanging up his cloak, Arvin asked what he could do for the old lady as she sat down at the table.

“I am in need of someone who can help alleviate my family’s curse,” crooned the woman.
“Hmm a curse aye,” said Arvin biting on his thumb. “What is the curse?”

“It is a curse placed upon my family after a deal was struck generations ago with a sea-witch named Coratue. The curse went like this ‘Along the ocean shore, my winged fog will roar, and as you fight for your lives, your payment will be realized’. In other words, Coratue will kill us all because of my ancestor’s deal.”

“Who is this Coratue woman? I’ve heard her name more than once today. Plus, why is she a problem if the people of Mockest still live?”

“She is an ancient creature that poses as a woman but is far more sinister than any woman could be. The person who made the deal generations ago was a magician and a foolish one too. He made a deal with her to gain her powers over the sea. The power he desired resulted in not only his death but the future deaths of Mockest. Though he was foolish he realized what he had done and used his new found powers to trap Coratue on an island not too far from here. Though he trapped her, he didn’t defeat her and so she still remains a threat.”

“I see but why am I needed? Were there not any other magicians in your family?”

“No, he was the only one.”

Thinking this over, an arrogant smile appeared on his face. “Okay, sounds simple enough. Though a request like this requires a large sum of money, especially for a man of my talents”

The woman pulled out a heavy bag of gold coins and placed it on the table in front of Arvin. Pleased, Arvin said, “Come tomorrow and I’ll be able to start on the job, but until then I must ask you to leave me alone to prepare for the confrontation of the witch.”

After she left, the night carried on to Arvin’s preparations, which only he and the stars understood.


The dawn’s light bathed the island and announced its coming through the songs of the birds. The moon was still visible in the new day’s sky.

Arvin awoke from his meditative slumber to a knocking at his door. The same awry woman stood before him. Beside her was a tall, ocean-hardened man, with chains wrapped around his forearm.

“Good morning,” said the sleepy Arvin.

The man grumbled under his breath. “Who are you?” said Arvin pointing at the chained man.

The chained man looked with spite in his eyes. “I am Levian,” he turned to the old lady, “and you know I am the only person truly capable of getting rid of the curse grandmother, not some magical nomad!”

“Levian, you really should hold your tongue. I am more powerful than you think. People call me the Dragon Magician due to how potent my fire is. So Levian tell me,” the air around Arvin began to heat and crackle with a magical charge, “do you really doubt I will take your insults?”

Levian stood silent, and the atmosphere settled.

The old lady crooned, “I hope you do forgive him, serpent riders are always hot-headed. Are you ready to begin?”

“I am,” said Arvin grabbing his gloves, cloak and satchel.  


The twisted lady and chained man led Arvin to a run-down shed which rested beside an old fishing spot. The shed stood on rotting wood posts and held a concaved roof. Inside was more disturbing.

The hole in the roof illuminated the dim, dank shed. Along the walls were scrawls of blood, aged and black which led towards the back of the shed. Splintered row boats and shattered skulls littered the ground, forming a nest. The shed itself held a dark light, whether it was from the dull wood reflecting the light or the walls themselves which refracted the light, Arvin could not tell. In the back of the room there was a pile of rotted fish and another skeleton, hanging by chains and small strands of flesh. 

Arvin placed a piece of cloth over his mouth and nose to block out the scent.

Through all this decay and discord, there was one part of the room that held a different mood.  Upon the hanging skeleton was a rather large painting. The scene was of a distant island, surrounded by whirlpools with a tempest foreboding the death of a fisherman.

“Quite a place you have here,” sounded Arvin through his muffling mask.

“This was the place the sea witch made her pact with my family,” spouted the twisted lady.

“It looks like it was a hell of a deal,” he scoffed.

The chained man spoke in a brash voice, “Arrogance in a man is never a good thing, and I will warn you Mr. Magician, it is always their downfall.”

“Well lucky for me I am not a man of arrogance,” said Arvin, pulling back his hood.

Levian stood silent again; then after a few awkward seconds, he said “There is a reason that painting still hangs,” his chains clanging as he pointed.

Arvin replied in a mocking demeanor, “And what would that be?”

Levian’s grandmother spoke, “My ancestor tried to create a portal to get to the island so that someone may finish what he couldn’t; sadly though he ran out of both blood and energy before he could finish. From what I was told years ago, he finished the gate but not the key.”

“I see but I don’t understand the point of this gate unless…. Oh,” Arvin said in an enlightened whisper.

“He was not foolish ma’am. This gate is the only way to get to the island, seeing as the island is surrounded by whirlpools. Power over the seas was useful in trapping her. Am I right?”

