[@Dark Cloud]


[hider=Sigmar Frostborn (WIP)]

[center][color=6ecff6][b][i]"I was born in a land of ice and snow.  My steel is as cold as the northern wind, and my heart is as fierce as the wolf."[/i][/b][/color]

[img]https://images-wixmp-ed30a86b8c4ca887773594c2.wixmp.com/f/389d23ab-2dab-47a1-ba04-4fc37a688411/d4bcjlf-a90c482b-e1fd-4be8-a8f1-bcdcfd2d6414.jpg/v1/fill/w_800,h_897,q_75,strp/viking_warrior_by_michaeldaviniart_d4bcjlf-fullview.jpg?token=eyJ0eXAiOiJKV1QiLCJhbGciOiJIUzI1NiJ9.eyJzdWIiOiJ1cm46YXBwOjdlMGQxODg5ODIyNjQzNzNhNWYwZDQxNWVhMGQyNmUwIiwiaXNzIjoidXJuOmFwcDo3ZTBkMTg4OTgyMjY0MzczYTVmMGQ0MTVlYTBkMjZlMCIsIm9iaiI6W1t7ImhlaWdodCI6Ijw9ODk3IiwicGF0aCI6IlwvZlwvMzg5ZDIzYWItMmRhYi00N2ExLWJhMDQtNGZjMzdhNjg4NDExXC9kNGJjamxmLWE5MGM0ODJiLWUxZmQtNGJlOC1hOGYxLWJjZGNmZDJkNjQxNC5qcGciLCJ3aWR0aCI6Ijw9ODAwIn1dXSwiYXVkIjpbInVybjpzZXJ2aWNlOmltYWdlLm9wZXJhdGlvbnMiXX0.IoGdFIFkZItRoFqiEMj2d1IRoU--O-RTSNgEoM-WWe4[/img]

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[img]https://fontmeme.com/permalink/220312/4d12db08043482153ddb1d94ae1e2a23.png[/img]
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https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=VEizKmZlUAw[/center]

[center][h3][u][color=6ecff6]Name:[/color][/u][/h3]
[b][i]Sigmar Frostborn, Son of Hrolfdir, Gray Wolf of the North[/i][/b]

[h3][u][color=6ecff6]Race/Gender:[/color][/u][/h3]
[b][i]Human/Male[/i][/b]

[h3][u][color=6ecff6]Physical Appearance:[/color][/u][/h3]
[b][i]Sigmar stands a few heads taller than most men at 6'5'' and weighs around 290 lbs.  His body, honed and chiseled by years of warfare, bears many scars and abrasions, as well as several markings.  He has long, stringy blonde hair and a beard ending in a firmly knotted braid.  His left eye, which is missing, has a long, jagged scar over it.[/i][/b]

[h3][u][color=6ecff6]Background:[/color][/u][/h3]
[b][i]The scars on Sigmar's body and face tell the story of a man.  A man who had to fight for everything he once had...only to lose it all in one fell swoop.  He remembers the day they came, how the crows cawed and cackled fluttering through the gray skies above.  The pungent smell of smoke mingling with the iron scent of blood in the air.  

He remembers racing through the snow, pushing his way through the thick pines and evergreens, the columns of black smoke billowing into the heavens.  Then came the screams, such...horrible, dreadful sounds.  He emerged from the forest...but it was too late.  Bodies lay everywhere, some mangled beyond all comprehension, bodies of loved ones, of kin...their faces frozen in their last moments of terror, arrows like reeds sticking up from their badly burned and mutilated flesh.

His wolven eyes fell upon the men who did this, then suddenly...everything went black.

When he awoke, they were all dead, torn to pieces, the snow dyed red with their blood and sinew.  The flames had long subsided, thatched huts and longhouses left smoldering, piles of ash and burnt wood forever smoldering in the chilling northern breeze.

He arose to his feet, taking it all in, a stray tear streaming down his scarred cheek.  It was gone...everything.  He had nothing left. 
 No choice but to leave, to wander this world alone, forever haunted, forever scarred and broken.[/i][/b]

[h3][u][color=6ecff6]Personality:[/color][/u][/h3]
[b][i]Everywhere Sigmar goes, he carries the painful memories of loss, his regret not to have saved those he loved, and his absolute hatred for any who commit the same foul atrocities upon others.  He's a man of few words, but when he speaks, he speaks from the heart.  He values honor and loyalty most and frowns at cowardice. 
 In battle, he is relentless towards his enemies.  He will spare no one the bite of his steel.[/i][/b]

[h3][u][color=6ecff6]Inventory:[/color][/u][/h3]
[b][i]Weapon:[/i][/b]
-One handed war axe

[b][i]Clothing & Armor:[/i][/b]
-Studded leather brigandine
-Round shield
-Wool Tunic & Pants
-Fur Cloak
-Fur lined hide boots

[b][i]Equipment:[/i][/b]
-Standard leather satchel w/rations
-Goatskin of water
-Tankard

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