Willow
Sept 4, 2023 21:20:30 GMT -5
Post by Willow on Sept 4, 2023 21:20:30 GMT -5
Willow
Race:
Orc
Age:
19
Physical Description:
Willow is a full-blooded Orc, standing at about 8 feet tall with a muscular build. Reaching from her back and going across her body are faint skin blemishes that look not unlike tiger stripes. They appear to have been tattooed over to make them more symmetrical while maintaining the faint appearance.
Countless scars riddle her body, scar tissue giving them a pinker flesh, highlighting them against her dark skin. On her back, the blemishes stretch from her spine and spread out like fissures to her limbs, which wrap about halfway around her torso and limbs, giving her front a mostly-pristine look, only marred by the many scars across her body.
Her hair is tied into dreads, the sides and back of her head shaved. She has chestnut brown hair, and each of her dreads are capped with an iron cap, preventing them from unraveling.
She is generally found in a half-vest and long pants that don’t restrict movement. While this does expose her more to physical harm, not only is she not adverse to pain, she sees honor in the act. By not taking measures to protect her body if she is unable to block, parry or evade, it lets her own up her mistakes, and can act as a hard lesson and a push to improve.
Around her neck is a necklace with no gems or flairs. Along the string are a number of small white rollers that make up the entirety of the necklace.
As a weapon, Willow uses a greatsword where the blade seems to be a large red shard of crystal. The grip is elegantly made and seems to fuse directly into the crystal. There is no crossguard to speak of.
The Sclera of her eyes are completely black instead of white, and her irises are a piercing red that look like they glow ever so slightly. These, along with her other features make her an intimidating figure.
Personality:
Willow has a very rough exterior, mainly due to her past. With her intimidating frame, weapon of choice and general demeanor, it’s not uncommon for people to dislike or even be fearful of her. While she doesn’t outwardly care, internally it’s not something she likes about herself. She doesn’t have an urge to be liked by people, she simply doesn’t want to be disliked or afraid of.
When talking with her, it can be common to believe she is disinterested in the conversation because she leans more into shorter responses, but in reality, chances are she’s focused on the conversation, but isn’t experienced enough to hold a conversation herself. She is trying to learn, but it’s slow going.
However, if someone were to get to know Willow and spend time with her, it becomes clear that she’s kind, caring and generally a sweet person, even if it’s veiled in her rough outward appearance.
When it comes to emotional attachment, she has an issue. She has a hard time letting herself be herself with others, and that constant oppression of who she is does damage her slightly. There is always that small part of her that wants to be who she is with others, no matter what, but that is overruled by a larger portion that believes that it’s for self-preservation, both physically and mentally.
It takes time for her to reach the point where the smaller portion of her mind wins out, and when it does, it can sometimes be jarring to people. When she’s able to be herself, the caring and sweetness of her stops being wrapped in wolf’s clothing. The rugged exterior makes way for warmth and respect. Very few people have seen this side of her.
History:
Willow's past is littered with trauma and events she would rather forget. She never knew her birth-parents, and for as long as she can remember, she was worked to the bone, training to become a pit fighter. Her ‘caretaker’, Sebastian Henny was a middle aged human male who believed that physical violence was the only way to get a point across.
Willow would be beaten to an inch of her life each and every time she made a mistake or failed in any way, shape or form, and a large portion of her scars are from his punishments. Whenever she stepped out of line, asked something she shouldn’t or did something that Sebastian disliked even a little, the cycle would repeat.
Willow in the beginning wasn’t a pacifist - hell, she’s an Orc, violence is in her blood. However she used to have kindness, respect and a gentle hand when necessary. As the years continued at a snail's pace, the kindness and everything that made Willow, Willow was ripped from her and replaced with what people thought of when they heard the word ‘Orc’.
She was trained for brutality and no mercy. Her race was taken advantage of to truly make an intimidating frame, with her incredibly muscular build, piercing red eyes and the countless scars that riddle her body. When she was an adult, the first thing done was to throw Willow into the ring with the alias of Ak’ka. Being faced with a threat to her safety, she did the only thing she knew how to do: Eliminate the threat.
Willow had to be dragged from the ring to avoid killing her opponent, and when she returned to Sebastian, she received praise for the first time. To her, this relationship between her and Sebastian was normal, and while she didn’t love him like a parental figure, she wanted more of the praise. So she kept training, and each time she was put into the ring, she made a name for herself. Being the ruthless Orc fighter that people wanted to see in the ring earned her the title of ‘Bonegrinder’ for self evident reasons.
And while she would never admit it, and most likely wasn’t even aware of her feelings toward it, she hated the title. She hated the fame in the ring and she hated Sebastian for what he’s crafted her to be. Yet even through all the hardship over the years, she still grips onto the faint whispers of who she was. The soft pleas for Willow to stop what she’s doing - it’s not her. Those whispers are not nearly loud enough for her to be able to listen, but now she can. And against every other part of her screaming against it, she will listen.
One day, after a loss in the ring, she returned to Sebastian beaten and bloodied, and Sebastian seemed to only be seeing red. The cycle threatened to continue, starting with him screaming his head off at her. As she stood there, silent and staring, something in her mind just clicked, and she had enough. She may be beaten, she may be bloodied, but against a human in raw strength? She might as well be in her prime. Willow launched forward, delivering a knee to his stomach, then a kick to send him sprawling on the floor.
As the man wheezed for air, desperately trying to fill his lungs, Willow caught sight of the beauty that is the greatsword above the main doorway. A weapon mainly for decoration, but can very easily be used for practical purposes, the blade - instead of a standard iron double-edged blade - is a large, blood red thick sheet of some sort of crystal. The edge jagged and crystalline in structure sung to her in a way she never knew.
The grip of the blade embedded itself into the crystal, merging and becoming one with the blade. The grip is made beautifully, wrapped in high quality leather and carved from strong wood, engraved with the intricacy of a master woodcarver. Her limited knowledge on other cultures and people didn’t allow her to discern the history behind the engravings, but that was the last thing on her mind.
Pulling the greatsword out from its resting place, she took a second to admire the craftsmanship, before walking over Sebastian still trying to recover. Hateful eyes shone up at her, and those eyes used to make her quiver in fear, but no more. From this point on, she has no caretaker - no master. Not hesitating in the slightest, she lightly placed the weapon tip to his chest, and pushed.
The weapon slid in easily, and not even a groan of pain escaped Sebastian's lips before he died. With no fanfare or care, she removed the blade from his still corpse and gathered up some items.
A backpack, spare clothing, food for a number of days and a hundred gold pieces that she was able to find simply in a pouch in a drawer. Surprisingly enough, she found a scabbard for the weapon, so she slung it on her back and departed the building, glad to never return to such a vile place again. Never again will she be taken advantage of.
Later that night, having spent an hour trying to start a fire and finally getting it lit, she found herself quiet. She rubbed at her face, and found her fingers moist with tears. These weren’t sad, however. She felt relieved, free. Happy.
Freedom is a beautiful thing.