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Name: Hafrbjǫrn Ráðvarðr (Haph-BYORN - RAD-vard)
Gender: Male
Age: 42

Appearance: Hafrbjǫrn height towers on 215.3 centimeters (7 feet tall). His burly build is the result of a brute lifestyle honed through the art of melding steel and iron, fingers scrapped through the tending of the fields, arms scathed through the clashing of steel and all adorning the flesh which would provide his comrades with the finest of stories. His weight is about 330 pounds and hair of ginger which is only seen at pigment of his beard. He wears his hair bald, yet in exchange his head and arms are branded with the marking of his people. The iris of his eyes are like that of emerald in their hue that blend together nicely with the tan of his skin.

Bio: The third junior of a family of eight, Hafrbjǫrn was the first son of the town's farmer and fisher Hafþór. With two the first sibling being sisters, he was tasked with most of the work and duty as the first male, which came as a boon later in life. Quickly at his teens his stature began to flourish and his physic grew a respectable size for the expansion of the family business. Soon he took up wood working, and much later in his life he began to meld and learn the craft of the steel from the local blacksmith. As such he inevitably found himself selling and repairing weapons and armor to travelers and members of the guild. His life up until adulthood felt simple, and uninspired. The blade always seem to come naturally to him, he would forge his own axe when it came to chopping the bark he needed to feed the flames which would heat his cauldron. He would sharpen the knife to near perfection, when he decided to skin the deer. His hands were drawn to the chisel and anvil, but more over, as a blacksmith, he took it upon himself to learn the sword, the hammer, the spear and axe. If a man would fall at the hands of an animal, bandit or soldier while the blade he forged was at their hand it was because of incompetence out of his part or the soldier. 

Yet he could never be knighted, that blood did not run among him. Steel was his body, and fire was his blood. He later found love and married, he had his first child who began to show interest in the guild. Reluctantly, Hafrbjǫrn forged his son his sword and armor, the finest of which he has ever developed. Such craftsmanship could impress the kings and queens of the nations. However, tragedy struck when he was brought the unfortunate news of his son's death. This tore the man, cause him a fit of rage and anger of which he has never understood. Taking the same sword which was made for his son, he went forth and killed the man responsible in a fit of rage. Hafrbjǫrn was jailed, served a hefty sentence and soon after became a shell of the man he once knew. He had an affinity for battle, his body was his armor, flesh like steel honed under years of welding and toning weapons. Someone took notice of such, and blessed him with freedom in exchange for protection. With his fine paid, Hafrbjǫrn began to work as a bodyguard, and he was splendid at it. His brutality and strength were all enough to withstand the skill of those who weren't potent enough to sustain his swing. 

Eventually, he decided to join the guild, regaining a inkling of peace and serenity. This somehow reminds him of his son. He is a serene giant for the most part, yet a man of not many words.     

Fighting Style: Brutal, fierce without a pause and relentless. His weapons are large like his stature and he has the potency to swing them with ferocity and speed. He's proficient with a bow and arrow and terrible with anything magic. He's the perfect example of a brute.

Equipment:

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[*] Weapons:
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    [*] Two small axes: One for each hand holstered on his side. They are made of the finest steel he could find. 
    [*] Large Axe: His main weapon of choice. It would take the average man two hands to wield, but Hafrbjǫrn can easily wield it with one.
    [*] Carving knife: Although not particularly a weapon. He carries it around almost like a bad habit. 
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[*] Armor: 
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    [*] [url=https://i.pinimg.com/564x/06/2d/4a/062d4abb12925f097e6c96f67215fad1.jpg]This one[/url] 
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[*] Misc: 
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    [*]Anything that comes standard while traveling.
    [*]Forging materials (back at base)
    [*]Always has a whetstone 
    [*]Throwing Bombs 
    [*]Small bag of soverns (100) 
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Skills/Abilities:

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[*] Brute Strength
[*] Forging 
[*] Weapon Savant: Anything he picks up he can use with ease, although not necessarily with a mastery of an art. As a blacksmith, he hold extensive knowledge of weaponry.
[*] Survivalist
[*] Cold Resistant: He lived majority of his life in snow, he can withstand cold weathers with much more ease than other. (Not particularly any ice spells though.)
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Other Information: 

[hider]1. Listen to the GM(s), If you have a complaint tell me. I am not an evil dictator and if I am wrong I will admit it.
2. Romance and Gore allowed, But keep it in good taste and in site rules
3. Now not all characters will play nice with each other I understand that, but keep the disputes in the RP not in OOC
4. Be civilized and polite please
5. All basic RP rules apply to this roleplay: Power playing, Meta gaming, and others are not allowed.
6. The story isn't exactly set, If you have an idea for a mission feel free to pm me the details and I'll try to work it in.
7. Copy the rules into a Hider in the "other" of your cs so I know you read them.
8. Get into your character's skin become him or her as you are playing have fun and give us insight into their thoughts.
9. Try to keep active, in both the IC and OOC pages please. And even if you don't have anything to say, at least read the OOC[/hider][/hider]