Rachell Donovan

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Rachell Donovan

Post by Delinith on Tue Apr 30, 2013 5:02 pm

Character name: Rachell Donovan
Alias: Rac
Gender: Female
Age: 27
Race: Human (cursed)
Class: Druidess of the Claw

Birth region: Gilneas
Specific area/town: Northern Headlands
Family: Infant son; Adoril Raenmar Donovan, Mother; Delani Donovan (deceased, risen as Forsaken) , father; Francis Donovan (MIA), brothers; Roscoe Donovan (deceased),  Isidore Donovan , Kendall Donovan. Son; Roscoe (deceased)
Known friends:

  • Duskwell household, the one and only family that accepted Rachell with open arms, training her to her current self, yet never questioned her reasons to leave for good.

  • Raenmar Alric, partner. A former Commander of Rachell’s up until the relationship came in the way of career and made her resign from military for good.

  • Rosieanna Mosworth, close friend eventhough Rachell never showed it to her. (deceased)

Known enemies: None.

Her facial features would overall seem appealing yet not in mundane way. Sparkly moss green eyes shaped to more narrow ovals, outer corner of the eye leading up slightly, making them seem more exotic with black full lashes and dash of dark makeup. Her nose bridge does seem slightly damaged, probably taken a punch or two in the past, silver loop pierced through the middle septum and taking some of the attention from her mellow lips that are often parted a little, showing a glimpse of pearly-white teeth.

Rachell's face would be shaped to soft oval with high cheek-bones which would naturally accentuate the intriguing beauty, in this case they'd only show off her scarred right cheek even more, dozens of white vertical lines running from corner of her lips to the cheekbone. She adorns long well-kept hair of vivid, fiery orange which gently flows like a tidal wave towards her scapula.

The body-type she carries would be well-fit and toned without causing any muscles to bulge in unattractive manner. Her feminine figures slightly suffered of the military training but still having wide hips and about an average bosom which both showcase fairly well due to her nipped in waistline.

On her back she'd be decorated with large, dark, tree tattoo. Branches of it crane towards her shoulders and partly snake around the left upper arm. The roots of this tree would be gone, vanished and blended gradually to her skin tone with shadowy mist. The tree would have some cracks on the branches, not made by an artist's needle but caused by whip, several grim-looking slashes covering the artwork.

Rachell is all in all very silent type. She however isn't shy person at all, instead, observing the people around her is what she simply enjoys to do. It's very difficult to get her to open up about anything, be it childhood or latest breakfast.

Due recent events Rachell does however openly speak of the love of her life; Raenmar, should anyone ever mistake asking of the man, the unlucky curious person might have to listen whole story of "How I met Adoril's father."

History: Eight miniscule stories of each chapter in Rachell's life.

Part 1

I am Rachell Donovan, my family consists of three brothers and strict parents and this is how I became me.


I winced in pain and annoyance as the door opened, sending a dim mist of light spread across the damp cellar room.

“Roscoe?” I mumbled into my pillow, Roscoe is my twin brother, kindest of the family.

The door flung open and Francis, my father, stepped in, without a word he pulled me up of my hair and shoved me on the hard plank floor. I lurched and immediately brought my arms to shield my head, instead of squatting; I decided to stay up on my feet for once. Francis nodded before scooting towards the couch I usually slept on, he pulled a broken bottle from under it, my heart stopped. I had planned to escape since I was seven, what a miserable childhood I must have to think such and now my father had found my only weapon. I stood straight again, staring blankly and steadily towards Francis while he sliced his index finger on the bottle’s razor sharp edges, blood slowly trickled out of the wound.

“Bitch-.. Or should I say Rachell, do you want to leave?” Francis’ voice was cold, his expression impassive and impossible to read as he stared at me. I nodded.

“I am giving you everything! A home, opponents to train with, cultural teaching!” His voice sent shrills through my spine, I was only eight, I wasn’t ready to kill my father and run away, what was I thinking?! If I was to kill him, my older brothers; Isidore and Kendall would’ve got me. And what were these teachings he spoke of, I wasn’t aware of any teachings – yet. With a trembling voice I dared to answer, looking straight into his eyes, just to see reflection of myself, I never knew what insignificance looked like. Now I do.

“I-.. W-Want to sta-“My sentence was cut short as Francis approached; he raised the broken bottle and cut deep onto my right cheek with it. I didn’t react; I stood there, like a statue, expressionless. I think that was because I couldn’t, I never saw a smile on anyone’s lips, the void was there though. Always. The blood seeped from my cheek and soon covered my jaw, I could taste it, I could feel the warmth and smell it.

