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Daichi Windwalker
Player: KageAcuma

Character Full Name: Daichi Windwalker

Character In-Game Name: Daichi

Nickname(s): Windwalker

Association(s): Horde, Deadeye Watchers

Race: Orc

Class: Blademaster

Age: 26

Sex: Male

Hair: Black. It's long, and unlike the model shown in-game, his hair covers his head and trails down his back. He keeps it in a ponytail, unwilling to cut it.

Eyes: Only his right eye has a bright blue color. His other eye is scarred and dull, an old war wound.

Weight: He's very lean, having a more slender shape, while at the same time having dense muscles, increasing his weight and causing him to be heavier then he looks. 350 lbs.

Height: 6'6"


Usual Garments/Armor: On his head he wears a white wolf mask. He cleans it daily, believing this an action to respect his ancetors. He has two plated wrist guards, using them for defence when he needs to. The only shirt he wears is a tabard of the Deadeye watchers, keeping true to the belief that a Blademaster has no need for armor.


Due to his body type, he has a form of self-loathing, wishing that he could simply look like the other Orcs in his clan, but he seems to have gotten mostly over it after his success at his Om'riggor. After the success, his anger towards himself and others was almost diminished. He felt, and still feels, accomplished. This gives him a great sense of pride and honor, causing him to walk around with his shoulders square, his posture upright, and his jaw set. It is rare to see him angry now, and will at times try to calm another.

For his allies he offers respect and aid on the battlefield, and would willingly die for anyone of the Horde. Almost the opposite, his foes have his respect for choosing to fight him. Anyone willing to fight him has his uttermost respect. Daichi will never use cheap shots. But if he fights you on a battlefield, he wil lfight to kill. Leaving another to live after besting them is an insult.

Now much older and battle hardend Daichi has found himself in a silent state. He wil talk to those who talk to him, but it is rare for him to talk to another. He carries himself with pride still, however. Despite all he's been through, Daichi remains kind to the people he cares for, he just has a hard time talking to them.


(An excerpt from his birth)

Love was hard in the camps. Being in nothing but cages, it was hard to be discrete. But love always finds a way. Karg and his future life mate found their own way. Meeting in secrete while out to work. Sneaking away from the guards while their backs were turned. Karg was caught twice, beaten nearly to death only because they thought he was trying to steal food. But they enjoyed what they could in such a dark life. But all was not well.

Karg's future life mate was pregnant. Such things in a camp where scarce and frightening. How could she care for this child in a cage? She was going to drown the child as soon as it was born. She was able to hide both the pregnancy, for there was no large lump, and the birth, keeping herself quite. Some of her cellmates helped with the birth as well. But there was something wrong. The baby was small, seemingly dead. But that relieved Karg's future wife. She didn't want it to survive. But then it started to cry. It was a beautiful cry, that was quickly shushed by the mother, holding her baby close.

"Daichi.." The mother held her baby closer, kissing the forehead of the child. The years would be rough, especially with trying to hide the child, but they would try.
Daichi was born in a filthy cage, surrounded by starvation and death, his blue eyes glimmering with hope.

(Years pass. The child is only 5 and has quite a peaceful life up until then. His father and mother had started to get him to work as soon as he could walk, making him seem like another orc that was captured. But his size posed a problem, he wasn't strong enough to do much of the manual labor needed. But the child pushed on, wanting to bring honor to his family. He has not spoken sense the day he was born, having a tendency to listen intently, and having nothing to say. His clan had been put into an internment camp before his birth, and he had been living there ever sense until Thrall frees them seven years later.)

"Daichi!" The child looks over his shoulder at his mother. He had been trying to carry more of the split log's his father had cut, and ended up collapsing from the weight. His mother rushes over to him, her hair braided in the back. "You know you can't carry that much!" She pushes some of the chopped wood off and helps him up. He doesn't say anything, simply nodding his head. The meaning was clear, however. He understood what she was saying, but at the same time, he wanted to prove how strong he was. He stood as tall as he could, and started to pick up the wood, a determined look in his eyes. His mother sighed and let him be, going to find Karg to talk to him. Daichi didn't mind, he knew he was small and that his father would talk to him at some point.

