[hider=Whispers of Hope: The Juggernaut] [center][img]https://s-media-cache-ak0.pinimg.com/736x/67/66/31/676631816aed81d2c54db6d06803418a--viking-s-viking-warrior.jpg[/img] [hider=2][img]https://i.pinimg.com/736x/8c/d8/ea/8cd8ea268b8a4b7b879de585829e8533--character-art-character-design.jpg[/img][/hider] [hider=3][img]https://i.pinimg.com/736x/1b/bb/b8/1bbbb848a514633277a8b345b6a50553--viking-saga-fantasy-male.jpg[/img][/hider] [b][i]Jukka Fenrirsson[/i][/b] [hr][hr] [color=#8b0a0a][b]Age[/b][/color] 44 [color=#8b0a0a][b]Alias[/b][/color] Bloodbeard, Juggernaut [color=#8b0a0a][b]Gender[/b][/color] Male [color=#8b0a0a][b]Race[/b][/color] Human [hr][hr] [color=#8b0a0a][b]Personality[/b][/color] First thing you see about Jukka is definitely not his eyes. Being 213cm tall (7ft) and weighing around 150kg (330pounds) along with a thick, long beard and menacing eyes, not many can stand his gaze. The world would be a much better place if you could call him a giant with a heart of gold but he ain't. He has taken countless lives, be them lives of men, women or children, he will not hesitate. Never did really, except for the few years of his long life when he was happy. He is afraid of no man. Never have been, never will be. But monsters? Now, monsters are a completely different thing. He's seen many, fought them but never got used to them, there's something unnatural about them that he just can't accept. Until now, Jukka had been a killer. A merciless, cold blooded killer. Well, he still is one yet nowadays he's only after those he considers evil, those who he thinks will bring him closer to being worthy of meeting his family, in the afterlife. His twisted logic makes every single life prone to his whims. On his bad days. He's also an alcoholic. A life such as his can't really be dealt with without alcohol or something to take the thinking away. When it gets too hard, when he starts getting flashbacks, that's when you'll see him drink the most or join the fray with no fear. He doesn't really value his life, after all. He's old, he's tired and he just wants to be done with this hell they call living. If he can just do enough good to see his family again, he'll be the happiest man in the world. Jukka can be called somewhat bipolar. Or moody, depending on who you ask. Some days, he's a wise old man who just wants to repent, get rid of some of his sins. Other days, he's the Juggernaut, you can practically see the bloodlust in his eyes, dancing widly from man to man, calculating angles of attack, timings, anything really. To conclude, Jukka is indeed a man of low intelligence yet of immense experience. He will do anything for his so called repentance, his flawed logic dictating that the more of those he defines as evil he kills, the more worthy he'll become. He does not and probably can not understand that he won't find absolution through his acts, be they good or bad but from within. Until then, killing is his truth. [color=#8b0a0a][b]Biography[/b][/color] [hider=Early life]Jukka was born in the heart of winter, in a shabby ol' hut his family owned, last of four children and with a knack for eating much more than his share dictated. They weren't poor, being considered poor would be a blessing for their little struggling family since the frozen land couldn't give them enough to last a winter and there's only so much prey in the never-ending Everwood. Not that his father, Bjorg, would dare venture deep into the lands of the knife-ears although necessity did eventually make them do just that, with deadly results as his older brother Enki was gravely injured by a black bear. His sickly mother, Noomi, died the following summer and a few weeks after her demise, her eldest, Sifkur, left their desolate little house wanting to find a better future. Anything really, would be better than that life. Eventually, he was robbed and killed. Jukka on the other hand, survived winter after winter along with his father and his sister, Ashelga. The blood of his ancestors was obvious in him, with his imposing physique and immense strength before he even reached 15 winters of age as he, like his father, came from a long line of warriors. He was well versed in the way of the axe and the sword, of shields and tactics in the battlefield. [hider=Bjorg Fenrirsson]After all, his father Bjorg had shed blood fighting all kinds of enemies. From the patrols of Gaelia or Haedrion to bandits, highwaymen, monsters, innocents, anyone who stood in his way really. He eventually formed and led his own band of killers and thiefs and terrorised whoever he could, always careful not to annoy the Empires nor any force greater than his. After a particularly bloody skirmish against a caravan though and a little more than three dozen dead soldiers along with many traders and the gruesome torture and subsequent murder of an influential noble's bride, his and his band's luck ran out. They were eventually massacred down to the last man by a professional mercenary company although Bjorg did manage to hide until it was all over, an act he never felt guilty of despite his countless speeches about honor and loyalty to his now dead comrades.