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"Look, I'm not one for mincing words, so let's be done with this sorry affair, shall we?"

Name: 
Ansgar Staudinger

Nicknames: 
Anni (He would much rather people not use that)

Age: 
24

Gender: 
Male

Class: 
Cavalier 

Home Country: 
Cheve

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Personality:
On the surface, Ansgar is a simple man. A preferance for the drink and relaxation over intense study, conditioning or training would make one suspect that this Cheve Cavalier is as much an outcast from the three Knight Companies of Cheve who wouldn't, or couldn't be bothered to train and condition himself to wear the heavy armor of a knight as he is just not interested in their prideful manners. Selling his lance for coin has given him a, no puns intended, cavalier attitude towards grand, noble causes. He isn't some hero of old or a legendary paragon of nobility, considering himself just an expendable asset in the eyes of the noble powers that be. Coupled with his self imposed exile from Cheve, he has developed an almost a split personality when it comes to his lifestyle at peace or when at war. Due to his transient loyalties that comes and goes with the flow of gold, most tend not to become readily aware of the strange shifts of who he is dependent on the situation.

Most casual observers who've noted the Cheve native in battle, which is what most people who are aware of the man see, note Ansgar as a death seeker, to put it nicely. Ansgar picks out a vital target in the enemy ranks, regardless of the threat to himself that would occur by charging, and put himself into a death charge, screaming defiance into any arrows, magic, or other weapons of shocked or confused enemy ranks as he weaves his way towards his target, aiming to put the full momentum of his mad charge behind his lance, having once, while learning to use the lances properly, had a bad habit of breaking off part of a lance inside his unfortunate target. When on the field, he is ruthless to a fault, sparing no one in his charge, targets of opportunity that arise while charging seeing no mercy from the charging cavalier. Exaustion and irritation set in soon after a fight, making him bitter and unsocialable soon after a conflict concludes and he yet finds himself breathing still. 

Far rarer for most folks to know is his peacetime persona, or the one Ansgar adopts when not mounted and riding into battle. Much like who he was prior to his self imposed exile, a freewheeling and, preferably, intoxicated young man enjoying his early adulthood despite the war. Slow to anger and quick to forgive, he speaks freely and, often times, without a filter between his mind and his mouth, often commenting on someone or someone with an honest to a fault mentality. Perhaps the only thing he is worse at than lying, is women. Perhaps due to his near constant off battle intoxication, or his blunt, honest and often brutal statements on other people's character and manner of presentation, he has suffered the cold shoulder and angry hand of many a village woman as he rode, half falling off his horse, through their town. But he does mean well, for what its worth, preferring the faults be openly pointed out. After all, how can one address a fault if they cannot plainly see it?

Biography/history:
Born in Cheve to a pair of knights, his father a mounted Great Knight whilst his mother was a highly experienced Knight in her own right, it was expected that Ansgar would follow in their family lineage. The eldest in the family, with two younger sisters who both showed notable talent in Light and Dark magics, respectively, the two younger sisters were sent to study abroad once reaching the appropriate age, to more properly utilize their magical talents. The youngest went to Hoshido to learn from Hoshidan Monks, while the middle sister went to a Nohrian academy for dark mages, the divergent paths creating a great deal of strife and competition between the two whenever they crossed paths. Their eldest brother, Ansgar, and also completely and utterly hopeless with a spell tome, found himself playing diplomat between the two when he wasn't getting drilled into exhaustion by his family. And such would be his early formative years, learning to ride and fight from atop a horse from his father, while his mother would instruct him on proper weapon's techniques, offensive and defensive.

Even though Ansgar was, for most children of other lands, strong for his age, he lacked the frame and raw muscle to support a Knight's heavy armor, and seemed to have a stark aversion to their approach of grinding forward through a fight with shield and lance. This created a great deal of argument between Ansgar and his parents, who expected him to wear the heavy mantle of knighthood and march to war along with the order their family had sworn themselves to, owing as both his other siblings were abroad as mages and scholars instead of staying at home to learn the family trade. Many nights were spent arguing, and it would come to a head when his father, tired of his son's insubordinate refusal to take up the armor of a knight, intended to whip sense into him, literally as well as figuratively. Upon hearing of his father's intentions, Ansgar instead took up arms, finding himself opposed to his father, in his full armor astride a horse, while he was on the young thoroughbred that he had grown up learning to ride and fight on. Iron and determination versus steel and experience, Ansgar had one advantage the old man was unaware of. His father was deadly confident in his armor and ability to shrug off a hit, the crush of armored warhorse and biting sting of silver lance preventing a counter assault from being effective.

Ansgar fled, fully knowing his father was a far more experienced rider and would likely catch up to the boy as he rode hard into the woods, waiting for his old man to ride too close at full gallop, bursting forth in a desperate, all or nothing charge against the unready Great Knight. Whether it was luck or divine guidance, Ansgar's iron lance found a gap in the armor of his father, snapping off the lance in his side and striking what would be a fatal wound against the man, sending him collapsing. Fear of retribution and punishment gripped him, and he rode hard into the night, leaving the armored horse and dying form of his father, never confirming the fact he was indeed dead. Whether he was or not mattered not to the tortured mind of Ansgar, who had never slain another until that fateful night, and he found himself torn into two separate people, figuratively speaking. With the only skills he knew being warfare, he sold his skills to whomever could afford them, usually Nohrian regiments who needed extra bodies. Ansgar would slip into a blood thirsty death seeker when riding in battle, and find himself drunk and free when off the field. It was a strange dichotomy that disturbed him, but he hid it well. After all, the coin was often good, the drink came cheap, and he was etching out a living free of the expectations from his family.

Routinely selling his skills to the Nohrian army led Ansgar to many dubious activities and engagements, including early attempts to breach and invade Hoshido, foiled due to Queen Mitoko's barrier sapping their will to fight and causing them to stumble back to Nohrian controlled holdings, dazed, confused, but unharmed. Ansgar would ride into many situations, from putting down renegade Faceless to suppressing rebellions with a brutal and heavy hand. Ansgar felt regret for being little more than a brutish tool for oppression and cleaning up the dirty messes of Nohr, but he was paid well, so he kept his silence and rode hard, reveling in every battle while waiting for that fateful arrow or blow to fell him at last. The strike would never come, rather, and he would spend seven years riding hard, honing his skills and drinking and being merry, an unusual sight in often somber and serious Nohr regiments. Soon he would find himself at a very fateful day, when Nohr and Hoshido would finally meet in open war, riding openly alongside the flying banners of Nohr, paid to slaughter every Hoshidan he could reach.

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Weapons: 
Iron Sword
Steel Lance

Items: 

Other: 
The most likely to inadvertently insult an ally.
Has two sisters who he often has to play the voice of reason between, should fortune frown upon him and stumble across them together again.

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