Magnussen Undvikr

[Mausman]

(Image done by the wonderful Herisheft! thank you so much for this! <3)


What am I supposed to do
If I want to talk about peace and understanding
But you only understand the language of the sword
What if I want to make you understand that the path you chose leads to downfall
But you only understand the language of the sword
What if I want to tell you to leave me and my beloved ones in peace
But you only understand the language of the sword

I let the blade do the talking...
So my tongue shall become iron
And my words the mighty roar of war
Revealing my divine anger´s arrow shall strike

All action for the good of all
I see my reflection in your eyes
But my new age has just begun

The sword is soft
In the fire of the furnace
It hungers to be hit
And wants to have a hundred sisters
In the coldest state of their existence
They may dance the maddest
In the morass of the red rain

Beloved brother enemy
I sing my sword song for you
The lullaby of obliteration
So I can wake up with a smile
And bliss in my heart

Coexistence, conflict, combat
Devastation, regeneration, transformation
That is the best I can do for you

I see a grey gloom on the horizon
That promises a powerful sun to rise
To melt away all moons
It will make the old fires of purification
Look like dying embers


Basic Information
Name: Magnussen Undvikr
Aliases: None yet
Gender: Male
Race: Human, Ruathym
Age: 25
Profession: Former Huscarl, Warrior, Hunter/Tracker
Faction: Bouncer in service of Darius Co.
Deity: Tempus and interest in Nature's Pantheon

Accent: Northern accent, somewhat archaic at times, but it is slipping.

Physical Information
Height: 1m95
Weight: 90 Kilograms
Body build: Muscular, broad, sturdy
Skin type: Rough
Hair style: Long, left side of head clean-shaven and adorned with runic tattoos
Eyes: Icy blue
Skin: Caucasian.
Body-markings: A large scar runs from left eyebrow down over eye and cheek. They eye appears to be intact.
Class and Likely Development: Fighter/barbarian/?/?

Presentation:
Focused and calm, akin an animal taking in his environment, this mostly is when he is at work, patrol or on adventure. During recreative moments, the man has witty humor and seems to be in for a good time with drinking. However, certain topics or comments can invoke a glare from his end and trigger his anger.



Gear
Furs, leathers and metal in scales form his armor. He is Always seen with round shield and axe of Dwarven Origin, both are kept in near-perfect state as is his armor.

Behaviour
Overal, Magnussen appears calm, composed and eager to learn more in the art of combat. Witty jokes and a helping hand offered to folk tend to be what makes him, well, him. There are moments however, where a vulgar display of anger, agression and brutality surfaces against either a foe, or at moments someone makes a wrong comment. A stark contrast to his normal presence...some link this to a possible berserker nature, some are puzzled by it.

Magnussen prefers to sleep outside cities. Loathing the hustle and bustle and crowds within cities.

When lacking coin for the Friendly arm or another place, the Warrior is not at all bothered much and quickly enough builds himself a lean-to, covered with hides and gets a fire going.

When choosing for such, the Warrior, either by animal watching him or wandering folk passing him by, can be seen humming droning Hymns with hands held up to sky whilst sitting on his knees. It is not uncommon that lines and markings adorn his face during such "rituals". He appears mostly in a trance-like state whilst humming. Empty bottle always can be spotted nearby.

Background:

Son of a Smith father and Warrior mother, Magnussen grew up learning how to fight from his mother and to look after his equipment from his father.

Life on Ruathym is harsh, with no less than eight months of biting frost and fog, the hardy people stock up on food and supplies by various ways. One of those ways, is raiding.

Part of the village's raiding group, Undvikr's mother had set out with her pack to gather. Their target had been a small pirate settlement. Their raid a succes, they returned with plenty of plunder to stock up.

Alas, within the same month, a large pirate-ship appeared. Apparantly ired, some survivors of the raid had recognised where from these raiders had come and plotted vengeance to retake their own plunder.