[/hider] By age 17, Jukka was ready to either best the world or be bested by it. He knew that leaving his old father and his sister alone was most likely a death sentence but his ambition was burning far too strongly, he wanted to travel and he wanted to fight. He said his goodbyes, accepted War-Fang, a two-handed axe passed down for generations and went on his way with everything he thought he'd ever need, good knowledge of living in the wilds, a proper weapon and the skill to use it effectively. To be honest, in these ages, you don't need much more.[/hider] [hider=Pre-banditry]He spent many months as a hired blade, guarding caravans, nobles, livestock but never staying in one place long. He had a few good brawls, earned his fair share of scars and coppers yet he kept on moving, burning his money on women and mead, his downfall as it would prove later on. A few good years later, having made a name for himself among commoners, Jukka had gotten cocky, a deadly trait for someone who bets his life on his blade pretty much daily. After one particularly heavy drinking session, he woke up covered in blood and two dead women next to him, a crime he didn't wonder whether he actually committed but knew that would end his life as he knew it. Soon enough, he was named a murderer and got a bounty on his head for two whole silver Dahls, a bounty he'd gladly go after if it wasn't for his own head.[/hider] [hider=The Juggernaut]Jukka, of course, wouldn't just sit idle and wait to be driven to the hangman so he became a bandit himself and joined the first ragtag band of cutthroats he found, not that he gave them much choice. After they fell apart, sometimes literally, due to monsters or men, he found others. Then he moved on to the next one and the next one for many moons until he decided to make his own, like his father, and earned his living by threatening, pillaging, murdering or just plain stealing. No one would really stand up to him or his men, they had surely earned their reputation as merciless. The Juggernaut, they called him after he once impaled a man by charging him with his horned helmet. His axe was stuck on a skull and it was too late to draw his blade as the man was already pulling an arrow out of his quiver. Bloodbeard, after he pulled his head away from that poor sod's innards. Jukka's usually light brown beard now had a deep crimson shade. By age 38, Jukka's head was worth 30 silver Dahls. And he was proud of it yet the years on his back started to show their effects. He wasn't as bloodthirsty nor as cruel as he used to be. Hell, he even showed mercy on occasion. He'd prefer targeting bandits and gangs than villages and hamlets. His captains didn't take that well although none of them dare speak of betrayal, Jukka wasn't someone any one of them could best.[/hider] [hider=Erinya]On a particularly warm night, Jukka and his men raided a bandit encampment. Not too much of a fight nor loot but it would be a night to remember as that was the time he met Erinya, a woman the slain men had captured and quite literally used. She was in a terrible state and many of his men pleaded for him to just end her, knowing his brutal nature, yet she woke something in him he never ever knew before. He carried her himself and used every last bit of his knowledge about wounds and herbs to nurse her back to health. Minds though, he didn't know how to heal so instead of being the loud brute he was used to be, he remained silent and just listened. From her sobs in the middle of the night when everyone was asleep, to her curses and screams in her sleep. Not much else was said. He did offer her freedom but she had nowhere to go, her family had been slain. He offered her a place in any village she wished yet she wanted nothing to do with society anymore. So she stayed with him and as the months passed, they grew closer, a broken beauty like her and a beast like him. It wasn't long before she bore his child and Jukka felt like a new man. She hated his brutish ways so he did his absolute best to change them. From being the scourge of those lands he was now protecting them. That, of course, didn't sit well with the rest of his men who called her a witch behind her back and were certain that their leader was under her devilish influence. So they planned and conspired for months, trying to figure out a way to break her hold on him while keeping him from turning against them. Yet they didn't get their chance as Jukka himself announced that he was leaving with his future bride and their unborn child, something which they accepted. They travelled for days, to places Jukka had never been before, he always preferred the cold mountains and thick forests to the warm valleys. Yet he did it for her. They settled in a cozy little hut bordering parts of the Everwood he didn't know and that's where they built a new life for both of them. Jukka buried his axe and everything reminding him of his old life and she buried her traumas, to the best of her ability. A couple of months later, little Hope was born, his daughter. Shortly followed by Delph, his son and Hope's twin brother. And Jukka was happier than he had ever been, holding his children in his huge hands. He was living a dream, the crops were good, the weather was nice and sunny and he couldn't get enough of his wife and his children. But dreams have a nasty way of turning into nightmares, sometimes, don't they?