Whelp, the Lokison is (hopefully) finished. Let me know what you think. 

[hider=Faen, The Lokison]
[center][u][b]Full name:[/b][/u] Faen, The Lokison

[u][b]Sex: [/u][/b] Male

[u][b]Age:[/u][/b] 19

[u][b]Appearance:[/b][/u] Faen stands slightly taller than most viking men, most of his height being in his long legs. He has a slight build, though is covered in lean muscle. His pale body has a smattering of scars and marks, some being earned in the training yard but most being 'gifts' from his father, the beatings one of the few constants in their relationship. His fingers are long and delicate, more suited to holding a pen than a sword and shield. His hair is long and thick, its colour a dark flame red, Faen being rather proud of its uniqueness. 

[u][b]Clothing or armour:[/u][/b] Instead of the armour he merely wears a shirt and tunic, both so old that while they were once blue they have long since faded grey. Over that he usually wears a wool and leather great coat, several sizes to large for his frame. Other than his trews and his boots he has very little in the way of clothing. His only concession to his wealthy upbringing is a silver studded ornate knife belt. 

[u][b]Facial features: [/u][/b] His left eye is a dark forrest green, his right a deep blue. He has a strong jawline and chin, and a aquiline nose that appears to have been broken in the past. Has grown a beard during the trek home. It has been noted that he is an extraordinarily handsome young man, possessing the kind of fine facial structure that wouldn't look out of place on an ancient Roman statue. He brushes his teeth with salt water whenever he gets a chance, giving him a fine smile that he uses as both a tool and a weapon. Nothing disarms a man better than a well timed smile.

[u][b]Weapons and equipment:[/u][/b] Has his knife and a seax. 

[u][b]Personality: [/u][/b] Faen is intelligent, cunning and thoughtful, just about everything his 'father' didn't want in a son. He isn't lacking in bravery or honour, but his idea of these things are incredibly flexible. His harsh upbringing has made him cynical, though he would describe himself as a realist. He also has a somewhat cutting and sarcastic sense of humour, using a dark wit to deal with tense situations. 

He has a reputation as a coward, as he isn't one who enjoys a fight, but this bothers him little. Anyone who enjoys a fight is a fool to his mind. For his part he is scathing of the typical viking warrior, the brutes with more muscles than brains. 

He longs for a friend, trustee or confidante though. His upbringing left little room for companionship, his relationship with his father was unorthodox at best and his adulthood has been marked by people either hating or fearing him. He feels he would be a loyal friend to whomever gives him a chance, but has never had the chance to show that. 

[u][b]History:[/u][/b] Faen was the first born son to the chief of the village, his mother dying in childbirth. He grew up in a cold household, his father being distant and hostile to him. The truth was a long time coming, but Faen eventually discovered why his father loathed him so. Nine months before he was born his father had been riding in the far reaches of his land, gone for the night, when a stranger walked into his home asking for travellers rights. The stranger was a flame-haired vagabond, with a silken tongue and razor wit, and word is he seduced Faen's mother. The stranger vanished the next morning, seconds before the chief returned. Rumours abounded that the vagabond was the God Loki, causing mischief as is his want. 

The chief would have had Faen killed when his hair changed from baby blonde to the fiery red, as it didn't match his own, if it hadn't been for the fact that the babe had the chief's unique eyes, one blue and one green. This small detail gave the chief cause for concern, just enough for him to spare the child’s life. He raised the boy in his hall, but barely acknowledged him as his own son, instead treating him with a cold disdain, especially after it became apparent that the lad would never be a warrior. Faen spent most of his time with the wise men and shaman of the village, or with the travelling merchants that visited, bringing news and tales of far off places. His appetite for knowledge was voracious, and it soon became apparent that if he was the indeed the 'Lokison', as the rumours went, then he had inherited his fathers keen intelligence and propensity for trickery. 

Recently his father has remarried, his new wife bearing him another son. He no longer needs Faen as an heir, so he has sent the Lokison on his first, incredibly ill fated raid. During the disastrous events that led to he and his companions being exiled Faen witnessed the All-Father lay his curse upon the war-party, but Odin spared Faen, saying that he was family, and that he was fated for greater and far more terrible things. He then passed out. When he awoke his sword and armour were missing, though they were both weights he cared little for.

Whatever those terrible deeds are Odin spoke of Faen doesn't know, but this destiny weighs heavy on him now. 

[u][b]Combat skills: [/u][/b] Almost non-existent. Despite being brought up in the long hall of the chief, and hours upon hours being put into his training, Faen has never been able to say he's a fighter. He has a savage cunning though, and is ruthless and realistic enough to now that when your chance comes you have to take it. 

[u][b]Other skills:[/u][/b] Faen lacks the skills and traits usually associated with a viking, instead viewing himself as more of an intellectual. He has learnt at the feet of the wise men of the tribe, hungry for knowledge, so he has skill with a wide variety of subjects including but not limited to religion, law, husbandry, herbology and medicine. He can read and write the runes of his own people and those of the British, as well as a little Latin, displaying a talent for languages. His true interest lies in people though, in their behaviours and actions. He has developed some skill in being able to read people, and using this information to manipulate them. Though not the most physical of sorts he does show some promise as a runner, possessing both a terrific sprinting speed and impressive stamina. 

He has learnt to walk quietly, and excellent trait in a thief, and an especially handy one for an ill-favoured son. His lithe fingers are well suited to pilfering things from other peoples pockets, a skill he has developed in quiet, picking pockets becoming a game of sorts to him.

His greatest skill is his speech craft though, as he truly possess a silver tongue. Lying comes as natural as breathing to him, given enough time he would damn near be capable of convincing a man the sky is green. 

He thinks his way through problems, cares little for personal honour, would quite happily live the rest of his life without ever holding a sword. In short he's a terrible Viking. 
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