He walked on, taking the wood to the camps wood stack. Winter was close, and Daichi had learned the hard way that his kind was not for the snow. His tiny muscles strained as he got closer to the pile, and he figured that he was going to drop them again. But this time he didn't. He made it the last few steps and dropped the fuel with the others. He heaved and panted; somewhat surprised he was able to bring it to the pile for once. All the other times he would fail ten feet or so from it, collapsing and panting while the other children walked by, picking up his mess and tossing the wood in said stack, mumbling lines better left unsaid.

The children were there again. They seemed to enjoy Daichi's failure; it was one of the few entertainments in the camps. But Daichi’s success angered them. They got up from where they were sitting and walked to him. Daichi watched the boys get closer, all of them being bigger and, because of that in his eyes, stronger than him. The eldest boy, being the pack leader stood in front of him, a dark look in his eyes.

"Pick the wood up and fail." The child's voice was surprisingly rough for only being six or seven. And the hatred in his eyes was somewhat frightening to Daichi, as if the bully himself was nothing more than a Fel Orc. But he stood his ground, standing strait and glaring back into the child’s eyes. Daichi had no need for words, so he remained quiet. But this angered the bully, and he lashed out, his fist connecting to Daichi’s face, the pure strength and hatred sending his small body spiraling. He landed with a thud, a bruise on his cheek and spitting up a small amount of blood. But he stood up anyway, still defiant.

"I said to pick up the wood and fail!" The other Orc children there growled in unison and agreement. But Daichi stood. The numbers didn't scare him. The fact that he was smaller and, still in his eyes, weaker than them didn't scare him. Even the burning hatred in these children’s eyes, not towards Daichi, but to the fact that they are nothing more then slaves to the humans, that there was no hope here, and the one source of entertainment was saying no did not scare him. He stood tall, determined to take any beating they gave him. And they did. They took the small child and beat him, all their anger going out into growls and roars of anguish, eventually turning into tears of hatred and self-loathing. They stopped, Daichi bruised and battered, his shoulder broken and countless cuts forming on his body, still stood. He understood the anger the others had, despite only being five.

The children left him, the eldest one looking at Daichi, his eyes only betraying for a second the sorrow he had on what he did. But he turns before Daichi can look deeper, and let him to himself. Daichi let out a sigh, walking back to his mother and fathers hut, both of them there and waiting to talk to him, only to be shocked and angered at his appearance.

"Who did this to you!?" Karg was the first to speak, holding onto his some somewhat angrily. Daichi, being himself, didn't answer, but instead looked up at his father, no fear in his eyes, even though his father’s grip on his broken arm hurt. His mother eventually pushed the raging father to the side, tending to his wounds. "You know he doesn't speak.." She looks concerned, dabbing his face with a damp cloth. Karg growls, looking out of the doorway. "The dam child should. It would make his life so much easier."

"Can I get stronger?" Daichi spoke, his voice clear and calm. His parents were shocked. They were beginning to think him dumb. But now he spoke, finally having something to say, something to ask. His father rushed to him, kneeling beside his mother, his eyes still filled with rage. "Who did this to you?" Daichi simply shook his head. "Can I get stronger?"

The first words he spoke in his entire life were just that one statement. He did not speak another word to his father, save for asking the same question, despite Karg's constant drilling and search for information on who beat his son. But his rage did go down. Daichi’s calm demeanor seemed to have calmed his father, and eventually he told his son that he would teach him how to get stronger.

Daichi never saw those boys again, and Karg continued to train him, giving him small weights and having Daichi tie them onto his arms. He spent the time walking around with these weights, eventually tying more of them on as he slowly got stronger. It was an odd method, but with all the movement he had to do, it worked. As he aged, he grew taller, but never filled out. The more he grew, the more feminine he looked, and it angered him. He believed it brought dishonor onto his family and clan to not look like the males should, despite his father's and mother's praise on what he would do.

