INTRODUCTION
[General Information]
Nickname(s): None yet.
Gender: Male
Age: 29
Race: Human
Origin: Stormgard
Occupation: Captain in the 9th Legion - The "Iron Wolves".
Description
Hair: Dark Brown
Eyes:[/b]Grey
Complexion: Slightly tan/golden from hours in the sun.
Height: 6â3 // 192cm
Weight: 202lbs
Body Markings: Tattoo on his left shoulder of a wolf, with the number 9 underneath. Refers to the 9th legion â âthe Iron Wolvesâ.
Other than that, there are several scars all over his body. Too many to list.
Soldier branded on his forehead. Youâve no doubt from the moment you lay eyes on him, even if he wears his fine clothes. He usually looks quite serious, but sometimes youâll see him smile. He likes to get into the middle of a fight, as he finds his true focus and skill here. A tall, medium-armored man, always carrying a dark iron sword at his hip, he looks impressive as a warrior, less so as a conversationalist if you arenât somewhat straight-forward.
He gives off an impression of openness as well, though, but itâs hard to pin-point how or rather where this comes from. Talk to him for a while, establish a friendly relationship and you might find yourself wanting to tell him things youâd normally never tell a person youâve met so recently. Itâs not magic, though. Itâs just how he is. And youâd be quite safe in doing so, Ragnar sees no point in sharing information about someone, unless it is truly trivial and non-important.
Ragnar is built strong. By no means a walking fortress at all, but his years of service and training have made him strong. Right down to his core. A fine balance between raw strength and agility, as both are needed in his style of fighting. His shoulders are broad, and his upper body forms a v-shape, slimming toward the waist. His arms are not huge logs like that of a blacksmith or a woodsman, but they are strong and tight. His back is straight, his head never bowed and his eyes will meet yours all the time. Ragnar might appear rather large if you stand close to him, as he is quit tall â and when he wears his armor he might seem larger than he actually is. But he doesnât wear heavy armor. And this is important, because you will mostly see him in his equipment, all the time.
Out of practicality rather than a conscious fashion choice, he keeps his hair relatively short and manageable. Same goes for his beard, though he never shaves his face smooth. Itâs nice to have some protection from the elements on your face, and soldiers donât have the time to go shave constantly! At least they shouldnât have. Ragnar is not strikingly handsome or beautiful in any way. He might possess a rugged handsomeness, but youâll find no soft hands, bare chin or soft, plump facial features on him. It is obvious from the way he carries himself, that heâs a man of action and practicality.
In his stride you can see a man used to his armor. As if it is a part of him. And the sword at his side seems to ache for the touch of his hand. Or is it the other way around? Either way, he may be quiet and unassuming, but youâll have no doubt how dangerous he is in combat. Thereâs something almost predatorial about his looks, and especially his eyes. Truly the Captain of the Iron Wolves.
Put him in a room with nobles though, and ask him to talk politics and gossip. Youâll see him go from a hungry wolf to a circus-bear, trapped and desperately trying to get out.
PERSONALITY
[FEARS]
- His friends or loved ones being in danger and not being able to do something about it.
- Dying in vain.
- Other than this, Ragnar couldnât come up with something heâs deeply afraid of. Yet.
[QUIRKS]
- Quiet.
- Sharpens his weapons and generally tends to his equipment when he needs to think.
[LIKES]
- Passion
- Perfection
- Wine
- Women (of any race)
[DISLIKES]
- Nobility (mostly)
- Failure
- Disloyalty
Despite his years in leadership roles in the army, Ragnar is rather quiet. He possesses a sort of stoic, quiet authority and inner calm, that seems to be rooted deep within him. He has a deep sense of loyalty and wonât leave friends in peril or need. But he also has a deep distrust of people, as he thinks thereâs too much shit in the world. In his own mind, Ragnar tries to do his part in contributing to a better world, by sticking to his moral compass and following it. Even if it costs him his life, but he is conflicted on this. You canât save everyone, and there are a lot of bad people in the world. But surely, his determination when it comes to this also stems from his years in the army.
While he usually looks quite serious, a smile or a chuckle isnât far away, but he isnât exceptionally engaging or overwhelmingly friendly when you first meet him. That comes with time.
He values democracy and always has. He likes it when people work together, but Ragnar will definitely also put his fist to the table to break a stalemate. And while his self-control is admirable, thereâs a fire in his chest that only needs to be fanned. He does what he can to channel that energy into anything other than rage and anger. This has helped shape him as a warrior.
When you first look at Ragnar, there wonât be a doubt in your mind that heâs a soldier, but once you talk to him and get to know him, youâll realize that he isnât a brainwashed grunt that blindly does what heâs told. Thereâs a human in there, whose outward appearance has been shaped by years in the Iron Legions. Soldier through and through, but with a brain and a heart. Make sure you get on his good side on first encounter though, as he can be quick to judge.
