If there is anything I can do to improve my app, please tell me. [hider=Application] [b]Full name:[/b] Aevar Halbjorn [b]Sex:[/b] Male [b]Age:[/b] Twenty-Eight [center] _______________________________________________________[/center] [b]Appearance:[/b] Aevar stands roughly at 6’3. His shoulders are broad, complimenting the remainder of his rugged, overbearing figure. His pale skin is lined with jagged, fleshy scars, most notably on the entirety of his back, and forearms. He is rather strapping, his muscles forged from brutal hours upon hours of fighting and training. [b]Clothing or armor:[/b] Aevar wears light, finely crafted chainmail, protecting him around his core. His chainmail hangs down over his belted leather trousers. A shadowy wolf pelt is strapped tightly about his shoulders, hanging down such as a cloak would. A single leather brace is bound onto his offhand, made of the same hardened leather used to craft his sword sheath. Even the smallest of details making him look brutish. [b]Facial features:[/b] His amber hair is tied roughly into a long, tight braid, jutting down between his shoulder blades. Although a moderately long beard hides a majority of the scars on his chin and cheeks, a slender scar, running from the top of his ear, narrowly avoided his eye, to the base of his chin, hardens the rest of his solemn disposition. His eyes, resembling that of the sea he ofttimes hated the sight of, along with his slightly crooked nose, are but a few of the many details which notably stick out on his face. [b]Weapons and Equipment:[/b] Aevar hefts a large, iron encased buckler, an assortment of symbols spanning the wooden surface. He holds it prominently in his left hand, although he is able to strap it onto his back while traveling. He always holds his beautifully crafted blade, sheathed at his side, along with a drinking horn, the only two relics he managed to take from his dear friend Gudfrith’s corpse that fateful day. He wields a long, thick spear, with an array of warbands, trophies taken from some of the many he has slain in battle, bound tightly around a makeshift handle. He has created a sheath for his knife, which is strapped snuggly next to the handle on the inside of his shield, allowing for easy access if the need ever arises. [center] _______________________________________________________[/center] [b]Personality:[/b] He is rather cautious towards those who he does not know well, though once he has come to like a person, he treats them as though they were family. He is quick to stand up for those he would consider close, and he is willing to fight for what is his, even if the odds are entirely against him. He is very tactical when it comes to most things, and he thinks out most situations beforehand, even if he can be considered strong headed at times. He only looks down upon those who have proved themselves cowards, respect is earned in his eyes, by contribution, both in the thick of battle, and otherwise. [b]History:[/b] Aevar was born as a bastard, unto his father was a rigid, savage man, and a unnamed local whore. The beasts name was Torvir, a rather infamous berserker, whom stood at their elderly Jarls side for some time, following commands unquestionably. He commanded a fairly large warband, one which was composed of a large handful of skilled warriors, including Aevar’s two eldest brothers, both of legitimate birth. While his father’s band of raiders earned themselves a name, it seemed as though the poor bastard was left in the shadows, forgotten. Aevar’s mother treated him with bitterness, resenting the fact that he was a bastard son, a constant reminder of his fathers mistakes. While Torvir was off pillaging, Aevar was forced to listen to his mother's constant disapproval and ridicule. He knew he was destined for greatness, something he alone foresaw. He begun studying the gods earnestly, devoting himself to them, and at an adolescent age he had started himself on a long a merciless path, hell bent on proving himself worthy enough to become a raider. Hours upon hours were spent with a sword in one hand, and a worn shield in the other. When he was of age, he managed to find himself a place on one of the smallest warbands, desperate for raiders, one which was overlooked by the Jarl for some time, led by a fearless leader Known as Gudfrith. He was properly taught, taking several of his most noticeable skills from the man, including the art of tactical warfare, hunting, and the perfect balance of strength and skill, to become a highly effective berserker. As Gudfrith’s band grew in numbers, and wealth, Aevar was in the process of building a name for himself. Whilst raiding a seemingly defenseless monastery, they were unexpectedly flanked by a disgruntled kings army. Although they held up well for some time, their formation was broken, Aevar watched as his companions were hacked down, it was when the remainder of the kings guard retreated, he noticed Grudfrith’s corpse. He took what he could from his dear friend, left more broken than he had ever before felt, before returning to face the Jarl. Aevar was sent on a longboat, loaded with inexperienced warriors, it was a shoddy place to be for those raiders whom had trained properly beforehand, and after yet another ambush, he was left disowned by his father, and exiled with a small group of survivors. His family believes they have at last rid themselves of the worthless bastard, it was expected for him to give up, to let the world end his struggling life, but he plans to once again, prove them wrong. [center] _______________________________________________________[/center] [b]Combat skills:[/b] Using a hatchet, or an axe, was never his strong point. Although he makes up for it, with his brutally effective swordsmanship and the adept ability to use a spear. He is very tactical in the art of warfare, learning from a very small handful of the best. He is light on his feet, allowing for all sorts of effective attacks. [b]Other skills:[/b] Some Leadership, Hunting, Sailing, and Navigational/Cartography skills. [/hider]