[hider=Tulvar Sun-Breaker][color=0054a6][center][h2]Tulvar Sun-Breaker[/h2][/center][/color]

[center][img]https://i.pinimg.com/564x/1e/d3/d1/1ed3d1e98865f5c90f6b702b11f2ce13.jpg[/img][/center]

[center][color=0054a6][b]RACE[/b][/color]
Nord[/center]

[center][color=0054a6][b]GENDER[/b][/color]
Male[/center]

[center][color=0054a6][b]AGE[/b][/color]
46[/center]

[center][color=0054a6][b]PERSONALITY[/b][/color]
Brash, boisterous, and forthright. His will is iron and his voice is thunder as all who meet him can attest to. Tulvar has little patience for indecisiveness or complex diplomacy and prefers to speak straight or not at all. He has absolutely no patience for incompetence or general weakness and possess an particular disdain for magic users save for alchemists and enchanters. His contempt of most mages, however, pales in comparison to his unyielding, uncompromising scorn for all elves. 

Believing strongly in fairness, he’s been known to give an unarmed opponent his own sidearm before attacking. He also finds the ideas of poisoned weapons and dirty fighting in general abhorrent. This is not to say he is merciful by any means. He will strike down any who take up arms against him should they stand in his way be they wounded or old, weak or crippled. Although he is wholly against underhanded fighting, he is not above occasional mockery of those he brings to heel on the battlefield.

As any true Nord does, he relishes the opportunity to test his mettle against other warriors like himself. Men dull just as easily as blades and so he does everything he can to stay sharp despite his age.[/center]

[center][color=0054a6][b]CLASS[/b][/color]
Barbarian[/center]

[color=0054a6][b][center]SKILLS[/center][/b][/color]
[center][b]Major[/b]
> Block (no shield)
> Two-Handed (battle axes)
> Heavy Armor[/center]

[center][b]Minor[/b]
> Athletics
> One-Handed 
> Unarmed
> Smithing[/center]

[center][color=0054a6][b]EQUIPMENT[/b][/color]
> Full steel plate armor minus a helmet
> Battle axe
> Hooded cloak made from the pelt of a snow bear
> Steel sword he keeps as a sidearm
> A single healing potion of moderate strength
> Leather pouch holding 31 septims
> A large sack for transporting any loot he might find in a bandit camp or deep in forgotten ruins[/center]

[center][color=0054a6][b]HISTORY[/b][/color]
The son of a mercenary who was the son of a mercenary who was the son of a mercenary who was himself the son of a mercenary and so on for generations upon generations. Like his ancestors before him, Tulvar learned the way of the warrior from his father and by the age of 14 had killed the first of many highwaymen to come. By the time he was 20 he took up the sword his father had passed down to him and set off to see the wonders of Tamriel. And see he did.

Over the next two and a half decades he traveled across the world and witness things that were scarcely believable. He’s seen liquid fire flowing down a mountain to rival The Throat of the World, desert cats with more magic in one paw than entire covens of witches put together, titanic trees with entire cities built within their branches that migrate with the seasons of their own power. As much as he traveled to see the world, he also set out to test his steel against the greatest warriors it had to offer. He’s traded blows with warriors of every race and province from Alik’r warriors to orc berserkers. 

In the past couple of years Tulvar has seen hard times and a light coin pouch but recent events have had him looking up. Word of recruitment by a large company of mercenaries out of Cyrodiil had him practically running all the way from Hammerfell. What they want from him is of little concern, he needs the pay. Besides, it’s been a bit of time since he’s seen the home of the Imperials. Why not stop by and settle for a season?[/center][/hider]