Ragnar strives for perfection in what he does, and therefore he is quick to make up his mind in combat. That way, he quickly decides whether a tactical approach or a direct charge is the better option. He may not always be right, but at least he does something. On the other hand, he has a hard time dealing with failure and is easily embarrassed by his own mistakes. Itâll take him a while to calm down and then heâll go back and revise, figuring out what he can do different.
ABILITIES
[Skills] As a soldier, his skills in combat are quite impressive. As a soldier whoâs in the Iron Legions, even more so. As a soldier, in the Iron Legions, that has spent countless hours honing his skills to become a great swordsman, he is definitely one of the most lethal warriors youâll see. He has the ability to shift fighting styles in the middle of a skirmish, and can fight with spear, shield and sword alike. There is a reason he is not dead yet, despite numerous battles.
[Spells/Magic Affinity] As competent he is with a sword in his hand, as incompetent will you find him with magic. Simple as that.
[Weaknesses]
- Ragnar doesnât know anything but the soldiering life. He is trained to use his body. To survive. Fortunately, he can read, given his noble upbringing, but he canât really do anything but fight. He has no other skills.
- You might call it a redeeming quality, while others might think it downright foolish, naĂŻve or stupid. But his loyalty and sense of duty can sometimes get in the way.
- Quick to judge. As he does distrust people who arenât wearing a uniform, or people who are clad in too fine a raiment, he can be quick to judge someone based on their opinions and actions. This causes inner conflict though, as he also thinks that there should be room for other people.
EQUIPMENT
[ARMOR]
Ragnar wears steel boots, and steel pauldrons where the right shoulder is shaped like a wolfâs head. His arms are also covered in steel. This is all the heavy plate he wears though, and instead of wearing plate armor on his chest and legs, he wears a brigandine armour. Over all of this he wears a surcoat with the colors of the Iron Legions (red and white), with a wolfâs head on the chest. Around his waist is a sturdy, thick leather belt that holds his sword, dagger and other pouches. Finally, a cloak will hang from his back if itâs necessary. Meaning if itâs cold.
[CLOTHING]
If you catch him on a rare occasion out of his armor, youâll most likely see him wearing casual clothes, i.e. a roughspun shirt and a pair of black pants. If the situation requires a more formal attire, youâll probably find him in a suit (meaning a surcoat of sorts) of red and black.
[Primary Weapon:]
Weapon Name: Blackfyre
Weapon Type: Sword
Origin: Castle Eisen
Was a gift from Ragnarâs mother, sent to him when he joined the 9th Legion.
Weapon Type: Dagger
A universal tool. Be it hunting, skinning, herb-gathering, rope-cutting or throat slitting, this dagger does it all.
Weapon Type: Spear
Length: About 7 feet
Ragnar's Story
[RELATIONS]
[Family]
Daxos Greymane is a swine. At least, if you ask Ragnar. The Greymane family is very wealthy and as a result, Daxos has become lazy, fat and drunk. His relationship with his eldest son is widely known to be rather strained, while he has little to do with his other two children. He rarely shares a bed with his wife. Daxos seems content on drinking himself into an early grave. Respect for the Greymane name dwindles ever so slightly. Some say they look forward to the day Darion becomes the head of the family, as no one has any hope for Ragnar Greymane to return.
Vynais Greymane is the wife of Daxos Greymany. A beautiful woman in her youth, and though she is aging, she is still easy on the eye. Ever kind, ever good to her children, though stern and strict when need be. She married her husband in hopes of a good future and security, but soon came to realize that she would have to be the one truly holding the family together. This is also a widely held opinion and belief, though no one would say so out of fear for upsetting Daxos. Vynais has a way of calming her husbandâs ill moods and flares of rage when he is in his drink. She still looks after Ranissa and Darion, and does what she can to make sure her son will guide the family in the right direction once she and her husband are gone.
Second son of the Greymanes. An energetic young man, eager to see the world and experience what it has to offer. Tired to live in the liquor-stinking shadow of his father, though he will not openly oppose him. Knowing his fatherâs temper, Darion (with council from his mother) thinks it wiser to wait, out of fear of his father disowning him. No one would put it past Daxos, in a fit of drunken rage.
Spitting image of her mother. Just as gentle, just as kind and just as beautiful. Why she is not married yet, no one can fathom. Most guess that Vynais has a part in this. The mother might want to save her daughter for the right man, and not see her make the same mistake as she did.
[HISTORY]
Born into the Greymane family, Ragnar was accustomed to a luxurious and easy life from birth. His father was an aristocrat through and through, spending most of his time moneygrubbing and sipping wine with the other filthy rich nobles. Occasionally, he would also spend his time complaining about his scrawny, useless son and ungrateful, nagging wife. Truly a great man!
Ragnarâs mother was the one that truly raised him, along with his teachers of course. Most of which she had hired. As a result of this interesting family mechanic, Ragnar kept mostly to himself, only playing with his brother and sister, applying himself to his books and studies, as well as staying out of his fatherâs way.