[/hider] [hider=Of Monsters & Men]Jukka still had a bounty of 30 silver Dahls. And his former comrades came in force to collect. He was out hunting when they fell upon his wife and took away her pride, her sanity and lastly, her life. They impaled her on a spear and left her outside their hut, the crying of her children an elegy for a woman they'd never really know. If they had survived, that is. Jukka always wondered who the true monsters really were. Was he better than the wolf or the wraith which lived by instinct while men chose to do unspeakable Evil. The smell of fire shook him down to his core. There weren't any settlements close enough other than his home. He ran through that thick forest faster than he had ever ran before and the closer he got the more he felt his heart sink deep into his chest. His Erinya was the first thing he saw. Then his burning hut and maybe, just maybe, he was never sure, his babies crying. And an army between him and them. He didn't hesitate. He still had an axe and a bow with him. The first three men to charge him fell dead by his arrows. He didn't wait for the rest to come, he charged them head on and let me tell you, that was a sight to behold. The Juggernaut, charging down against impossible odds. He never learned how many he killed that day or whether the blood dripping down his body was his or theirs. Or how many ran for their lives at the sight of the terrifying brute, screaming at the top of his lungs for vengeance and retribution. He was only a man. And no man can escape fate. He fought through the agony caused by the countless wounds on his body until the first spear went through his guts. He still took the head of the one who pierced him. The sword between his ribs though rendered him breathless. The sight of his dead lover was the last thing he saw before the blackness took him. He woke up a few days later, bandaged and sheltered amongst Elves, the knife-ears as he called them until then. One of their patrols attacked the bandits as they were ready to impale his body too and saved his life through witchcraft and the elven ways. He left them the moment he could stand and if not for Aunas, one of their trackers, he'd never find his way out of Everwood. He spent three days and three nights mourning his family, weeping like a child for the first time in his life. On the fourth, he set their funeral pyres ablaze and dug out his axe. He spent the following year completely dismantling his former gang, leaving a trail of bodies behind him. He wasn't a man anymore, he could feel it. He didn't go after his men. He went after everything they ever loved, he knew them well enough to do that. Families, friends, inns they liked, hidden camps, everything. He murdered countless innocents before the fell upon them like disease. He left his captains for last and for three days they suffered at his hands. When he was done, he cleaned himself and drank more mead than he ever had, trying to lose his head with good ol' alcohol. When he woke up, he had absolutely no clue what was next for him, he was pretty sure that he'd die there. But he lived.[/hider] [hider=Current days]He let his beard grow and got back in fighting shape. Sharpened his axe and looted the bodies for armor, not that it really fit him but he made due. With his axe on his back and an iron shield alongside a sword, he made his way home and took an oath in front of his wife and children to fix it. To become what she wanted him to be and be worthy of them, maybe in the afterlife. Seeing them just once more, would do, if he could only [b][i]earn[/i][/b] it. He joined the Order of the Traveller, he always liked the stories about this God, he seemed the most human out of the many deities people put their faith in. After that, he simply did his best to help absolutely everyone in need. From plowing a field to helping an old lady with a rat problem. A fair amount of killing too but never against the weak, not anymore. As for his payment? A warm bed, food and drink. That's all he wanted. As for coin, he looted those who had no use for it anymore and he let some street urchins steal it from him, acting drunk or just gave it away sometimes, to the widows. Not everyone lives, after all.[/hider] [hr][hr] [color=#8b0a0a][b]Equipment:[/b][/color] (Armor, Weapons, Etc.) •[b][u][url=https://i.pinimg.com/originals/da/b7/44/dab744bada91e8637d80b065bacc1ad9.jpg]War-fang[/url][/u][/b]: Jukka's trusty two-handed axe has served him better than anything and anyone else. An old family heirloom which served his father in countless skirmishes, probably worth more money than he ever had or will have in his hands. He treats it better than he treated any living being, carefully applying various oils on it or sharpening it or even training with it. •[b][u][url=https://img1.cgtrader.com/items/654871/2f650b2399/fantasy-shield-3d-model-low-poly-max.png]Ironback[/url][/u][/b]: His shield which is almost his height in order to cover from his shoulders to his knees. •[b][u]Armor[/u][/b]: [url=https://i.pinimg.com/originals/d7/f1/7f/d7f17fe88d8f308bfe9e8eb565960b12.jpg]Generic iron armor[/url] along with his [url=https://i.pinimg.com/736x/20/0d/29/200d29155c9db8424390e5be5f05cfb0.jpg]infamous helmet[/url]. •[b][u]Weapons[/u][/b]: Since Bjorg doesn't give just about everyone the honor of using