Character profile

Siksika

Race:

Orc

Gender:

male

Age:

38 years

Birthday:

9. Naras 40 AW

Currently offline

Description of the character

Sharp eagle eyes of elven kind peer at you beneath sleek, bushy eyebrows.
Tall and sinewy, he glows like a great woody forest in the dimly lit twilight.

Story of the character

etween Ember and Gale
They named me with two tongues,
one rough as mountain stone,
one soft as leaves

turning beneath the moon.

Half of my blood remembers
the drumbeat before battle,
the furnace in the chest,
the promise that strength
can burn a path through any darkness.

The other half hears
what cannot be held—
the laughter of hawks,
the sigh of distant hills,
the freedom of a road
that belongs to no one.

I have carried both
like mismatched blades,
one forged in flame,
one carved from wind.

The fire has found me at last.

It coils beneath my ribs,
teaching my breath to glow,
painting my scars
with molten light.
It calls me by an older name,
one spoken in smoke
before forests learned
to dance with the breeze.

I answer.

How could I not?

There is joy
in becoming the blaze,
in feeling mountains
remember my footsteps,
in knowing my heart
can outshine the forge
that birthed it.

But every ember asks a price.

Flames gather.
They consume.
They claim.

And I have loved the wind
too long to cage it.

The wind asks for nothing.
It slips through open fingers,
laughs at kings,
crosses every border
without permission or apology.

It taught me
that a wandering soul
is not a lonely one.
That every horizon
is another beginning.
That freedom
is sometimes gentler
than victory.

So I stand
where wildfire meets the storm.

The fire tells me,
"Root yourself. Endure. Become."

The wind whispers,
"Go. Wonder. Become."

Both ask me
to be more than I was.

Neither understands
that I cannot bear
to bury the other.

I am no pure flame,
to hunger until the world is ash.

I am no empty breeze,
to pass without leaving warmth.

I am the spark
the wind refuses to abandon.

The gust
that teaches fire
to dance instead of devour.

If I must inherit
the furnace of my fathers,
then let it be a beacon,
not a prison.

If I must keep
the sky of my mothers,
let it carry embers
instead of scattering them.

Let me burn
without forgetting how to soar.

Let me fly
without fearing the fire.

For I was never born
to choose between them.

I was born
where the flame
learns to sing
with the wind.