Create a Character Challenge #65

[Kitti]

This challenge is one about making characters based on the setting that they're destined for and also just a fun romp with one of the most creative aspects of roleplaying: character making. Based on the image posted, my challenge is for you to create a character for that setting and post it here!​

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This week's image:​

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Feel free to utilize this character sheet or create your own:​

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Name:​

Gender:​

Age:​

Species:​

Family:​

Personality:​

History:​

Current Goal/Purpose:​

Appearance:​

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[Dawn]

Name: Arnþóra, daughter of Þórbrandr

Gender: Female

Age: 10 and 6 springs

Species: Demi-god

Family: Father is Þórbrandr, mother is an unnamed goddess

Personality: Quiet, deep thinker. A pensive young woman with the weight of the world on her shoulders. Her life is a difficult one, as is anyone else's honestly, though she, like the others in her village, was raised to be strong and independent. Often seen as a very serious woman, she has a habit of distancing herself from others. This is because she struggles to understand humans, more alike her goddess of the beasts mother than her human father. Simply looking into her eyes will tell one of the intelligence she wields, though her battle skills are also quite admirable. Whatever hobbies or tasks she takes on, she does not work on them half-heartedly. She is a determined person, stubborn even. She does not talk much, conveying her thoughts more easily with her piercing grey eyes.

History: It is said that her father Þórbrandr was hunting in the great forest that flanks this tiny sea-side village when he chanced upon a deer. A perfect specimen of a doe, her fur perhaps a bit more golden than it should have been. And although Þórbrandr had been cautious and witty, keeping himself down wind of the gentle beast, she still rose her head and gazed directly at the tree from behind which he was peering. Her deep black eyes reflected back at him a look of intellect beyond the capability of beasts, and so he was drawn out from his hunting spot, hypnotized by her communicative stare. As he approached her, she did not run. Instead, it is said, that she became enveloped in a surreal glow so bright that Þórbrandr was forced to avert his gaze. On the return of said gaze to the doe, he was surprised to find standing in her place, a most elegant woman...
And from that point onward, for a while at least, Þórbrandr would search the forest for the woman, hoping to meet her just once more. On one such a trip, he arrived at the spot in which they'd met and from the sky descended a large hawk. In it's talons it clutched a tiny bundle, which it gently set upon the earthy floor before taking to the sky once more. Þórbrandr approached the bundle, only to find a child wrapped in cloth and fur and quietly cooing up at the sky.
This was how Arnþóra came to be.
Women in this village are not treated the same way the men of the west treat their women. Here, women are taught to fight just as the men are, to wield weapons, to embrace pain, to bite back when bitten. As such, Arnþóra grew from child to young woman, trained in the art of battle. However, because she was considered a motherless child, she was often avoided. Her unnatural beauty and grace, coupled with strength and speed which seemed to contridict her build, often held her in a different league than the rest of the children. She could hold her own against the boys. She was unnaturally level-headed even in the heat of battle. She was different and the village does not like different. Singled out, she wasn't given the chance to become social or to grow her conversational skills. This is the reason for why she is often alone and hardly ever speaks outside of necessity.
And now that she watches her father's funeral boat blaze reds and oranges and yellows against the gloomy fall backdrop, she is truly alone.

Current Goal/Purpose: It is said that despite being a woman, should she die in battle, her chances are high that a Valkyrie shall take her to Valhalla where she may once again see her father. To live, to die. The cycle of humans. But a part of her wishes to know if there is more attached to her fate than a human's life. How many battles is she fated to live through? Is she intended to love and have a family? Or will she be called to Valhalla by her mother for some greater purpose? Answers must be sought. Perhaps Urd, Norn of fate, will know...

Appearance: Golden hair, braided over one shoulder. Fair skin, always cleanly outside of battle. A strong build, but still very much feminine. Five feet and seven inches in height. Cool grey eyes with long lashes. A narrow nose and slightly slanted eyebrows. A dusting of freckles, very faint but there. A scar from a sword runs from her right ear, down the crook of her neck to the middle of her collar bone.