As ballista-bolts and catapult artillery hammered the coastal town, fighting ensued within the village. It was then, the young boy of not more than thirteen winters, was confronted with the meaning of death of mother. She had been mortally wounded. A tragic farewell of bloodied hand cupping the young boy's cheek and murmur of believing in him and urging him to be strong was all that remained in that moment, as Tempus had claimed her.

The sight of dragonboat being pushed into water, pyre with his mother on top laid to rest, axe and shield sent with her, gripped his young heart with sorrow. Solemn silence lingered, as more boats were cast off, as archers gave their final fairwell to the fallen with flaming arrows, igniting the pyres on boats, granting the fallen ones their last fire.

Undvikr and his father remained. He helped his father with smithing, and trained with the rest of the warriors, aiming to follow his mother's footsteps.

He had offered himself in service of local Jarl, as one of the Huscarl. Undvikr found a kinship with the Jarl's hounds and trained them. He looked after the stock of firewood and honed his skill with axe.

Then, one day, the young warrior was allowed to partake in raid. Eager and excited, he and his pack set off to sea.

Alas...storm had caused them to drift away from their destination quite some...and to their misfortune, Serpent of the Seas attacked them.

It was over swiftly, the ship broke in twain and the raging Sea began it's claim onto the souls in the water.

Undvikr managed to crawl onto wreckage and held on for dear life until exhaustion had claimed him. When seagul called out and waves lapped at his legs, the young warrior came to while coughing out the sting of salt water. A lighthouse nearby, along with what would seem akin a keep. High walls and towers in a circle...


Goals:
With no means to return anytime soon, since the young warrior is facing dishonor at home for not sharing death with his fellows on sea, Undvikr remains on the Coast to forge a path for his own.

- Uphold his cultural heritage
- Find somewhere to be of use and grow (Partially achieved)
- Further hone his skills in combat in dedicated training

Possible Plot-Hook Ideas and Misc Facts:

None have been put in place by myself, but I am open for input by other players and if a DM would deem the character fitting for something, it goest without saying I am open to such

- Pvp accepted within reason and conform server rules
- Permastrikes accepted within good reason and conform server rules

[DM Soulcatcher]

Reviewed and approved. Exp awarded.

[Mausman]

Her ship glided gently on the waves
As day turned into night
Hundreds of burning arrows
Fillled the starlit sky


Magnussen had helped to wash the blood from her body. He caressed her brown-reddish thick locks. He was a mere thirteen winters and his chest burned with aching and sorrow. A young cub, who still was learning about the world and his place in it, robbed from his mother-bear. It was surreal, to touch one's own mother who wasn't there anymore. A lifeless vessel that the mind recognised as the fierce and loving mother to him that she was, but the heart knew she was there no longer and it burned in it's anguish.

Her finest clothes were put in a chest, not put on her body. There would be a time for feast in the halls, but she had to arrive at Tempus' hall as she always was known. A fierce warrior, with a secret that the young man only knew. Between her and him, the word cub was more true than most people could fathom and unbeknowst to him, only a select brotherhood knew of her secret as well.

Life among the Ruathen was renowned for being short and harsh, thus, life and death both were honored and celebrated.

Dressed for battle, her axe and round shield at her sides, she was placed within longship ontop of wooden stack. She and those with some renown in the area were granted a pyre on sea. Groaning of wood could be heard as ships were cast off onto sea. Slowly they drifted, further and further. The young warrior kept his gaze onto her ship. His chest clenched from inside up to his throat and the muscles of the young boy's jaw rippled. His eyes moist though not a sound was made. Day slowly turned into night as the ships had drifted and arrows were lit for the gathered archers. Volley after volley was let go in a large arc, eventually causing the pyres to become lit.

Ships began to be consumed by fire and in the eyes of those gathered, these souls would be released to the Hammer of Foes.

Young Magnussen grunted softly, in agony, as her ship broke and began to sink to the depths, as would be the inevitable end of the ritual. His father squeezed his shoulder, realising the impact of such a display, this was the last that would be seen of her presence in this world.

Magnussen, in silence, made a promise then...




Fathers, mothers
Await the fall
Sisters, brothers
The end of all