“Pack your bags. You’re moving to attic room.” Francis said without giving another look at my direction, he walked out and locked the door. Was once again my time to do what I do the best, obey.
Part 2

Things changed gradually during the years, I am twelve now and my mood was lighter, thoughts usually drifted away from reality. Our house suffered from water damage last spring, so we moved further into Northern Headlands, right next to the wall. I had the attic room as promised; the view from my window was beautiful and I was able to sneak out of it when darkness fell, wrapping the fields into mysterious blanket like a great shadow, suffocating its’ victim.


“Speak to me my only darling, with your silent, unsteady thumping.” I sang with a joyful tone and I suppose I also smiled, it was dark in the woods, moss and grass tickled my bare feet as I ran upwards the hill. My ears twitched at sudden snap behind me, it wasn’t a loud noise, as if someone stepped on a twig that broke under pressure. Rapidly I scurried towards the nearest tree, pressed my back against it and focused to the broken silence.

“Light damn it!” Those words rushed into my ears as the voice that spoke, or rather yelled them, was not familiar. After that sentence, I heard more noises, breaking of branches and something metal connecting with a stone. The person had tumbled onto ground; I was guessing he was carrying a weapon. I peered towards the dark figure; only hazy lines were notable in the moonlight. The person wasn’t much taller than me, a boy at his early teens perhaps, his hair was long and wind was catching under it, causing few wisps to flow loosely in the air.

“You need help?” My voice was steady and calm, yet my heart was racing faster than Arathorian wild horse. Without waiting for the answer, I walked to the boy and offered my hand for him, staring down towards him, hoping I was looking at his face. After all, my back was against the moon so I was blocking the only light source.

The boy took my hand with firm grip, pulled himself back to his feet and quickly tamed the hair out of his face, I couldn’t quite figure it out but something on this boy made me trust him straight away. We ended up talking, introducing ourselves. I found out this much; his name was Acusio Duskwell, he lived in Gilneas city but was familiar with the woods because of hunting trips with his father, Regar Duskwell. He was to join military soon enough, to fight wars against horde, I was intrigued of that idea, it sounded heroic back then. What a fool I was.

When sun started rising, giving its’ first light to the forest, we departed. I took off back to my home, but we talked again, each night. I mostly listened to his stories, yet that still made me feel important in a way, I mattered to someone.
Part 3

It was exactly week before my eighteenth birthday when I placed a candle on the moist soil and mumbled a prayer of sorts; I never understood what prayers were for. We didn’t believe in Light, in fact, we didn’t believe in anything. Nature had always been close to my heart though; it was mysterious, how even a tree changed so much just to adjust to different seasons.  


Rain had glued my long hair to my cheeks as I raised my gaze from the ground to the gravestone. The text was written in beautiful cursive, Roscoe, which was the name stuck in my head for next autumn. Once more I looked up at Francis, nodded to him with a rueful smile before opening my mouth to speak quietly.

“I’m sorry it wasn’t me.” Before saying the last word I closed my eyes, taking deep breath and filling my lungs with the fresh air. All I heard was raindrops hitting on the ground; it was beautiful, to me. When I opened my eyes again, Francis was gone; he was still gone the next morning, next week, and next month. We were all worried, I invited Acusio to our place more often, I never told what I had to face when I was younger, and it wasn’t relevant. As my father left, he didn’t only leave us behind, but a letter to each one of us.

“Dear Rachell,

When your twin brother passed away I knew it is time for me to leave. When you and Roscoe were born, your mother didn't make it. She was a kind woman, kindest I ever met and you seemed similar to her. You have her eyes; you had her laughter, her smile. I have been terrible father to you; I couldn’t see those similarities nor hear them. Hence, I removed them. Think back Rachell, can you recall the sound of your laughter? You can’t, and I know it. You all might think I’ll be back, I might, but this is where I stop lecturing you and let you choose your own way. Let it be Light or Shadow for you, Rachell, I don’t care.


Francis Donovan”

I let the parchment slip away from me, like I let my rational thinking slip away at that moment. I raised my hand to feel the scarred right cheek, clenched my hands to fists and slammed the window in. I couldn’t feel the pain of shattering glass at first, that’s what my father had created of me.

“You hated me for everything you loved her for.” I spoke to myself, disbelief in my voice, sorrow in my tone. I couldn’t believe how he could do such thing to his own daughter, it wasn’t my fault Delani died, it wasn’t. Without hesitation I grabbed my coat and paced outside, it was still raining, the rain was heavier than usually. It felt like the drops tried to beat out my already beaten soul as I ran, I ran as fast as I could to Gilneas City, it was larger than I remembered, but I still knew exactly where Duskwell resident was. It was my turn to feel freedom of choice.
Part 4

I have lived at Duskwell’s household for about two years, I didn’t study, I trained. There wasn’t a day when my muscles weren’t sore, not a day when I didn’t taste blood in my mouth. Acusio’s father was harsh, not in a same way as my father though, but he sure didn’t deal with failures.