When he was a young man, he travelled with his parents to Vesia. Given his station, Ragnar was used to a lavish life in luxury. But when he saw the poor and downtrodden that lived in the slums, his wine turned sour in his mouth, and he felt for them. His compassion could only have been attributed to his mother, as his father had no love or respect or compassion for the poor. He was a âaristocratic, pompous, malicious swineâ in Ragnarâs own words. But as any young man, he struggled to find his place in the world.
Growing older, Ragnar grew bolder. He had been scrawny and skinny as a young child, but as he grew, his muscles settled in and he grew strong and tall. He also changed. Having seen too much of his fatherâs ill temper and drunken foolishness and embarrassing behavior, Ragnar wanted more and more to rid himself of the noble life his family led. Of course, he never told his mother or siblings out of fear of being called ungrateful or crazy. He did love his family very much, except for his father. Ragnar could never understand why a man that was supposed to be an example, did what he did. This couldnât be all that was in store for him.
So as time went on, and Ragnar kept growing, so did his voice. He spoke up against his father and expressed his embarrassment. Sometimes his father would take Ragnarâs trespassing out over his mother, to Ragnarâs great dismay. But his growing distrust of other people, especially the upper class and the aristocracy made him rear his head like a stubborn, angry horse. Heâd had enough of this and enough of this life. One day, heâd packed his things and was ready to leave, having already informed his mother. His siblings knew as well, but Ragnar was going to see his father before he left. What he told him need not be repeated, but they did not part on good terms. His sister was angry, and his brother was sad. Ragnar made sure to let Darion know that he expected him to look after their sister and mother. The latter bid farewell to her eldest son with tears in her eyes.
Having seen too much inequality and gluttony, Ragnar decided to at least attempt to help the world become a better place. Filled with the hopes and dreams of a young man, he enlisted in the armies of Stormgard, chasing a dream of becoming a great protector of the people, as all the great heroes of the stories he had heard as a child were.
Here, the man he is today was shaped and formed. Though he desperately wanted to, it wasnât a straight way to the Iron Legions. You donât just waltz in on a whim. Ragnar served in the regular army first, stressing the fact that he wanted nothing more than any other man, no special treatment or finer rooms or finer meals. He wanted to be treated exactly the same. Today, he doesnât regret that decision, but he almost did then.
His fellow soldiers resented him for his station and the training was grueling. Harder than anything heâd had to do in his life before this. After what seemed like a long time of hard training and not much else, he was taken on a mission. He joined a ranging party to patrol the frontier on the Isle of Marn. Here, his life was saved for the first time, fighting an orc twice his size. This triggered something in Ragnar, and it didnât take long before he was recruited into the Iron Legions.
Ragnar went home on leave before he began his real training here. Having not seen his family for a very long time, everyone was happy to see him. His brother had grown and was almost a man now, while his sister had become a beautiful young woman. His mother looked much like herself, only very few grey hairs so far. Everyone was proud. Except his father. The two of them spoke briefly, but it was clear that his father resented Ragnarâs decision to join the army, and not doing his duty to his family. Ragnar left few days later.
The Iron Legions was the true adventure. It is the pride of Stormgard (aside from the Royal Guard, who are also partly comprised of current or former members of the Iron Legions), and Ragnar felt right at home here. While his initial years in the army had left him with a sense of disappointment, this did not. He trained with the best. When orcs stirred at the borders, or pirates roamed the coasts, or particularly pesky and large groups of bandits caused too much trouble, Stormgard called for the Iron Legions. They always got the job done. As a result of his determination and loyalty, Ragnar was promoted to officer and was in charge of his own cohort. He led them in numerous engagements and quickly became known, as a man that did whatever he could to keep the integrity of his men. He walked among them, fought beside them, helped take care of the wounded, ate with them, joked with them and generally inspired loyalty. This single idea and mindset, was what made him a good leader. He was never a tactical mastermind, but when you fight with the best, your chances are good. Despite his flaws, Ragnar was still respected. He listened to his advisers and men who were better tacticians than himself.
The army, he found, was good enough for him. The older he got, the more he realized that politics and diplomacy were not for him. Ragnar got things done, he didnât discuss it at length and argue about it, rubbing (and stabbing) backs. This would be his way of helping. Keeping the common people safe, as best he could.
At least, up until the mark appeared. In the middle of the night, Ragnar woke to a searing, blinding, white-hot pain on his wrist. First thinking it was blood magic or some other sorcery, he stared at it with wild eyes. Yet, the pain subsided, and he lay on his back on the floor of the tent, hardly able to keep his eyes open. His men had heard his pained grunts and shouts, and had called for help. Of course, he was brought directly to the King. The next thing Ragnar remembers, is waking in a soft, plush bed.
The kingâs advisors and physickers had studied him at length, but learned nothing more than the fact that the mark was identical to that of the princess.
He even met with the King and talked to his for long session at a time, and as such, was the first person to be found with the same mark on his wrist.