 

[The Wandering Magus]

Name: Sarvhik Bjarnisson​

Gender: Male​

Age: 34​

Species: Human Viking​

Family: Deceased father and older brother, living younger sister and brother, mourning mother, elderly grandparents, wife, two young sons​

Personality: Melancholy, somewhat grave, but has a lot of stories to tell of his father and elder brother's life, and is ready to defend his family's honor​

History: Sarvhik was the second son of Bjarni Eriksson, a mighty warrior of his clan. They had been out in Viking, raiding their sworn enemies, the Troll-men of the south. Troll magic was strong that day, but Thor's good will was on them as well, and they had left with many troll-skins and tales of renown. But despite their valor, his father and elder brother fell before a horde of the enemy, and before the ice-storms of their shamans. They were laid upon a ship just yesterday, and the ship set aflame and adrift. They were both great men. Sarvhik had avenged his father and brother a hundredfold, and he had the trophies to show for it, but revenge brings no comfort, and nothing brings the dead back to life.​

Current Goal/Purpose: To show the clan that he is worthy of being Bjarnisson, worthy of his father's name.​

Appearance: strong, muscled, hairy, smells of mead and sweat, wears heavy armor and his father's helm, has his brother's battle-axe hung across his back.​

 

[azure_night]

Name: Taz Marrow

Gender: Male

Age: 85

Species: Halfing

Family: Father is Uldren Marrow, Lieutenant of the Thallen Clan. Mother is deceased, died from birthing Taz. Maiden name is Illeen Thallen, daughter of the illustrious Thallen Clan. Taz's father and mother had an arranged marriage after the Marrow Clan had surrendered all rights over to the Thallen Clan. Taz is an only child but there are rumors that he might have an illegitimate brother or sister.

Personality: Taz is cocky and overconfident when it comes to being a typical thief in the night. Though he has no reason to steal anymore since he has an abundant of wealth, it is his own way of being reckless and acting independent. He forces himself to be the opposite of his father, who is always serious and calm. He tries to put on a smile and make a joke of everything, ignoring if it'd be the right time to do so or not. His comments are harsh and filled with ridicule, making others tend to stray away from him. Underneath, Taz is feeling lonesome and only wishes for companionship but he can't bring himself to trust anyone. He only knows how to push others away and leave them hurting in the end.

History: Taz never had any interaction with his father until he was considered an adult at the age of twenty. He grew up alone in the Thallen household with different caretakers throughout his childhood and he never saw the outside past the gates. He was the only son of Uldren, therefore it was natural he would be protected and sheltered. Starting early on, he was taught martial arts and how to wield a sword. Everyone had expect him to be a honorable and strong warrior like his father. Taz felt the pressure on his shoulders immediately and hated the fact he was always compared to the man he never even met. Around his teen years, he would often sneak out and get into scrap fights with villagers below the estate. The thief guild found it amusing the son of the famous Uldren would want to become more like a rogue than a warrior. They took him in, allowing him to jump headfirst on many missions and take up some lessons from their best scrappers. When Taz finally met his father, he hated him. Uldren was suppose to be someone he should idolize and wish to be like. Instead, Taz only saw his own destruction. Uldren knew very well what Taz had been up to all these years and found it disrespectful that his own blood would turn on him like this and choose a path that was the opposite of what he wanted. Taz was banded from the Thallen Clan on Uldren's orders, only fueling Taz's immense fury and despise. Taz resides within the thief guild, continuing his job errands, while also secretly meeting the rest of the clans on the island, and planned to take over the Thallen Clan and rid his father once and for all.

Current Goal/Purpose: To bring an end to the Thallen Clan and to his father's pride. Taz plans to take over the clan, finding it rightfully his since he is next in line despite that he was banded.

Appearance: Taz is a bit taller than the average halfing, reaching to a three feet and a half. His jaw is very thick and squared. There is a deep and large scar underneath his cheekbone, which stretches down to his neck, the cause from his first theft being a failure. His eyebrows are thick, making his forehead seem large. He is branded on the forehead with a symbol tattoo, a few swirls and in the center a trapezoid, a representation of the thief guild. His eyes are hazel, a glint of amusement will seem to sparkle in them but they can easily cut you down with a cold stare. He has dark short brown hair which is spiked towards the back except a strand of it looping over his brow. Taz looks disheveled but relaxed with an easy going and a "I don't care" attitude. His normal clothing includes, a loose half buttoned collared white shirt, tucked into bulky brown trousers with an odd leather braided belt that has a silver buckle of a fox, and laced black boots that go a little past his ankles.