Kavi's long-winded ramble (It's about damn time O.o)

(I suppose this would be the place to put caracter bio's. Belated ramble on Kavi, but since I see forum RP's popping up it seems to be about time to post this.

I'm sorry it's so long, and even more sorry for you if you read it all. xD)

Name: Kavije

Apparent Age: Mid-Twenties

Class: Shaman
Shamans are spiritual visionaries of tribes and clans. These gifted healers can see into the world of spirits and communicate with creatures invisible to eyes of normal beings. They are beset by visions of the future and use their sight to guide their people through troubled times. Although the shaman may seem wise and serene at first glance, he is a formidable foe; and when angered, his wrath is as fierce as those who have a connection to Eternals or nature.
http://www.wowwiki.com/Shaman

Profession: Leatherworker, Traveling Storyteller
With a skilled hand, Kavije artfully crafts armor and clothing from the hides of beasts, though she has no shop. Most of her supplies and crafts travel with her as she travels from town to town. The shamaness' true 'job' is that of a tale-weaver, the young troll using her stories to attract listeners who might also buy her wares. So if you see her, pull up a chair and grab a drink. 'Ey, you got this round, right? The tales are always better when there's a cool drink to loosen the tongue.

Gender: Female

Allies/Pets/Kin:
"Now, d'at's a lot o' tale t' tell in one sittin'. I can't tell ya everyone I know, an' won't for good reason. Need t' know, ya know?" The troll takes a quick swig from the full and frothy mug in front of her, licking the thick, dark ale from her lips as she pauses in thought. "S'pose Ah'll start where it started, d'ough I'll make d'is as quick an painless as possible.

"Most troll families are made up of one sire wit' multiple mates, th' wives watchin' th' children while th' fatha' an' his elda' sons git t' do th' fun stuff," she grins. "Huntin', fightin'," she pauses to raise her mug, "Drinkin'. 'Course, d'at tradition en't followed as much now. Not d'at d'ere aren't as many o' us left." A grimace flickers briefly over her face before her features smoothe back to her normal passive expression. "Now, everyone fights, everyone hunts, an' not as many are settlin' down... not wit' th' Burnin' Legion so close t' takin' d'is all from us. No use havin' pups if d'ere won't be any world fer 'em t' grow up in...

"But, I'm gettin' sidetracked. My motha'... she was one of th' few who fought an' hunted wit' th' men, an' proved 'erself stronga' d'en most of 'em, too. She was of th' Revantusk, but she didn' stay wit' th' village; no husband t' keep 'er d'ere or anywhere, so my motha' traveled all ova' Azeroth. She managed on 'er own fine 'nough, bein' a powerful Shadow Huntress, an' sett'ed wit' many tribes. Th' voodoo spirits unda' her command, as well as 'er bow an' poisons kept her safe among th' less friendly o' our kind. D'ere were still d'ose she dared not tread near, an' fer good reason. Ya c'n pro'lly guess a few.

"Finally, d'ough, she had t' settle." The shaman makes a motion to herself, feeling no need to explain further. "Th' trolls o' th' Echo Isles welcomed 'er, th' Darkspear as friendly d'en as d'ey are now. She aided 'em as much as she could afta' I was born, keepin' th' village safe from th' few dangers d'at arose. Mostly, d'ough, she fished." Kavije smiled, as if at a fond memory, the ghost of a chuckle at her lips before she drowned it with another belated swig of her drink. "When I was still a pup, d'ough, she was... she died... Th' village raised me well 'nough. Masta' Gadrin'jin taught me a lot, 'e was nearly a fatha' t' all th' village's children. I was taken care of, despite... happenin's. I met Vin'jah..."

She cuts herself off there, not with a drink this time but a literal bite of the tongue. "Mn... anotha' day, anotha' story d'at one... Growin' up, I tried t' follow th' work my motha' did. Still 'ave her bow... but th' Voodoo neva' sat well wit' me. Th' spirits, d'ough... d'ey neva' leave me alone. Don' git me wrong, I t'ank 'em every day. If et weren't fer d'em... Hmn... I wouldn' be alive, t' say th' least. An' d'ey're far more peaceful d'en th' Voodoo gods, too.

