[hider=Ansgar]
[center][img]https://i.imgur.com/PNPMaQ3.png[/img]

[center][h2][i][color=598527]Ansgar Staudinger[/color][/i][/h2][/center]

[color=598527][i]”Arms and armor are made strong by tempering, or hammering the ever living sense out of them. I've had one hell of a tempering.”[/i][/color][/center]

[center][h3][i][color=598527]Profile[/color][/i][/h3][/center]
[b]Full Name:[/b] Ansgar Staudinger
[b]Titles/Nicknames:[/b] Hammerer
[b]Age:[/b] 29
[b]Race:[/b] Human
[b]Gender:[/b] Male
[b]Sexual Orientation:[/b] Heterosexual

Hair Color: Rust Red
Eye Color: Deep Blue
Height: 6'1"
Weight: 210lbs

[b]Appearance:[/b] Ansgar seems to not overly concern himself with appearances, dressing himself in well made, if not overtly fancy, clothing. He prefers to keep his red hair worn short, to keep it out of his face whenever working or fighting. Having two human parents, though people like to poke fun otherwise due to his size, gave him a mix of his father's hair and his mother's deep, almost ocean like, blue eyes. These often peer out, taking in the quality of surrounding craftsmanship and seemingly forever curious as to his surroundings. Heralding from the coldest parts of the North means that, most of the time, he is sweating or otherwise showing signs that he is warmer than he is normally used to. Of course, the opposite is true, usually being grossly underdressed whenever in colder climates, at least as far as other people are concerned.

Ansgar is not one for showing off, being pragmatic to a fault at times, but as the Arena will no doubt show, he has seen his fair share of battles. His body is covered in burns and scars, the burns mostly from early forgework done sloppy or incautiously and he paid the price, the scars mostly from fighting off angry, hostile Tyreni kinsman during their constant infighting. His arms bear the brunt of the burns, and his body is covered in mostly minor scars. One major one that stands out is a great, deep looking scar that runs diagonally down his chest, from left shoulder to right hip, widest just below where his heart would beat in his chest. The scar shows the time he nearly died, the closest he ever came, yet he bears them with pride. He has hurt, and been hurt, and still stands proud.

[b]Personality:[/b]
Ansgar is an honest man, something that tends to confuse a lot of people, since even many honest men in this day and age have agendas. He will tell someone precisely what he thinks about them to their face, with no sense of elegance or tact, failing to see the purpose of either of these things. He always speaks with an honest tone, the kind of tone that makes someone want to trust him, and he never sees the need or desire in using that trust against them. Of course, this blunt honesty can make him enemies as well as allies, and does not suit him well in regards to intrigue or espionage, but he does not intend to change who he is for the sake of such things. He does not see himself as some great person, just a humble former blacksmith with a great deal to learn about the outside world, but this humble nature also tends to make it easier to get along with others, mostly since he has no qualms listening and letting them talk and brag, or even not if they are not the talkative sort. He just enjoys the company of others, in every sense of the word, and one might be forgiven to think him unable to harm a fly.

Ansgar is not terribly concerned with status or power, preferring to prove himself through strength of arms over reputation and bragging, every time. As such, showering praise on him or complimenting him on this and that might, at best, fluster or embarrass him a bit but otherwise gets someone nowhere with him. He would much prefer someone just be true to themselves, and be proud of who they are, before letting the honeyed words and praise of others validate them instead. He prefers to let actions speak for him rather than boasts or bragging, and rather enjoys seeing those that brag and show off needlessly get knocked down quite a few pegs, something that he does regret after the fact, but accepts as part of who he is. 

[center][h3][i][color=598527]Combat[/color][/i][/h3][/center]

[b]Strength:[/b] 9
[b]Dexterity:[/b] 4
[b]Intelligence:[/b] 4
[b]Cunning:[/b] 3
[b]Magic:[/b] 1
[b]Willpower:[/b] 7
[b]Endurance:[/b] 8
[b]Charisma:[/b] 5

[b]Weapons of Choice:[/b] Ansgar only ever brings one weapon along with him, regardless of whether it is in the arena or not, and that is his [url=https://s-media-cache-ak0.pinimg.com/originals/ef/06/04/ef0604c62e1f0ccb33f7ea0dd6266d97.png]two handed warhammer[/url]. Having forged it himself before leaving, it followed the trend of weapons he always used to defend himself from hostilities back home, and it fit his preferences greatly. Heavy even for its kind of weapon, it takes a great deal of strength to lug the thing around, let alone fight with it, but being as stubborn as he is, Ansgar refuses to adopt a smaller, but perhaps more practical, weapon.