He was ten when Thrall came, freeing him and his parents. He had no clue what was going on. One day he went home and his family had packed very little of their supplies. When he asked what was going on, he was told to grab anything important and run with them, but never to leave them. And so the boy grabbed a small tome. He didn't know what it was, but he had found it one day outside. He and his family ran. they ran and ran, fleeing with the other orcs to the wild. It was a year or two before they left for the ships. They got onto their ship, a small cargo one, and set sail to Kalimdor. It took quite some time to get their, Diachi using what ever he could as weights to train. He also found a love for fishing, having found one of the poles and used it, fishing up food for the orcs who where traveling with him. While this filled him with a small amount of pride, he still hated how he looked, unwilling to accept much of anything.

Diachi was twelve when they finally made it to the new land. He heard that some trolls came with them and went to the Echo Isles, settling there as they themselves went to what is now Durotar. He and his family went and lived in peace for some years, not knowing of the battle of the Centaur. All the while, Diachi had started to use a blade. He heard of the great city Orgrimmar, but he and his parents never left for it. They were quite happy with the farmland they had started and had been living on.

But not all was well. Karg had left when he was eighteen, going to southern Ashenvale. While he was away, Daichi's mother started to teach the child how to weild a blade. It was a small one, having been picked up from the boat. But she taught him how to weild it none the less. But he developed a curious fighting style, using the blade one-handed mostly in a reverse grip, rarely thrusting and simply going about with his reversed hand slashes. They worked for him, so it wasn't a concern.

(An exerpt from Diachi's Om'riggor)

"I know you can do it.." She cooed, patting the side of her son's face. He was taller then her now, still lanky, but taller. She was so proud. Her son had been born a runt, and was offered to not have to take the task to spare him from the embarrassment of failure, but he wanted to take it none the less. The Om'riggor was for him to go out and kill a boar. Where this would seem simple, he only had a sword, and the boars where much more dangerous then one would think. Many viewed that Diachi shouldn't take it simply because he was a runt.

Diachi nods, wrapping his arms around her and hugging her close. He wanted to prove to everyone, including himself, that he can be a Grunt, that he can bring honor to his family. He didn't say anything, he hasn't really said much in his life. He's never found a reason to speak and thus stood in silence, holding onto his mother. Diachi eventually lets her go, a weak smile on his face as he turns to leave, his shoulders square and his head held high.

The Talbuk was once the original animal to be hunted, but because there where no natural Talbuck in the area, the Boar became the next target. Diachi was given a small satchel of food and a water skin, and a single sword. It was small and worn, but the blade was otherwise keen and the edge glinted in the light. He flipped the sword around in his usual way, pressing the flat of the blade against his forearm. He left without a word, simply bowing his head to the Elder and went on the hunt.

Where there was usually many boars out in the day, today there wasn't. It was as if someone had taken all the boars and rounded them up far away. Daichi was rather annoyed, searching seemingly endlessly for a boar he wasn't bound to find. He eventually gave up, sitting down on a rock with his dace in his hands. He was terrified of failing. He wanted to bring honor to his family more then anything, to show that he wasn't a mistake.

He sat there for some time, a small flicker of rage building in the young orc. He was getting angrier and angrier until he saw something. He saw a small shape in between his fingers that were covering his arms. Hopeful, he move the hands only to see a small boar.

"...." Diachi just stared, as did the boar. "........." Diachi continued to stare at the boar, a small look of blood lust forming in his eyes as the boar starts to back away. It was no idiot. Diachi stood, inching close and closer to the boar, it taking a step away for each step Diachi took forward. Eventually they both froze, Diachi still staring at the boar. Then the chase started. The boar was the first to run, Diachi right behind it. They ran for quite some time, Diachi swearing at the boar to just hold still before the boar suddenly stopped.

