Willow Daeldun

Information

Player: Aruk

Character Full Name: Willow Daeldun

Character In-Game Name: Willow

Nickname(s): Fel Light Lantern

Association(s): Undercity. Mostly independent.

Race: Forsaken

Class: Warlock

Age: 34 before death;

Sex: Female

Hair: Black

Eyes: Glowing yellow orbs, tinged with a slight green

Weight: 95 lb.

Height: 5 foot

Alignment: Lawful Evil

Appearance

Anything nobelesque still intact in the wardrobe.

Personality

Willow is in all her complexity, quite a simple machine; Upon her death, and upon her raising she was encrusted in an endless stream of clattering thoughts, too loud and quick to sustain. One usually finds her chattering to herself, whether working or walking. Willow can easily come off as arrogant, and spiteful, which her posture confirms even more; she will never be seen as hunched, or head set low...don't expect her too see her feet anytime soon.

Amongst other ironic things about her, Willow suffers from obsessive-compulsive personality disorder (OCPD). Quite obsessed with the length of each sentence, the time, the way things are done, and how many times they have been checked. It most obviously comes to light when one watches her perform some chemical experiments; The vials must be properly washed for a set amount of time, in a set amount of water with a set temperature; A perfectionist to it's absolute limit on the fringe of bursting. It is one of the few ironic factors adding to the 'Lawful' bit in her mind.

Other: She's quite morbid.

History

The family of Daeldun was nothing important; Simply one of the more better standing families of Lordaeron. Noble's you could say, but that'd be taking it a bit too far now.

Trade was their deal, and it was done well enough to afford a cozy, easy going life. Willow was lucky to be born in such a family; Born and raised in love and patience, she never had the opportunity to see either misery or deprivation like many did at the time, in all of Lordaeron's (former) glory.

On her 18th birthday Willow was sent off into the world, or rather, to a Magi school, where she had spent a good portion of her life there, finally returning home on her 23rd year.

There wasn't much to go on while there; It was a general routine really; Class, study, sleep, eat, study, class, sleep. There were no ups and downs, part dramatic teens in school. The only danger there was, the probability that at least one of them could sling a fireball...if that meant conjuring up a spark...

Now Willow...she was the best of her year...the one so far ahead, it was absolutely ridiculous they kept her there...

At least that's what her little head kept clattering in the back of her mind. Sure, she was gifted, attributed only to her constant glued state to the book and scroll. She barely ate, barely drank...barely spoke. The only hunger she ever felt, was the hunger for knowledge.

"They thought me nothing...I thought myself. The professor's, fools that had no mind to scrabble together a few mindful words, or a lesson to share. They bore their snowy beards for show.

The cane and wand a decoration.

Fools with no backbone...The days of the school were more then boring. I had read the library four times over in search of anything else that may interest me...I'd hoped in vain to find one lesson...one phrasing, one inkling of knowledge I had not gained before...I fell so deep into my clutch of boredom I had actually resorted to poetry. I'm actually thankful in the end...

A spiteful comment is, oh so wonderfully fueled and empowered -more- with a dramatic streak of poetry.

I barely had any communication with any of my peers. Annoying, mindless abominations of life they were, and if they still thread amongst the living, are.

We were previously warned of the dangers of Fell. We were told of the terrors, the affliction's, addictions, twist's and turns of it all. But I read through their lines...oh yes...I read through them...It was power. Power they all wanted, power they all still want...

I find it quite sad...sad that I now have enough power to warp their minds and bodies to oblivion if it pleases me, while they stand and remain powerless..."

Clattering like this continue...and on, and on, and on. That's what Willow does. Clatter. I guess it's a fate thing...the less you speak in life, the more you have to blurp it out in unlife.

All things considered, she would like to...in fact, she'd love it if she could keep her yap shut, but the fact is, Willow -has- to speak. It's a sick need to voice, even in a whisper or a yell, every thought (well not exactly -every-) that comes to mind.

But back to the story...

"Finally, somewhere along my...Twentieth...Twenty first, second, third...? It matters not. In the second decade of my life, I had returned home...equally thirst for knowledge as I was a mere ten years ago.

To my misery I had found a marriage was arranged for me. Only later did I find that man was slightly tolerable...and with each passing day I regreted I had not given at least slight thought to my sister's pleas.

How twisted of life, you see, she was maddened by women. It had brought down so much trouble to our family, my father had sent her to the twisting Nether on more then one occasion for it. But what could I do? Despite all her silly flaws, she was my sister, and helped me with any idiocy, even when it was utterly pointless... I had visited her day in, and day out, in hopes she was well...

She was one of the first to fall to Arthas's pathetic existence.

The man I had married with, and had later dropped the name that was given to me, I had two children with. Up until them, I had conducted my research of Fell behind his back, as I have for many years...once my beloved children came to life, I had a strange streak of moral appear from nowhere and prevent me from any means of harming them...if I had known what will happen to them...I would have killed them then, and there..."

(...)

"...Arthas...I won't try and insult him. He did in fact, as sorry as our fate was, succeed in something most of my kind can only -dream- of. Utter...complete, control...Many envy him. If only to impale him, for thinking of it before they have... However, the Knight had first taken my sister, then my family...and lastly...my children...

...

Had I cared for the fool I married, I couldn't be able to love them more...but to watch them defiled...ravaged, -destroyed- by Arthas and his ghouls...

I had died that day...

But how was I destroyed to see them coming at me, at the rest of those who fought for survival...I died at my children hands...

I only took a twisted, morbid pleasure in the fact it was me in the end...who ended the misery of their existence, later as this husk you see before you.

...I watch them twist and scream in the flames of the Nether. The wail for help I let loose a long time ago. Once again I took to my tomes and basement...I chard, singed and scorched at every last shell I could find...human, ghoul or skelet...all under the flag of 'revenge'.

...I never realized how pointless it was...how stupid...senseless...meaningless...vain, arid, stupid..."

And once again, an endless stream of self criticism, clattering, cursing and anything that can come to mind continued. However this round wouldn't seem to end anytime soon.

To finish the story, Willow is exactly uncaring, arrogant, spiteful and apathetic as she was in life and now in unlife. All that's changed is the amount of words that can spill in one minute.

The unshakable thirst for knowledge, improvement, and hunger for power is still there; And with each passing misery of what she calls a day, Willow simply urges for more and more of it.

To get to it, and to find it, it really doesn't matter what the obstacle.

It's like clockwork really.

(...)