I stopped. Poised my knuckles and the balls of my feet, I stared straight ahead at the black wall. It was probably no more than two yards away, though I couldn’t be sure. It was too dark to be sure of anything. The way my muscles were jumping and jiggling of the previous, I wondered if I had enough strength to make it over the wall. I’ll make it, I told to myself calmly in my mind before I sprang up and forward like a sprinter leaving the blocks, churned up the final piece of hillside, hurled myself towards the wall and leaped. As my hands clamped the top, I heard quick footwalls rushing at me from the left. Adrenaline rushed through my veins as I helplessly kicked myself up before managing to drag my torso over the edge, then it hit me, cold hands grasping around my ankles.

“Got you!” Victorious bellow was heard after those words as I got forcefully yanked down to ground. I rolled my eyes and curled up defensively against the wall, mumbling to myself silently.

“Hey, what you said?” Acusio slammed his hand on mine and pulled me back to my feet, shaking me by the shoulders and offered a kind smile.

“Just-..Forget it, will you? I snarled behind my teeth and bent down to rub my sore ankles, again he got me, I can’t afford mistakes if I get to real obstacle course with horde behind me. Someday.

Now it was my turn to be the predator as we said, I was worn out before we started and I had to chase him with full plate armor covering my body. I ought to get that little creep just for making me run this much, but no. It was just part of my training and from the bottom of my heart, I loved every single moment of it.

Not long ago from this, I got tired. I spent most of my days in bed resting and stretching my muscles properly for once. It was time for my life to take another turn, unexpected but perfect one. I became so happy of the outcome that I even cried of joy, but as the saying goes; Easy come, easy go.
Part 5

I think I dreamed of fighting off assaults from my fictive hideout – dressing up in my blindfold, helmet and camouflage suit, arming myself to the teeth and moving down hordes of rampaging crazies. That was how I imagined my life to become, before I got my son, Roscoe, named after my forgotten twin brother.


I skipped downstairs cheerfully, cradling Roscoe in my arms and pinched the bridge of his nose gently. There was no man in my life, Acusio is old news, it’s just me and Roscoe now and been like that for some time already. Everything seemed fine; my older brother Kendall sometimes looked after Roscoe when I had to go train or work. My work was rather simple, being a patrolling city guard; I felt my training was all in vain. This wasn’t what I imagined it to be like.

Little did I know how much I actually cared for that tiny bundle of joy that I was calmly rocking in my arms. Each night I sang to him silently, it wasn’t anything good, it was just a short song I made up in a whim. I think Francis would’ve been disappointed how the song ended, he was all about sad endings.

Gently I wrapped Roscoe on a soft blanket and covered his head from breeze before stepping out and rushing to north. I returned to my roots often, the forest was just like it was when I was just a little child, wind was howling at the sea and from the hill nearby I was able to see the waves crashing onto shore. Was my day off, so I was able to spend whole day in nature with Roscoe, I placed him onto a soft bed of moss where he babbled with that cheering voice. With a sigh of relief and exhaustion I sat on a rock close to Roscoe, starting to sing the usual lullaby.

“No life beneath,
a word written to its soul.
Lone tree on heath,
Instead of roots, just a hole.

Beyond this world with life and beauty,
nearly set the nature on knees.
Sending chills through forest deadly,
shadows rising, branches freeze.

As seasons changed,
the tree sudden turned old.
It suffered, enraged,
as defence grew so cold.

Then a day once came,
when shadow-roots broke.
Caused warmth like flame,
gave whole trunk a huge stroke.

When the years had passed,
creeped roots of other nearby.
Wasn't the only one that lasted,
it got touched, wonder why.

Once again flourished this tree,
not only with beauty, but also life.
Roots so strong, now set free,
yet the heath didn't seem so rife.

Just those two trees stand there now,
Apart from others, up above.
Only nature knows why and how,
One life saved with others love.”

Roscoe was asleep and dusk was sneaking up on us. It was time to go home again.
Part 6

I’m twenty-four and lower than I ever got before.


Hastily I removed my uniform, shoving it aside and placed my two-hander on the weapon rack before scurrying upstairs. My heart stopped, my lungs collapsed, it hit me like a bullet to heart. Rain was trickling inside from the window slowly, but water damages weren’t the first thing in my mind in that moment. Is it the name, was it cursed? The moon was a smooth, blurred disc, hanging high in the soft night sky as I took a few steps closer.

The familiar feel of loss tickled my center. Maybe I was just an escapee from the local madhouse and was imagining everything, that would be plausible. So the flicker of fear came and went. Slowly I lifted the fragile body in my arms, running my fingertips on the white cheek.