The twisted lady nodded. Arvin’s smile could be distinguished from his masked face, “and that is where I come in.” He laughed, delighted by his task. One hand touched the painting as the other drew a tome from his satchel. Words danced from the masked magician, words that held notes of arcane divinity. Referencing the tome sparingly, Arvin created a design upon the painting in glowing symbols. The last words that he spoke caused all the blackened scrawls upon the walls to rush towards his design.

“That was magnificent!” proclaimed Arvin’s witnesses.

He chuckled, “Oh, it was nothing.”

The painting dissolved and only a circle of new symbols remained. “You’ll know when I am done,” and with that Arvin activated the arcane design and vanished into the mystical gateway.


He sailed across the air, rushing over the deep blue mystery. Arvin gazed in awe as he approached the island of the painting. The small abode was surrounded at all side by the vast ocean with typhoons and waves of malice. It held a hermit’s charm, a castle defended by the ocean itself. Then Arvin crashed onto the beach.

He slowly and painfully rose, spitting the sand out from his mouth and dusting himself off. Arvin walked up the island and entered the abode. Inside he was taken by surprise. He found a mummified corpse, surrounded by glowing runes and held down by seaweed chains. Her red hair was wiry and braided with seashells in some areas. Her eyes sunk into her skull and fang-like teeth rested softly upon her shriveled lips. There was a tragic beauty to her.

Breaking from his mystified gaze, Arvin began to notice other details of the abode. Upon the walls were thousands of slug-like creatures that had the wings of dragonflies. They were easily the size of crows. The odor in the room grew stronger the longer Arvin stood there. It was like the musk of standing water, salt, blood, and rotting flesh. Raising his cloth over his nose, Arvin began his work.

He pulled on his gloves and hood, beginning to focus his mind. His eyes began to glow with a dancing of scarlet and indigo shades, the runes upon his gloves glowing as well. Heat shifted the air around him and flames burst before his raised hands; engulfing the mummy, and eradicating the musk. As the flames simmered, Arvin’s overconfident smile stretched across his face.

After the flames died, Arvin stood shocked at the sight of everything destroyed save the mummy, whose runic ring seemed to divert the flames. Dragon-like flames burned white upon the area in front of Arvin's hands, and still the mummy sat there. Arvin noticed one odd difference though; the runes that surrounded the mummy had grown in their illumination.

Yet he knew his flames could break even the greatest of shields so he continued until the runes were as bright as his flames, each rippling with heat. He had never witnessed such a powerful arcane shield. Arvin continued until the light of the runes was unbearable; he continued until the very room began to burn with the heat of a dragon's mind.

Realizing for the first time, defeat, Arvin fled the abode. The building was engulfed by hell's lake as the runes grew even hotter. In the shadow of the flames sat the mummy, with the light of the runes casting brighter and higher than the flames, touching the clouds.


The flames could be seen from Mockest, alerting the old twisted lady and her grandson of Arvin's completed task. “Go get him, Levian,” ordered the old lady.


Arvin saw a great serpent swimming towards the burning island. Upon its head stood a man with a chain harnessed within the serpent’s mouth. As they drew nearer Arvin made out the hardened face of the serpent rider Levian. 

"Looks like you actually could do the job Mr. Magician! That's a shame," He said stroking his serpent's scaled face. "Quetatal here was meant to be the being to truly destroy the witch. I trained for years with her to be able to trap and kill Coratue," he said with a hidden disappointment. "Get on; I'll take you back to Mockest."

Arvin climbed onto the serpent's head and looked back into the towering flames. He saw a shadowy figure standing within them. Confused, he looked back into the clouds and found the runes gone from them. Horror filled his heart as he looked back into the flames and saw no shadow there. The fear of what he had done kept his tongue. The heavens cried that night, flooding the streets of Mockest and mourning the coming dawn.


Arvin awoke before the sunrise and began to pack his things; shame veiled him and his senses as he was not aware of a sinister magic in the air.

As the sun rose with streams of scarlet light, the birds were silent, the waves still and the air smelled of the mummy’s abode. Arvin arrived at the docks to see a black fog approaching the island of Mockest. The sailors and fisherman ran inland, demise in their eyes. As he stood there Arvin saw the fog for what it truly was, swarms of the creatures plastered upon the walls of Coratue’s abode.

He waited for the fog, carelessly awaiting the hell he had unleashed. His eyes began to glow and with hood and masking cloth, Arvin stood there in his arrogance and mystical charm, embodying the might of a true magician.

As the fog drew closer, Arvin began to focus his mind more, causing the water around him to boil. As he levitated towards the incoming fog, he saw Quetatal and Levian dashing towards the fog of wings from the coast. Levian’s loud laughter of pride and desire echoed over the wing flaps and put a smile on Arvin’s face. The serpent and rider vanished within the fog, still his laugh echoing.