"Finally!" He pulls out the sword, ready to kill the thing before he noticed something. The boar was looking ahead. The young orc followed the boars line of sight until he saw it too. There was two harpies. But the odd thing was there was a young orc sitting and crying, another boar dead in front of her. Diachi's eyes instantly went wide, a small flicker of anger forming as he stared at the harpies. They where teasing the young girl, cutting up the boar and boasting about how they where going to do the same to the child. Diachi's rage took over him, causing him to launch forward, roaring angrily.

The first harpy noticed him right away, and charged forward without a second thought, viewing the lanky orc as a minor threat. She was wrong. Right as soon as they met, Diachi's reactions kicked in. The next thing he knew, he was holding his blade out to the side, blood dripping down the blade. The harpy had fallen, dead, a large cut extending from side to side on it's waist. The second harpy wasted no time, and screeched at him, charging angrily. He figured the stupid bird would do the same as the other, but quickly found out that that wasn't the case. It screeched again, raking its claws over Daichi’s face, and if it wasn't for him jumping away, he would have some pretty nasty scars. He roared at the Harpy, his rage setting in again as he slashed outwards, randomly, his anger having a hold of him.

The world had gone black at that point for him, the rage pushing his consciousness down. He woke up, still standing, blood dripping from his arms, a mangled harpy corpse at his feet. He scoffed. Good riddance. But then he heard the young girl's cries. He sheathed his blade, kneeling over beside her.

"You alright?" His voice was sincere, caring even. But the girl pushed herself farther from him, eyes filled with fear. She had watched what he had done, and where as she had seen something like this before, it was never this close. But she did calm down once the boar walked over to her. It became apparent to Daichi that this boar led him there, and that he had indeed saved the girls life. When the girl was calm enough, he picked her up in his arms and walked back to his clan.

Daichi returned, covered in blood, the little girl in his arms. The entire clan started to whisper amongst one another, no one knew what had happened. Some say he killed the girl’s parents, others say that the blood was all his and he had barely made it back to the village. But he ignored the comments, taking the girl to the elder.

"What’s this?" The old man was amused, clearly surprised on what Daichi was holding. Daichi remained himself, setting the girl down, who was sane enough by then to explain what had happened. The elder nods his head, looking to Daichi. "You where to kill a boar. That was all. But instead you come back covered in blood from the harpies, a little girl in your arms, and a boar walking behind you." The elder shook his head, as if disappointed. Daichi held firm, however. He was proud on what he did, perhaps not in the way it was done, but proud none the less.

"You've done well." The elder pat Daichi on the shoulder before looking out to the clan, who had heard what had happened. "Daichi has proven himself a warrior! Let him from this day on be known as Backblade!" The clan cheered, hands raised up high. Daichi himself was taken aback. He thought he had failed, and yet here he was, being proclaimed a grunt. He smiled before taking off. He needed to tell his mother. He got home, bursting through the cloth that was acting as a door when he saw his mother. She was standing beside a large man sitting in a chair. As he inched closer, he realized who it was. He rushed over, kneeling in front of his father.

The man was blind. His eyes had been cut out, as Daichi learned later, by a Night Elf sentry. But Karg remained strong none the less. He pointed his face to where he heard his son kneeling, reaching out with a hand to find him. Daichi took his hand, placing it on his cheek.

"Oh? Smooth as a babies bottom. This your son, Daichi?" He was joking, trying to lighten the mood. It worked somewhat, all three of them laughed. But as Karg cupped his sons face, a small stirring of pride formed in him. "You did it didn't you." Daichi simply nodded, and if his father still had his tear ducts, he would be crying.

Daichi spent two years at home, helping to care for his father. It was laborious, Karg's blindness seeming to dishearten the large Orc. But as time went by, life was easier. The warrior wouldn't be put down by some purple skinned coward. By the end of the two years he spent home, Karg was back to his old self, still blind, but seemingly stronger because of it. It came time for Daichi to say goodbye however. He had a new purpose by then. He had learned of the Blademasters some time ago, but as his father talked of them during the first year of him being home, Daichi knew that he would become one of, if not, the best.

