Kronshi
Obscene Symphony
Nightwing95
5341Ace
Andreyich
Fetzen
LoadedGuns
LemonsName:
Rorik Sveksson
Kin:
North
Magic:
Flame & Foresight
Age:
Twenty
Appearance:
Personality:
Rorik is a man of boisterous personality and good heart. He is often mirthful and mischievous, with words of praise and a smile upon his lips for those he likes, and smirk adorned wise cracks for those he really likes. Young as he is, he's often filled with the hot blooded bravado more wizened men keep under taps with the wisdom of age, often getting himself into binds with his wit when it gets just a bit too sharp, or when his boasts are called upon by those who see through his charades. Rarely does he mean harm to any, however, as the kinship that binds the North together against all odds runs deep in him. He's the type of person to give a man the shirt off his back in times of need... Only to give him a good ribbing about needing it in the first place later, of course.
Skills:
Rorik is a blacksmith by trade, forging tools and weapons of many shapes and sizes with ease, in addition to being well versed in maintaining and repairing these things. He is also skillful with leather working, able to skin animals, prepare the hide, and fashion it into just about anything one could need. As his work demands it, Rorik is strong of body and more than capable of giving (and taking) many a staggering blow, though he has no formal combat training.
Unbeknownst to him, he holds a latent talent for the shamanistic magicks of his people. Flames burn hotter and brighter in his presence, and he often sees visions of events past, present and future in the dancing blaze, although rarely do these impact him in any significant manner thanks to their random nature. Known to everybody, through fault of his volume, he's also quite a singer and a natural with a drum.
Fears:
Rorik fears more than he chooses to let on. Among these are the terrors that grip all, of death consuming himself and those whom he loves. Less commonly, he fears the sea or any great body of water, a boyhood accident in the river nearly costing him his life which spawned such a fear. Deepest of all, he fears that for all he tries, those around him may truly despise him, as the acceptance of others is the core of his jovial behavior.
Likes:
Rorik enjoys many things. Good drink, good story, good women. The chirping of the birds above and the taste of juniper berry on his lips all among them. He truly holds a love for smithing, the rhythmic hammering of metal as good as song to his ears. The warmth of flames give him boundless happiness, many nights of his spent staring into the crackling wisps of a camp fire while his companions slept.
Equiptment:
The tools of his trade, the clothing upon his back and a horn full of mead. He wields a sturdy bearded axe for when he's out of the village for purposes of self defense.
Biography:
Rorik was born some twenty winters ago to the local blacksmith of Norn, the first child to bless the young man and his bride. He proved to be a rugged young child, surviving his first years without issue or illness when many, including the two brothers who followed him, did not. When he came of age to help, the young Rorik would assist his father and his father's apprentices around the small forge that kept Norn running. The birth of two more siblings, sisters would only further cement this work in the life of the young lad. As the eldest child and only male to make it past infancy, the responsibility of head smith was destined to fall upon his shoulders. Thus, Rorik took up the hammer in his teen years, putting his good constitution to use by hammering axes, plows and nails for his fellow northmen.
Rambunctious as he was in boyhood, the forge spoke deep to Rorik. He never held such focus as when he starred into the flames whilst stoking them, nor when he watched the hammer strike blazing iron into shape. This deep seated love for the trade helped him progress quickly in it. He proved skillful in his endeavors, an boy truly worthy of the craft even if his blood did not demand it so. Now a man having spent years at the anvil, he now holds the position of the most senior apprentice within Norn and does the majority of the work at the forge, leaving his aging father to rest his bones and only finish the works required.
Rorik Sveksson
Kin:
North
Magic:
Flame & Foresight
Age:
Twenty
Appearance:
Personality:
Rorik is a man of boisterous personality and good heart. He is often mirthful and mischievous, with words of praise and a smile upon his lips for those he likes, and smirk adorned wise cracks for those he really likes. Young as he is, he's often filled with the hot blooded bravado more wizened men keep under taps with the wisdom of age, often getting himself into binds with his wit when it gets just a bit too sharp, or when his boasts are called upon by those who see through his charades. Rarely does he mean harm to any, however, as the kinship that binds the North together against all odds runs deep in him. He's the type of person to give a man the shirt off his back in times of need... Only to give him a good ribbing about needing it in the first place later, of course.
Skills:
Rorik is a blacksmith by trade, forging tools and weapons of many shapes and sizes with ease, in addition to being well versed in maintaining and repairing these things. He is also skillful with leather working, able to skin animals, prepare the hide, and fashion it into just about anything one could need. As his work demands it, Rorik is strong of body and more than capable of giving (and taking) many a staggering blow, though he has no formal combat training.
Unbeknownst to him, he holds a latent talent for the shamanistic magicks of his people. Flames burn hotter and brighter in his presence, and he often sees visions of events past, present and future in the dancing blaze, although rarely do these impact him in any significant manner thanks to their random nature. Known to everybody, through fault of his volume, he's also quite a singer and a natural with a drum.
Fears:
Rorik fears more than he chooses to let on. Among these are the terrors that grip all, of death consuming himself and those whom he loves. Less commonly, he fears the sea or any great body of water, a boyhood accident in the river nearly costing him his life which spawned such a fear. Deepest of all, he fears that for all he tries, those around him may truly despise him, as the acceptance of others is the core of his jovial behavior.
Likes:
Rorik enjoys many things. Good drink, good story, good women. The chirping of the birds above and the taste of juniper berry on his lips all among them. He truly holds a love for smithing, the rhythmic hammering of metal as good as song to his ears. The warmth of flames give him boundless happiness, many nights of his spent staring into the crackling wisps of a camp fire while his companions slept.
Equiptment:
The tools of his trade, the clothing upon his back and a horn full of mead. He wields a sturdy bearded axe for when he's out of the village for purposes of self defense.
Biography:
Rorik was born some twenty winters ago to the local blacksmith of Norn, the first child to bless the young man and his bride. He proved to be a rugged young child, surviving his first years without issue or illness when many, including the two brothers who followed him, did not. When he came of age to help, the young Rorik would assist his father and his father's apprentices around the small forge that kept Norn running. The birth of two more siblings, sisters would only further cement this work in the life of the young lad. As the eldest child and only male to make it past infancy, the responsibility of head smith was destined to fall upon his shoulders. Thus, Rorik took up the hammer in his teen years, putting his good constitution to use by hammering axes, plows and nails for his fellow northmen.
Rambunctious as he was in boyhood, the forge spoke deep to Rorik. He never held such focus as when he starred into the flames whilst stoking them, nor when he watched the hammer strike blazing iron into shape. This deep seated love for the trade helped him progress quickly in it. He proved skillful in his endeavors, an boy truly worthy of the craft even if his blood did not demand it so. Now a man having spent years at the anvil, he now holds the position of the most senior apprentice within Norn and does the majority of the work at the forge, leaving his aging father to rest his bones and only finish the works required.