[b]Armor/Combat Apparel:[/b] While Ansgar does own a breastplate, and would normally wear it when venturing out expecting trouble, he has no qualms with the fact that the arena is a different place completely. So when he goes into the Arena, he goes without a shirt or any sort of top, wearing slacks that do not restrict his movement at all but would provide no sort of protection at all. Of course, this also tends to show off the scars and muscle, something that gives an intimidation factor in favor of the young man.

[b]Fighting Style:[/b] Ansgar isn't much of one for strategy or planning, instead hefting his hammer, roaring a cry of defiance or rage, and charging at the biggest, toughest thing the enemy has to offer. Numbers offer little solace as he will bring his hammer about in great sweeps, scattering or smashing apart foes and single targets suffering the full brunt of focused blows. Without any sort of ranged options to speak of, and not being one for the bigger picture, typically relies on others to plan around his combat style. Hit something hard enough or enough times, and it'll stop struggling. Besides that, being stubborn as a minotaur and possibly just as durable lets him shrug off blows at a surprising rate, focusing even more on the offensive. Against another foe just as tough or fast enough to not get hit could make things tricky, but all it should take is one good hit, far as Ansgar reckons.

[b]Magical Affinity:[/b] None

[center][h3][i][color=598527]Legacy[/color][/i][/h3][/center]
[b]Place of Birth:[/b] Anwnn, Tyren
[b]Social Status:[/b] Craftsman
[b]Alignment:[/b] Earth

[b]History:[/b]
Ansgar Staudinger was born in a small village that bordered between two clans of the Tyreni people, the place only notable for its key location at the foot of a mountain pass that was a key trade, and military, route between the two clans. As such, it was a rather heavily fortified place despite its rather small population of actual residents, the warriors of the Clan on their side of the mountain pass only passing through or staying for a short time, usually in response to posturing or raids by the opposing clan. The Staudinger family owned a smithy in the village, the only one there and for quite some distance as a matter of fact, making their trade highly valuable and necessary for the village. Being the second child of the family meant he would be expected to work with his older sister, as the family didn't care for gender as long as they worked hard, in running the forge though she would be the inheritor. Ansgar saw no problems with this, as he had little interest in owning the forge once he was older, a sort of wanderlust already setting in his chest despite his families better efforts.

Raids were commonplace, something that was just an accepted fact of life, and Ansgar would always join in with the defenders once he was old enough to carry a maul into battle. His parents had no qualms with the warrior's life, being vital as it was and a showing of strength to be proud of, even if it was fueled by the wanderlust that had yet to leave the boy. Yet whenever he wasn't training and defending his village, he was still expected to be apprenticing under the careful eye of his father and elder sister, who commanded a far better grasp of forgework than he likely ever would. Ansgar was not unskilled, but he lacked the careful eye for detail that most weapon and armor smiths needed, his hand best suited for maces and mauls, crushing weapons that were particularly well suited against armor. Anything he forged was heavier than necessary, a curiosity that none of his family could ever figure out the why or even the how of.

Ansgar was in his early twenties when he was packing his things, preparing to leave for the capital when his life would change. Ansgar was forced to, alongside every other able bodied warrior the village could muster, against an actual invasion instead of a normal raid. The sheer numbers would win the day, sacking the village and seeing it raised as the force moved on, Ansgar left for dead with a rather massive axe wound in his chest. Anyone else should have died, but seeing both family and friend dead forced him to rise, to bind his wounds as best he could and shelter himself in the ruins of the village. It would take him a few weeks to recover, nearly starving as he scavanged barely enough to survive, before lighting the forge one last time. He would make the Warhammer he carries now at that point, pouring his rage and grief into its forging, pushing himself to his limits in the process of making the weapon. As always, its weight was needlessly above average, yet it was comfortable for Ansgar to carry. With that, he gathered what supplies he could manage to find, that had been missed during the sacking, and walked out towards the direction the invading clan had taken.

The young man would, having departed his ruined village at the age of 24, spend the next five years attempting to track down the one in charge of that invasion. Ansgar got a name fairly early on, having followed in the footsteps of the invading force right up to the gates of the keep that had repelled and scattered the attempt, and also learned that this individual had not yet died. The only thing he knew for certain about this person when he set out was their axe, a two handed affair that had given him the scar on his chest. He wandered south, heading into warmer climates to look for rumors of this axe wielding figure, having heard they were a Gladiator now since their stint as a conqueror failed in the end. After years of fruitless search, Ansgar's wandering led him to Risha, the timing of which convinced him that he should really try his hand at Gladiatorial combat as well. After all, he was handy in a fight these days, and perhaps the Arenas would lead him to the one he searched for more readily than just wandering about, looking for them instead.

Other: 
Hopes to open a Forge one day in honor of his family
Expect a Theme Song at some point
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