Daichi left, the small worn sword in hand and wearing the broken armor of his father, looking for his own Blademaster to teach him. And it wasn't long until he found one. Kis'gal. For the next few years of his life he was devoted to the training Kisgal put him through. In the end, he was able to fight his master.

Kisgal enters the ring, her blade lifted in one hand. She looks across the ring to see her student, all grown up, ready to fight her for his title. She remains wordless, and nods to the spectators. Daichi enters himself, the menacing red blade remaining on his back as he keeps his eyes on his master. He pulls the blade off, holding it in his non-dominant hand, bowing his head out of respect. Kisgal shakes her head and begins to walk forward, ever so slowly. "Tradition can wait. We're here to see if you can fight like a blademaster, not to see how well you can kiss my ass. The weaker one strikes first, so hit me!"

Daichi frowns at the words, but knows better then to turn down a first strike. He dashes forward, fast as the wind could carry him as he brings his blade aloft, slashing with a quick strike to her chest. Kisgal quickly parries the strike, bringing it down to her left as she steps right and to the side to get out of range of the blade. She kicks out as his knee! Daichi quickly jumps back, his nimble figure showing his work in his own agility. His face remains calm, his blue eyes staring at his master from behind the wolf mask, quickly moving forward with a one handed slice, spinning on his foot to add more speed at the price of exposing his shoulder.

The blademaster drops down low and rolls to the side, entirely avoiding the blow. She comes up on his side instead, slashing upwards, trying to open up his ribs. The boy grins slightly, leaning away to lessen the wound. He didn't expect her to be so fast, despite her title. He jumps back, his tabard sliced open to expose bare flesh, a shallow wound trailing up. He closes his eyes for a second, holding the wound as slowly another him forms. For a brief second they both charge, intertwining with each other in an effort to confuse Kisgal before he slashes down once more, both hands gripping his blade. By then the fake would be known, and fade away.

Kisgal would comment, if she wasn't in a high-speed duel. She rolls backwards again, relying on her agility to keep herself alive. She tumbles, lands upright and on her feet, and charges forward, slashing down at the dominant hand. Daichi brings his blade up, catching it on the back side of his blade, holding himself there before pushing out, using some of his natural strength to push her away before launching a boot to her chest after it. Kisgal the Awesome takes the boot to the chest, using her legs to send herself backwards even farther and to maintain control in the shot. She swipes at his leg with his blade as she goes flying away from said kick. Daichi momentarily looses his grip on his blade, his left hand slipping off before he spins, moving with the blade long enough to get his grip back, switching the hilt into his right. He dashes forward once again, bringing the blade seemingly across her chest before switching the angle, going strait down.

Kisgal the Excellent feels the blade come down on her chest, slicing right under her neck in a very shallow cut. She pulls back to avoid more damage, but charges back in with ferocity, slicing at his wrists. Daichi smiles at the first cut, shallow as it may be, it showed improvement. But the smile fades as he feels cold steel across his wrists. He jumps back, much like before, clenching and un-clenching the hands one after another, keeping a steady grip on his blade, dashing back into the fray once more, bringing the blade strait up in a long arc. The woman goes for a simple maneuver, parrying the blade to the side, still one-handed, and uses her other fist to punch at his jaw.

Daichi takes a fist to the face, his head turning with the punch. But he keeps turning, and turning, eventually becoming a flurry of blades, spinning in place at high speed. Green and Sexy begins to parry each strike at high speeds, matching the strikes. After a few parries, she leaps high into the air to slice downwards at his shoulder from above, trying to avoid the whirlwind entirely. He continues his spin, halfway around when she jumped. He turns still, before noticing she was gone. He looks up quickly, seeing her in the air and bringing her blade down before he pulls his own blade up, catching the sharp steel on his own, somewhat buckling below the blow. But his feet set into the ground, allowing him to use his strength once again to push her back and off.