The fog shifted and spread thinner. In the clearing Arvin was amazed as Levian and Quetatal fought the winged slugs, Quetatal spouting water streams and Levian swinging a chain from his free hand. As the couple fought, a small figure with glowing eyes raised into the air. This caught Levian’s attention and a new laughter came from him as he wrapped his chain around it and Quetatal swallowed the figure. Triumphant cries came from Levian, shouting out that he was the killer of Coratue.

Arvin saw the error of his comment when an explosion of fire and entrails spread the black fog even more. Crashing into the water was the corpse of Quetatal, with her body shredded from her jaw down half way of what Arvin could see. The waters were sanguine as Coratue raised from them, her eyes glowing sea-green. Her hair was luscious and vibrant with shifting shades of red, her skin covered in barnacles and seaweed. Coral and fish hung from her figure as entrails and other pieces of flesh fell from her into the water.

She reached into the bloodied water and grabbed the bobbing Levian. Arvin stood in horror as he watched her electrocute Levian. Coratue then threw Levian's smoldering body to the shore of Mockest. Hurrying to his side, Arvin looked over the wounds of Levian. He let out a prideful whisper, “I was meant to kill her.” He looked to Arvin and pushed him away as Arvin was trying to tying to treat his wounds. “I’ll be fine let me rest for a little while.” His eyes closed. Arvin felt no pulse.

Arvin turned to the fog, which had recollected, and began to levitate towards it again. Raising his arms, Arvin released the fury of Helios upon the swarm and only ash fell upon the sanguine waters. Yet the winged fog continued to move forward, a behemoth compared to Arvin. His flames a mere candle in their void. As the fog cast overhead, he felt a powerful push, causing him to go soaring through the air and to crash into a shop.

Fighting off his blackening vision, Arvin rose attacking the swarm and their leader, which together had blotted out the sun overhead. Columns of fire and electricity left his hands, yet it did nothing to halt the flying apocalypse. Guilt powered his magic as he drew everything he could, forming an enormous ball of electricity and flames, raw magic and dragon talent. Aimed at the sea-witch, the explosion blew a giant hole in the swarm, from which ash rained. This was only a minor setback as the swarm recollected, and though smaller, still was of significant size and within the swarm Coratue still stood. Defeat once again encumbered his body, Arvin could do no more. He was exhausted and drained, and for the second time in his life the Dragon Magician tasted defeat.

Arvin's body began to succumb to this realization and the physical injuries caused by the force Coratue attacked him with. As he panted on the sands of Mockest, Coratue stood before him; raising him to her eye level she whispered only one thing, one phrase that cut deeply into his soul, “Thank you.”

She dropped him and continued forward towards the populated masses of Mockest. Arvin whimpered softly as he listened to the screams of the massacred, feeling each one bleed his heart. He watched in guilty terror as more winged-slugs flew in overhead and as horrid tentacle-bearing creatures climbed out the ocean to aid in Coratue’s blood-festival. Arvin finally gave into the engulfing darkness and went unconscious.


The sun was setting when Arvin awoke. The smell of sea-salt, crow-worthy flesh and iron-rich blood flooded his nose. His hood and mask were pulled over his face as fresh tears came from his green eyes. He went to the docks and took a small ship, setting sail north through the sanguine waters, carrying the souls of Mockest on board with him.

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All members involved in the creation and production of Mr. Archer are seniors in high school; since we're students not nearly as much time can be dedicated to the comic but we do meet twice a week to discuss the direction of the script and also art work.

All members involved in the creation of Mr. Archer are in AP/ Honor classes, two members are in the top 10 percentile of the class ranking.Our head artist is ranked number one overall and our co writer/creative head is ranked fifth overall in the senior class rankings, and have received honor role ever semester of every year. All members are responsible, organized, highly trustful and dedicated to putting their best work into the comic.


Our creative head is in AP Literature/composition. He is also a student ambassador, captain of the golf team and co founder of the hiking club, involved in immigration out reach group and has had articles published in the local newspaper.

Our head writer is in AP Literature/composition. He is also a member of the Tucson amateur astronomy group and also produces pieces and edits for the school magazine

Our lead artist is in AP art and AP Literature/composition. She is a tae kwon do black belt a member of the national honor society, national art honor society, student council, yearbook and is also a student ambassador.

Our co writer/creative head is in AP Literature/composition and also yearbook.


Our head artist works at the University of Arizona as well as our co creative head,our head writer works at a local news-station and publishes articles on their website and our creative head also works at a local news-station.


Includes law firms, construction firms, mining firms, health centers, non profits, museums, the college of science at the University of Arizona and the Diocese of Tucson.

So trust us, we know what we're doing!


Have a question? If the info above doesn't help, you can ask the project creator directly.

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