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Shunned and without direction, Tkoni Threepaw is one of the most pathetic Orcs you might ever meet.



Appearance

If not for the fact that she is quite underweight, Tkoni would be a tall and solidly built woman. Her shoulders are broad and her back strong, though she slouches more often than not. She keeps her coarse hair pulled high into a ponytail, and it is of an unnaturally white color. Her rough, scarred skin is pale, as are her eyes. She generally looks to be in poor health, especially when seen in ghost wolf form. Then, her fur is matted and dull. One of her back legs is twisted, and it is obvious that someone has tried to remove it altogether at least once; the old wounds are kind of gross.

Personality

Tkoni is quiet and sullen. Though she attempts to be pleasant at times, generally she avoids chatty situations when she can. She is very self-critical and loathing, though hides it behind forced pride. She assumes people dislike her until proven otherwise, and more often than not will attempt to chose people off. This resentment toward herself and her spirit is manifested in the above-mentioned ghost wolf form.

She is, above all else, honorable and loyal to the few friends she has. Had she any family, she would be fiercely protective of them. The idea of Shamanism and clan-centric values are very appealing to her, though she doubts either are obtainable.




History

She was born in Nagrand, just before the events leading up to the opening of the Dark Portal. Her childhood was one of chaos and uncertainty, though her clan did their absolute best to keep order and strong tradition. Her clan became very superstitious as a result, reading heavily into signs and omens. Though they were often on the move and preparing for their own trip through the portal, every ritual and rite of passage was accounted for.

When she was of age, around fourteen, Tkoni sought counsel with the clan's Elder Shaman. She wanted nothing more than to follow this same path, one day taking over the coveted position herself. The two had always gotten along well and the Elder had no doubt that she would accomplish this feat. She was sensible and had already proven to be of great assistance during the troubled times they found themselves in.

The Elder set a date for her rite of passage, one that would secure her future with Shamanism and introduce her to the ancestors as Tkoni the Visionseeker. She was beside herself with excitement, doing her absolute best to act older and wiser than she actually felt. That morning, she was up before dawn and took a walk to calm her nerves. As she weaved her way slowly through the tall grasses, movement caught her eye ahead. She strained to see, picking up her pace and craning her neck. She suddenly heard a sickening crunch and stopped short, realizing she had stepped on and killed an unsuspecting sparrow. She had no clue why a sparrow would be out in the darkness, or why the thing would be on the ground. Why didn't it fly out of the way? Horrified, she quickly buried the poor bird and rushed back to the village, convincing herself that it was an accident not worth mentioning.

The rest of the day was disastrous. Nothing went right throughout all of the morning preparations and everyone felt ill-at-ease without knowing why. Younger ones whispered about dark omens, not yet old enough to know better. By late afternoon, when the ritual was the begin, few people wanted to take part. There was only the necessary amounts of song and dance, and few smiles. Tkoni was heartsick about the entire thing, though steeled herself for the trial ahead. It was but one bad day, after all. Once she was a Shaman, it would mean little.

She took her place near the bonfire and exchanged chants with the Elder Shaman. For many long minutes they continued the old ceremony, and Tkoni remembered her lines flawlessly. The Elder smiled to her, warming her heart and washing away any uncertainty. He handed her the spirit sapta, which would allow her to experience her spirit wolf form for the first time. Once through with the rites, she would be able to call the form to her at will, to better aid her in speaking with the ancestors. She swallowed hard, smiled, and drank the sapta.

She would never forget the cries and gasps. Never. They chilled her to the core, shook her very foundation. She jumped at the noise, looking around to see the clan falling away from her as if on cue. The Elder himself sucked in his breath, and she turned to see a look of absolute horror and disgust on his face. "The spirit of suffering, sickness..." He all but spit on her as he said the words, a whisper that somehow was loud enough to be heard by everyone...


Stories

Coming soon.

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