| Saber Alexander; The Northern Werewolf | |
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| Tweet Topic Started: Jan 28 2014, 12:13 PM (130 Views) | |
| Lynetsinner | Jan 28 2014, 12:13 PM Post #1 |
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Name: Alexander Ragnar Lynetsinner Class: Saber Gender: Male Alignment: Chaotic:Neutral Age: 26 Personality: Alexander, trough lived his life by the Nine Virtues, he was never alone. His joyus and warming aura always attracted his fellow warriors, who listened to his tales, told in that mildly resonating deep voice. On the battlefield he was an another man. His hate and bloodthirst was so strong and deep, a lot of enemies run away from him, even at the sight of the warrior. Looks: He was an average height, amongst the sons of frost, with his 192cm, and had a tough, massively trained body of 107kg. His long wavy fair brown hair, and his cold ice blue eyes reflected the origins of his blood on his pale skin. His beard was well kept at the lenght of a drinking keg as well. In battle, and in average, he worn dark greyish leather armor, with slightly corroded, battleworn armorplates all over, decorated with his favourite animal, the grey wolf's fur and pelt. All these were raised to perfection by his tattered, black cape, with a pelt of the biggest gray wolf he ever hunted resting on his back and shoulders. The head of the skinned animal was always resting on his left shoulder, or pulled on top of his horned helmet, to intimidate enemies. Robbed from the skill of maintaining a spirit form, Alexander has to stay in this world always. His average clothes are based on the almost similar to his battle outfit, he likes to wear Red Rooster Marthens boots, with Winter BDU pants, Black T-shirt, with jumper from his kin, what remained in this world, from Amon Amarth, and a long black leather coat. Talents: Cooking, Sailing Likes: Foods, Alcohol, Entertainment, Fight, Hunting Dislikes: Dishonour, Disgrace, Betrayal, Whining Strength: A | A++ with Bravery Endurance: B Agility: B Magic: C Luck: D | D+ with Bravery Mana Pool: Master Prana Pool * 45 = Saber Mana Pool. Noble Phantasm: Spoiler: click to toggle Skills/Abilities: Spoiler: click to toggle Spells: History: Born at the west shores of Norway to a mercenary family, who kept themselves up by serving local Jarls. Both of his parents were brave warriors, and Alexander was taught by them. The boy quickly showed interest and exponential talent to fight under his trainings. The other thing what caught his parents' eye, was his unending thirst for blood and battles. At the age of seven, He defeated a pack of wolves what attacked him on his route to collect wood. His skills kept growing, and achieved many things, yet his impending demise was came closer every day. When the Jarl found out about his father, Brynjar, who betrayed and murdered his best soldiers from the dark for a long time. His mother, Dorothea, was given the task to murder him in his sleep for vengeance, but she wasn't strong enough to kill her love, and Brynjar brutally murdered the woman. Alexander, seeing the whole scene, drew his sword, and defeated Brynjar in a sword fight, and took his head for his deeds. The little boy's mind shattered to pieces, and ran away from the cottage, slew anyone who stood in his way. Long years walked by, he threw away his betrayer father's name, and picked up his mother's name, Lynetsinner. The young boy became one of the most feared warriors of the north. Matured, and became wiser, but his mind was still in ruins, vividly pulsating with bloodthirst, and hatred. On his roams, he stumbled upon a crashed Dwarven caravan, and after he helped repairing it and defending it against bandits, he was awarded with the cursed runic sword, Dáinsleif, The Legacy of the Dead. When the news got to him about the impending Briton forces, he returned to the village where he was born, assembled a team of old friends, and great warriors, and defended the western coast of Norway. Slew thousands of British soldiers, The God of Thunder Thor watched his life, and rewarded him for protecting his kin, with his magical weapon, Mjölnir. The King of Norway hired Alexander as a leader for his best army, and sent him on a raid to the British Isles. In vicious battles, he conquered Northumbria. In these times, The Britons gave the name "The Northern Werewolf", to him on the battlefield, because of his menacing aura. Months passed, and his grip on his army weakened, as his hunger for King Arthur's blood was increasing. When he first met The King in a pursuit, he saw her, the golden haired maiden, Altria in the grace of her, he fell in love with her. Selfishly Alexander attacked only those points where the King was dwelling, lots of warriors fell in those battles, and more sailed back to their homeland. After many attacks, King Arthur's armies cornered him, the history knows about this as the battle of Durham. At this point he was facing the Briton army by himself, the other vikings ran away. Altria, to show off her mercy, she sent out the Knights of the Round Table. Alexander killed two knights, and wounded the other ones. Alexander tried to speak to Altria under the struggle, but The King's servant who understood his sentences, told the opposite ones. After seeing her dearest soldiers fall, Altria herself engaged in combat with the mighty warrior. After a long fought battle, the King of Knights emerged victorious. The battle was not raging between the two, but within Alexander too. Whenever the small knight made an opening, Alexander hesitated to hit all the time. He hadn't had the heart to hit the beautiful girl, what caused her sword to pierce trough the viking's heart, starting under his breastbone, directed upwards. Alexander didn't feel pain, nor anything. His darkened heart bested his bloodthirst in the end. Slowly grope on the holy sword's blade, and pushed it more into his body. Altria freezed at the action of the man. He gently took a hold of the girl's hands on the hilt with his severely bleeding hands, and said his last words in english: "Lady King ov' Knights, I hope for an another meet, that isn't crossed by blades." Watching the girl kindly with his fading memories, he dreamt about her, he desired for an another time, he wished for the mighty treasure, what the old shaman saw in his visions, back in the eastern mountains of Scandinavia under his adventures. Picture(optional): It's on it's way, but my drawing skills are not the best. Edited by Lynetsinner, Feb 4 2014, 05:07 PM.
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