War-Fang, a generic iron sword or an axe will do. He doesn't specifically care about these weapons as he usually loots the dead for better equipment. And valuables. And any spare coin will do really, mead is expensive these days. •[b][u]Misc[/u][/b]: His flask made of bone, medicinal herbs, hunting supplies, various leather pouches where he stores money, valuables, trinkets and the middle finger bones of his family, like tradition demands, for protection. [color=#8b0a0a][b]Skills[/b][/color] •Master tracker when sober, quite a skilled botanist too. •Has been hunting since he was 8 years old. Knows how to survive in the wilds plus he can deal with wounds. He is no surgeon but he can take care of his body. •Battle-hardened veteran, you don't get to reach 44 years of age in his profession without being a damn fine warrior. Or one lucky bastard, both will do. He has seen things that would drive a commoner crazy and he has their teeth in his trophy pouch most likely. His experience against all sort of enemies along with his brutish strength and imposing physique make him a scary opponent for anyone in these lands and a really sought after mercenary by traders, nobles, anyone really. But, his drinking habits along with his somewhat troubling behaviour have made him starve more than once. •He can empty a mead barrel in 270 heartbeats. •Way of the Berserker: Jukka's unique battle form has been passed down his family for generations and allows him to completely give in to his bloodlust and battle rage, ignoring wounds, exhaustion, his physical limits in general. Combine that with his already terrifying physique and experience and you got an absolute monster of a warrior. Although, there are stories of him attacking his own, blindly, if he's not satisfied with the blood he spills. [color=#8b0a0a][b]Magic[/b][/color] - [color=#8b0a0a][b]Misc[/b][/color][/center][/hider] [hider=The Thaumaturge] [center][img]https://i.pinimg.com/736x/26/0d/ac/260dac4a9aa7a380e8951169d30a125f--redhead-elf-wood-elf-female.jpg[/img][/center] [center][color=#6385AA][h2][u]Mivian "The Thaumaturge" Blueshimmer[/u][/h2][/color][/center] [hr][hr] [color=#6385AA][b]Age[/b][/color] 101 [color=#6385AA][b]Alias(es)[/b][/color] The Thaumaturge [color=#6385AA][b]Gender[/b][/color] Female [color=#6385AA][b]Race[/b][/color] Elf [hr][hr] [color=#6385AA][b]Personality[/b][/color] Mivian is the heiress of House Blueshimmer, one of the few royal bloodlines which survived the Desolation of Ter'Anel and the mass slaughter or enslavement of the Elf-Folk started by King Haedron the Accursed Elven superiority Throw humans to the sea Reclaim the glory of the olden days charismatic in constant conflict kind hearted yet traumatized easily scared being royalty, sheltered life [color=#6385AA][b]Biography[/b][/color] Mivian Blueshimmer is the heiress of House Blueshimmer, one of the few royal bloodlines which survived the Desolation of Ter'Anel and the mass slaughter or enslavement of the Elf-Folk started by King Haedron the Accursed hundreds of years ago. She was born in Everwood She's royalty. Many years of her life studying runes and their application on wounds and the like. Part of patrols until she was caught by humans and raped before her comrades could save her, kept secret. Joined the order in order to learn as much as possible about humans since she's the heir of her House and her voice will be extremely influential among Elves. She will treat EVERYONE, part of her oath as a healer. addicted to elven substance abuse soft spot for children deep trauma / was caught by humans once has never killed [hr][hr] [color=#6385AA][b]Equipment[/b][/color] Runes Bow Silver daggers Iron sword healer's equipment [color=#6385AA][b]Skills[/b][/color] • Mivian, like most of the Elf-kin, is an excellent tracker and knows her way around Everwood far better than any human. She also is a great botanist. • Decades worth of lessons with her father and her teachers have made her an above average fighter, be it with her daggers or her bow. She can defend herself in hand to hand combat against most combatants by utilising her years of training and her agility which is considered extreme even among Elves. However, she always has been a far better sharpshooter, like most who dabble in magic since the basic principle behind both magic and archery is tranquility and complete control over body and mind. •Her revolutionary ways of utilising Runes in order to treat a wound, a disease or even perform surgery made her look like a miracle worker among her kin, giving hope where there was none. Thus, the Thaumaturge as she came to be known, is quite possibly one of the best healers on Erith. [color=#6385AA][b]Magic[/b][/color] Mivian uses Runes of all elements, mostly for treating her patients or anyone in need. While she can't physically support a Rune for more than 3 seconds, she more than makes up for that with her mental prowess, often driving herself to unconsciousness in order to save another life. She has never used her Runes offensively as that would break the oath she took in front of her family and teachers, when she was finally ready to proudly wear the mantle of a healer. She fully understands that magic isn't meant to be used as a weapon but as a gift. [color=#6385AA][b]Misc[/b][/color] [/hider]