Daughter of Rot
#LittleSprout — A roleplay character named Willow from World of Warcraft / Dungeons & Dragons.
Epsilon & Argent Dawn EU - Timezone: GMT
written by ComfyRadish (she/they, 21+)
This character, the artwork and writing therein are creative property of myself (comfy/comfiesthooman) and the artists listed. Do not use without permission. carrd template by ©
Daughter of Rot
#LittleSprout — A roleplay character named Willow from World of Warcraft / Dungeons & Dragons.
Epsilon & Argent Dawn EU - Timezone: GMT
written by ComfyRadish (they/them, 21+)
HISTORY
ORIGIN
No one truly remembers where this daughter first took root - Only that once, long ago, she was mortal. A witch of the harvest, perhaps, or a daughter of the deep woods who listened too closely to the weeping of the earth. When her mortal body withered, something in her refused to fade. The wild remembered her name, and through its sorrow, she bloomed again.The Wildling wandered for a time, guided by dreams of decay and renewal, until the whispers beneath the soil drew her into the depths - To the place where the world itself was festering. There, among the endless roots and churning mycelium, she found the wounded god at the heart of the rot. To save what life remained, Willow offered herself in return. She became its voice, its anchor, its Herald - A being caught between the hush of death and the pulse of rebirth.Now she walks the waking world as both bloom and blight, a living echo of something ancient learning how to dream again. Those who meet her say flowers grow in her footsteps - And that when she smiles, the ground remembers what it means to heal.
CULTURE
The Fenfolk were a secluded tribal people who dwelled within the deep, mist-shrouded groves and bogs of the Blackwald. Outsiders called them witches, heathens, or bog folk, but to themselves they were kin bound by root and fen - A people who believed that life, death, and decay were all threads in the same great weaving. Their customs stretched back to the age of the Arathi Empire, when Gilneas was but a distant province and the Blackwald was a place even kings feared to tread.For centuries they endured at the edges of civilization - Tolerated when convenient, mistrusted always. They hunted by moonlight, brewed medicine from rot and bloom alike, and whispered their prayers to the unseen Wilds. To the Fenfolk, the earth was not silent; it remembered, it dreamed, it hungered. By the time Greymane’s Wall sealed Gilneas from the world, Willow’s people had already passed into rumour - Remembered only in half-truths, campfire tales, and warnings whispered to children who strayed too near the Blackwald. Yet travellers still speak of lantern-lights drifting through the mists on moonless nights, and of voices in the fog singing in a tongue the land itself has forgotten.
Seeds of Change
In the wake of her people’s fall, Willow wandered the wild places of the world - Not quite alive, not quite lost. Dreams guided her steps: dreams of roots that reached beyond the veil of death, of ancient groves whispering her name, of a heartbeat deep within the soil calling her home. Wherever she walked, the land stirred faintly in her wake - Flowers blooming from decay, moss reclaiming the ruins of what once was.Though she was shaped by solitude and silence, the wilds themselves seemed to conspire to draw her toward others. In time, her path crossed those whose souls also bore the weight of destiny - Wanderers, outcasts, dreamers, and blades. Among them, Willow found something she had not felt since the twilight of the Fenfolk: kinship. Their presence reminded her that even the most forsaken seeds can take root again, if given warmth enough to grow.Now, as the whispers of the sleeping Wild stir once more, Willow walks between two worlds - A creature of bloom and blight, decay and renewal. Whether she will herald the awakening of what lies below or nurture new life above remains unwritten. But wherever she goes, the land remembers, and something ancient begins to dream again.