"Since I left Sen'jin I' been in service t' th' Horde, happy t' fight along wit' m' Orcish friends an' keep 'em alive as well. But Netha' take me if I eva' join d'ey're ranks. 'Grunt Kavije' don' suit me." She grins, taking another deep drink. "Recently d'ough... I' gotten less scars from th' Alliance, an' more from th' kind I fought beside fer years. Even durin' my service t' th' Horde, I followed anotha'. A troll named Woslu who led a group o' cast-aways named th' 'Netherealm Outcasts'. More importantly, I was one of a few who did Wos's dirty werk... in his 'Kiel il Adare'... th' 'Cult of Blood'." Her lip curls back to reveal more of her fierce tusks. "I did many t'ings I en't proud of, but I t'ought at th' time et kept me safe. When ya've got nothin' else, a roof ova' ya head an' allies t' watch yer back are t'ings ya don't take fer granted. But, d'ere were tasks I couldn' bring m'self t' do... I drew th' line when Woslu asked me t' spill my Warchief's blood." The troll smiles grimly into her mug. "D'at wasn't th' first time I died... but et was th' first one I planned. Th' coward's way out, aye, but th' only way I had." She stares into the mug's contents, lifting it after a few moments for only a small, nursing sip.

"Mmn, Ah'm fine, d'ough. Got m' Kodo, Tiny, who does a well 'nough job of frightenin' off bandits an' th' like while Ah travel jus' by his looks. D'ose foolish enough t' cross me I c'n handle well 'nough on m' own. I--" She's cut off, her silence revealing a soft chattering sound. As the troll peers down, her lips bloom into a warm smile. Reaching down, she lifts a robotic squirrel up onto the table and retrieves a small, folded paper from its tail as the copper and bronze plates shift aside to reveal the message hidden within.

"An' d'is lil' guy es 'Coppa'. He deliva's letta's between my... my mate an' m'self." She smiles at the thought, bringing her mug up to hide her blush but not drinking. "He's a good man... strong an' honorable, an' smart. Built Coppa' 'ere from scratch an' some crezy gnomish plans. Couldn' begin t' read th' stuff m'self, but 'e managed t' explain a bit of et t' me an' build Coppa' at th' same time. Finished 'im in only a few days." She seems to beam proudly, stroking the squirrel on its forehead. Despite being a thing of metal and wires, it seems to chatter softly with content. "Maybe ya'll meet 'im, but I'm not certain. Tends t' keep t' his own when 'e's not on th' battle field."

Kavije goes to take another drink, but instead finds herself peering into her now empty mug. She sighs, and drops a few coins on the table. "Unless th' next round is on ya, story's ova'. Take care, pup. Spirits be wit'cha'," she says with a soft smile before taking her leave.

Appearance:
Kavije stands just under the average height for female trolls, with skin and hair of similar tones of turquoise. Her soft-red eyes hold a kindness in their gaze, only flaring different tones of fiery or smoldering red when the unstable Rage her race is rumored to have is ignited. Her lips seem to naturally curve at the corners of her mouth, so she always looks to have the ghost of a smirk on her expression. Kavije's tusks protrude far outward from her mouth, surprising for one who often has such a cool head; usually those with larger tusks had less control of their Rage, letting the Berserker's temper flow through them like a raging feral beast. The tusks are unadorned aside from a single ring of coiled metals and a sparkling, blue gem fitting snugly into carefully carved grooves on her right tusk.

An array of bright and colorful, and generally odd things are woven into her long hair, though, contrasting the plain decor of her tusks. Small shells from the shores of every beach she's stepped her two-toed feet on, feathers similar to the ones which adorned the primal jungle raptors of Stranglethorn, beads from every far off and exciting marketplace, even a small, thin coin from the ancient era of the Zandalarians is woven to her mane, or hang from her pointed ears among her collection of jewelry.

As one's eyes were led down her form, it seems the bright decor doesn't fade there. Her clothing, most of it artfully crafted from her own hand, all of it made for comfort, has many pockets for hidden trinkets, fetishes and talismans. Although her totems to her patron elements sit at her hip, where she can easily use them as she needs. Aside from her armor, all of her clothing is made for comfort, so it brazenly reveals scars which ran too deep, or were too stubborn to be healed by her natural regeneration.

Small cuts and burn scars adorn her hands, along with callouses -- all signs of her path of fighting and "negotiation" with flighty spirits. Two scars, however, are far more noticable, and have far more exciting tales tied to them. One is a deep gash that travels horizontally across her throat, starting from the center and making a sharp, tapering line across to the left side of her neck. The other is a ghastly wound that travels from the far right side of her chest, up and over her left shoulder and back down her back, it's beginning and ending points nearly meeting. Each reminder of their old wounds is so deep that the skin had raised where healing, whereas the marks on her skin are more like pale indentures and points of shine on her flesh. Those aren't her only scars, but the others she keeps well hidden.

Personality: (WIP.)

Strengths and Weaknesses: (WIP.)

Story:
A steady flow of heavy alcohol or some very specific questions (or a combination of the two) are the only things that would make Kavi spill her tale. Even her closest friends and truest loves know little, as she dodges questions about herself with tales of others until the original query is forgotten.
(In otherwords, FOIP. tl;dr)