“I’m sorry I wasn’t here.” Of course I knew he wouldn’t respond, just three he was as he passed away, it must’ve been hours ago. So pale he was, so cold.

The fire crackled. Its pale flames fluttered in the morning sunlight weakly. Cremation of my own son, didn’t expect that to happen.
Part 7

So many died by the Forsaken and Worgen, that I didn’t have time to mourn my previous loss. I turned to a mindless beast, I got the cure, yet my mind still feels blank and works with basic instincts. Once in Darnassus I sought for anything familiar to cling on. Soon enough my beliefs took a turn and I learnt new ways in combat, too soon I left my mentor however, far too soon I left to fight.


Explosion, screaming, crashing of the walls. I could still hear Arathorian battle cries when last ones of my squad were ambushed on road, not far from Theramore. I never used roads in battles, they seemed so open and dangerous, alone I skipped over the field of corpses, so many races had come to fight and fall, so many lives that could’ve been saved.

I sprinted off quickly towards the shore, there were more horde coming I bet, and Theramore had fallen, a tower of thick black smoke was rising in the horizon. Why was I here when the stronghold was in danger? I was here because I did what Corporal told me to do. Too many memories of past rushed through my mind as I kept running.

As I was distracted, a tree pounded on my shoulder as I hurried, knocking me sideways, turning me to tumble into a quick, wild roll. I flipped and flipped down the endless hill. Later something gouged my side. Finally, the ground dropped out from under me. A freefall made my heart lurch with dread.

Thoughts paced back and forth in my mind. How long until I hit the ground?

The freefall didn’t last long, I landed on my back on a bed of rocks that rolled and clattered as my momentum slid me across them and flipped me over one last time. For a while, the world seemed to be tilting and swaying. Then it stopped, everything stopped. The distant sounds turned into complete silence, my vision blurred and I only saw darkness. Right before passing out I heard a thundering pound right beside my head, the heaviest of footsteps I ever heard.
Part 8

It was some days, maybe even weeks, after Theramore fell. I was still war-torn and exhausted, but I was alive. My duty as a soldier was at its end, nobody whom I knew survived. Rarely I shifted back in human form; I hadn’t spoken for months, maybe for a year to be exact, not because I liked the forms more. Only because I had nobody to talk to.


With my blood seeping paws I paced through the familiar lands, I knew Kalimdor very well, this is where the fights happened that I took part of. Now as my purpose was no longer, I had decided to follow a trace. It was faint, but it was there, a human, injured one. From Theramore to these hills of Stonetalon Mountains, some sort of madness must be driving this person forward. From a local base camp I gained more information, the person was a man. Wearing tabard of once so glorious Gilneas.

The wind was blowing from above towards south so his scent was tracked down easily, he had stopped. Perhaps he was dying and I would have to witness yet another “survival’s” death? I shook my head at the thought and started climbing the steep mountain, who in Azeroth would start mountain climbing in any injured state? Soon enough I found the answer to that question.

I shifted from the form, approaching the man calmly. If it wasn’t for the dust in my eyes and the beams of sun that blinded me, I could’ve have said he looked like a mess. He held bright ginger hair, tinted with the blood of others among with unshaven visage, torn and ragged clothes covered his figure, I couldn't say if he had the same posture as I did. Military one. He was more of a hunching bundle with severe attitude issues. Yet again, it was better than nothing. Something to rest my eyes on if nothing more, I suppose. With short introductions we started heading off together, even though he had every single feature on his personality that I hated, he was still something I appreciated out of habit. Commander.

Things you may know about this character:

  • Rachell is a mother, this is nearly impossibly to bypass as she nearly always walks with child in her arms.

  • Rachell claims to be strictly a Druidess of the Claw and uses no other skills apart from offensive shapeshiftings.

  • Often sings lullabies to herself or to her son.
Things you may not know about this character:

  • Severely depressed despite the sugary smile, struggling with financial issues.

  • Rachell holds grudges towards several people from past and current, actively hunting the ones in her list.

Possible crime record: Never caught for her deeds.

Other information: Single mother with bastard son as Raenmar Alric has been announced MIA.

Last edited by Delinith on Sun Sep 29, 2013 3:53 pm; edited 4 times in total

Posts : 68
Join date : 2012-07-22
Age : 25
Location : Finland

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Re: Rachell Donovan

Post by Bradley on Tue Apr 30, 2013 5:33 pm

Great profile.. Entertaining... Gotta read all the parts sometime though!

Posts : 399
Join date : 2011-12-04
Age : 22
Location : Kingston, Jamaica

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Re: Rachell Donovan

Post by Delinith on Tue Apr 30, 2013 6:21 pm

Not done yet though, description coming on thursday and personality later today.

Posts : 68
Join date : 2012-07-22
Age : 25
Location : Finland

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Re: Rachell Donovan

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