Kisgal lands on her feet and ducks low, rearing her blade back to free it from the strike. Before he can make a move, she rolls between his legs and pops up behind him. She grabs his hair and pulls, bringing the blade to his neck with incredible, unearthly speed. She pulls hard on his hair and growls at him, bringing the blade up to quickly flip the wolf mask off his head. The mask fly's away, the wolf-face landing in the sand, staring up at the ceiling with empty eyes. Daichi starts to growl himself, his head back, his neck exposed. His shining blue eyes dart over his shoulder to see his master, his hand tight on his blade as he continues to scan for a way out of this. He finds none however.

The woman lifts her blade away and places it on her back, in its sheath. "You are defeated, but it was not all for nothing. Wait here."

She walks to her entrance, and disappears in the shadows. The pup brings a hand to his throat, rubbing it gently as he grips his sword tighter. But he relax's his grip, sheathing the blade once more in the chain loops on his back. he makes no move to retrieve his wolf mask. His hands and side are still bleeding.

Kisgal returns, and kneels before her student. She calls out to the arena, a sashimono presented before him in her arms. "You are now a blademaster, Daichi Windwalker. Do your people proud."

He takes the Sashimono, a small smile forming on his face before he holds it aloft, the banner displaying the symbol of the horde. Kisgal rises and bows before her former student, and then exits. No more words are needed. Daichi pulls on the Sashimono, walking to retreive his mask. The runt places the white wolf once more on his face and exits a Bladeamster.

After the fight he continued his duty as a Blademaster with the Deadeye Watcher's during their time in Ashenvale and Felwood. In both cases his logic was challanged, and in both he had lost a part of himself. The countless fights with the Elves and the whisperings of the Dreadlord in his head only ruined what little sense of justice he had left. His mind broken and his spirit shattered, he chose to continue his training of his own student, Rekka. He continued with her training, showing her almost everything he knew until one day he too faced his student.

But then there was a differen't story. In the end, he lost to Rekka. Something rare and almost unheard of in the long line of Blademasters. As a master, he felt proud. But as a Blademaster, his honor felt a pang. He gaver her her sashimno, she had earned it, but he left. He found himself back in Ashenvale, infront of an elf he knew all too well. Kalah. It was there he fought, one last time, ending his feud with the elf once and for all. And in the end he lost. Near death, he asked to be returned to his home fr a proper burial. He then blacked out. He awoke in a tent with an age old shaman above him. He was not dead. There were no words between the young blademaster and the shaman, and as soon as Daichi was healed, he left.

He later learned that he was thought to have been dead. The shaman who took him pronounced him as dead, despite knowing he was alive. It confussed Daichi, so much so he chose to go back and talk to the mysterious old man, only to find no one there. Only a note. 'Learn now young Windwalker.' Once more he was shocked. He had no idea what any of this ment, but he took the words to heart. Shamans have not always been the most clear in their messages. For the next few years he would spend his time in the Outlands, searching, learning. There he found himself. There he learned who he truely was. Through fighting and meditation Daichi figured out what he was to do for the New Horde.

He returned to Azeroth a new orc, if a scarred one. His countless fights in the years in the Out Lands had left him scarred. He had in turn lost his left eye, almost in a twisted irony. His return to Azeroth showed him what was left of the Cataclysm. The world was shattered. Thrall was no longer the warcheif. So much haad happened that he had little time to catch up in it before he was trust back into it once again. His story begins once anew, back into the fray of a world on the verge of war and a cataclysm right around the bend.

Skills and Abilities

Blademaster: Daichi has full use of all of a Blademasters abilities. Windwalk, Mirror Image, and Bladestorm are all moves at his disposal.

Determination: He won’t stop till he's got it done. Expect a fight to the bitter end should you cross him wrongly, or an argument to never end until you yourself gives up. Whereas that would be annoying, it also has another side. He shall continue to grow stronger under his determination and that alone.
Kage, buddy, could you please phrase your profile as an essay of Daichi's life and not a story? Thanks!



Krilari says narrative profiles are cool beans, so this checks out I think!

Your stories will always remain...
[Image: nIapRMV.png?1]
... as will your valiant hearts.

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