Post by Aroma on Mar 10, 2021 15:52:08 GMT -8
Basic Information
Name: Aroma Vulbeat
Nickname(s): Sandbags, Bodybag
Age: 55
Height: 6’5”
Weight: 285 Kg
Blood Type: O-
Gender: Female
Sexuality: Demisexual
Eye Color: Pale Blue
Hair: Black
Pass Time Information
Hobbies: Training, martial arts, baking, slasher movies
Talents: Breaking jaws, able to do single finger pushups, reigning champion of the “Hands-Free Bubble Tea Challenge” 20 years running
Favorite things: Small animals, including rhinos, her personal collection of crushed punching bag machines, petting zoos.
Miscellaneous: She can knit with one hand, hasn’t seen her feet from a standing position in at least 30 years. Once accidentally stole a sloth from a zoo.
Mental Information
Personality: Aroma can be a very curt woman, however she does mean well. This behaviour being granted to her on account of her upbringing as a child, becoming a very sheltered person who doesn’t share much. She finds it hard to trust easily, and would sooner go a few rounds in a ring with someone to get to know them rather than talk things out. To some, this would make her seem like a rather rude and pigheaded brute of an individual. And sometimes, they would be right. However, beneath the chiseled, rock hard surface is a conflicted woman who enjoys animals, crafts, and staying warm in winters.
Mentality: “Fuck around and find out.”
Ideal: Never be stopped, punch through all in your way.
Belief: The world is garbage, you don’t have to be. | Violence doesn’t solve everything, but it solves a good amount.
Physical Information
Build: With little curvature in the middle, Aroma’s physical build is best described as a “top-heavy cinder block”. That isn’t to say that she has nothing to shape herself downstairs, as she does feature comparatively wide hips compared to most, as things were just adjusted to her figure. Outside of the “expected” areas, Aroma’s body is rock solid and trained to extremes. As the phrase “abs you could grate cheese off of” became something she hears often, being known to be able to snap belts wrapped around her biceps, and tear through small shirts with a flex.
Defining Marks: A faint natural sweet scent, prominently sharp canines, and a set of slightly fluffy ears resembling those of a bovine animal instead of a human’s. As well as, quote, “a face like a slapped arse” most of the time. Seemingly permanently angry, unless she’s in a particularly jolly mood.
Description:
History Information
History: Aroma was born into what was regrettably assured to become a single parent family, as she never got to meet her mother. As she had died during childbirth, this had understandably shaken her father to his core. Triggering a switch inside him that caused him to become massively overprotective of his daughter.
“Dad, these kids are too big. I can’t win!”
“Nonsense! How the hell’re you ever gonna protect yourself if you win every time!?”
This ideology was drilled into her head from a very early age, as soon as she was able to throw a punch, she had to explain and play off many black eyes to her school teachers.
As time went on, Aroma soon was made to drop out of school. Unable to balance her extreme forced training and her studies, her father’s plans seemingly began to finally bear fruit as Aroma had a long string of wins forming under her belt. Advancing to the point of travelling to other dojos nearby, challenging their masters for the signs previously proudly displayed outside.
In her own tyrannical trail of dojo crashing, she soon came across a young blonde wrestler wannabe. Mask and all, she was forced to fight against him if she wanted to challenge his master at the time. Only once she had realized this fight was going nowhere, instead of learning some presumed lesson. She simply lifted the boy up by the legs, and proceeded to beat his master with his abnormally durable body.
As time went on, the very same wrestler wannabe showed up at the doors to her father’s dojo. While she initially assumed this was to take back the sign, it was… To join this dojo instead, perhaps he hadn’t had enough punishment.
You see, Aroma’s father was a heavy drinker. And combine that with his frankly obsessive nature, he came to the logical conclusion of “wilderness training”. As following a silent drive into the woods, Aroma found herself left alone to fend for herself. Lacking any kind of prior survival abilities, she was forced to think on her feet for weeks. Surviving off of a single strange giant red bison she had barely managed to take down, unable to cook it even.
The raw meat caused… An extreme anger to boil within Aroma, as well as a slight mutation. Her ears extending slightly to the sides, and sprouting soft, fine fur on the outside. Resembling that of the very bison she had killed and eaten. This anger fuelled her, storming home in silence.
The following week, Aroma burst into her home. Challenging her father for her freedom and shoving what had become the closest thing she had to a friend aside in her rage.
The fight raged for what seemed like hours, until… A sickening crack was heard as her father’s head smashed against the wall, and he fell limp.
Hospitalized, Aroma was free from her father for a time. As she found herself falling to her knees, showing an emotion she was unable to for so long. Sadness. Tears streaming down her face as she bawled after being unable to beat her friend into the ground. Instead having him sit with her and console her until she was done.
Despite her freedom, Aroma kept up her extreme training of her own volition. Her earlier mutation causing a pair of sizable side effects to her physical development, much to her own chagrin. As she was finishing up with her third punching bag of the day, the sound of a bag dropping at the door alerted her attention.
“You’re not my daughter anymore.”
Her father had recovered from his injuries, and disowned her. Leaving her once again to travel the world and train himself, to regain his honor.
With the now ex-fellow student moving back in to assist her with general living, Aroma ended up going back to school. With her friend helping her with her studies, despite this, she still had some issues with returning to the life of learning. Especially as she kept up her inhuman training out of habit, sometimes going days without sleep. Ultimately having to repeat a few grades in order for things to stick.
After a presumed break in, Aroma and her friend found her father kneeling in his old place again, reeking of alcohol and looking like he had been through a tornado.
“I almost killed an innocent…”
“...”
“I’m… Retiring…”
“That’s not good enough.”
“I know…”
“Get out of my sight.”
And with this final exchange, Aroma wrote down and gave him her number. Sending him on his way, out of her life for what she presumed to be for good.
This information stuck in her head the following day, sitting in her college classroom as the events continuously replayed in her mind. Constantly wondering if she made the right choice. Only to have her thoughts put on hold, as her perverse tutor picked the wrong time and wrong person to grab. The class screamed as she had punched the person in the face and lifted them up with their shattered nose and jaw. Throwing them at full force through two walls, causing them to careen out of the third floor of the school, only to be saved by landing in a tree.
Finishing her education early, on account of her… Actions, as justified as they may have been. Aroma was left with… Nothing. She couldn’t run the dojo alone, and she barely had any kind of qualifications for a job. Flipping through her weekly wad of bills, she saw a job offer from someone familiar. A hired farm hand, with training, and a decent salary? She…
She threw it out.
Only to realize her mistake, and who had sent it even an hour later. Taking off to chase down the garbage truck at full speed to reclaim the letter.
Returning home after terrifying some honest workers, she packed what little things she had. And began her own pilgrimage to this farm. Unlike her father’s though…
Her’s would mean something.