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Ekkhart Dumont

Saxon Huskarl

0 · 180 views · located in Midgard

a character in “On Icy Shores - Redux”, as played by Midnightclub

Description

Full Name: Ekkhart Dumont
Title: Mr.
Nickname(s):

Sex: Male

Age(and how old they look): Late 30's Stress adds age, giving him the look of a man ten years older.

Orientation/Sexual preference: Heterosexual

Height: 5'8''
Weight: 180 lbs
Age: 26


Eye color(s): Brown


Body build(slim, muscular, etc.): Muscular, scarred.
Body abnormalities(Cleft lip etc.): None


Hair color(s): Dark brown/black
Hair length: Short

Complexion: Light skinned
Patterns/designs(on skin/fur and where they are, such as a zebra stripe pattern):
Scars: There are long shallow scars along his back, marks of past abuse as well as several in many places on his body that point towards his surviving several battles.
Birthmarks(and what they are/were): none
Tattoos(what they are and where): none
Piercings(what they are and where): none

Image

Mental state: He suffers from mild paranoia and anxiety that drives him to be vigilant and wary at all times. It also causes extreme distrust of strangers.
Personality snapshot: Anyone who observed Ekkhart for any length of time would see a quiet, honest man. He is rarely friendly but often kind, especially towards women and children, but he treats other men with distrust hidden behind the mask of a gruff veteran of many battles. At night he throws his clothes haphazardly into a corner but spends time caring for his weapons and armor. He bars his door and shutters his windows, he rarely sleeps the full night.
(optional)In depth personality: WIP
Most prominent personality trait: Honesty
Best traits of their personality: Kind nature
Worst traits of their personality: Inability to trust

Current faith(religion): None
Current superstitions/quirks: When making a promise, entering a doorway, or talking of the future, he has been known to tap his shield or the nearest wooden wall with his fist.

Alignment(good, evil, etc.) In so much as any man can be good or evil, he does his best to do what he believes is right.

Marital status(Single, married, dating, etc.):Single

Occupation: Housecarl/retainer for Lady Cwen

Special skills(Not meaning powers): Weapon training in longsword, danish axe, and spear as well as fighting with shield and weapon and troop formations. He also knows a bit of farming and woodwork.
Hobbies: He enjoys hearing stories, wrestling, and on occasion, drinking.

So begins...

Ekkhart Dumont's Story

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Brynjar Witch-Breaker Character Portrait: Cwen of Wessex Character Portrait: Ekkhart Dumont
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How they had got here, she did not know. Following lead upon lead they had traversed turbulent oceans, deadly weather and dire . . . folk, to put it nicely. It could have easily been quite an adventure if it was not for their paramount and secretive motives. To be completely honest Cwen of Wessex was no entirely certain when they first set off from their home far, far west that they'd pass as these quite frankly heathens.

However, fortunately for the party it wasn't the first run in they had had with these sort of people. They were 'neighbours' back in Wessex, kept at bay by the people of the land and under the king's rule. As they should be.

Cwen's idle musing shattered as she rolled the dice and an uproar erupted in the great hall.

"That's your bull, sowe and next I'll have the shirt off your back." She winked at Artair who'd she'd beat for the third time running.

"Horse shit!" Artair bellowed swinging himself off the table with his jug causing another ripple of laughter to rumble through the hall by his compatriots.

The eight of them had taken over the scarcely decorated hall. The seven of them had gathered around the trestles to rest, drink and warm up by the roaring fires. With grump Ekkhart deep in his corner tending to his blades. Cwen smiled as she glanced in his direction for a moment. He was a good man of few words.

"You've wicked luck lad." Magen winked at her as he swept up the dice.

Uppsala was a strange place. The cold and snow here was almost enchanting. The same weather back home could chill one to the bone. This place made the Lady wary.

"Your turn Acwel." Kill. A manly name. Her alias in this strange place where no one knew who or what she was, besides her men. It was safer to tie her hair up in a plait with armour and a helm and parade around as a man. She couldn't say it was liberating. Being a Saxon woman she had all the liberties and rights as a man. She owed land in her own right, she had inheritance, she could refuse to marry any man she seemed unworthy. As a consequence of this tumultuous journey, Cwen realised how lucky she truly was being a Saxon woman. Norse society was very male dominated. Cwen understood now why Magen has stressed she disguise herself as a man. A reason she had grudgingly accepted not knowing that the Norse women lived a very down trodden life compared to their Saxon counterparts.

This was a strange land. The Lady could not help but ruminate over and over again. The more reason to find Arlyss as soon as possible and head back to home sweet home.

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Vilhjalma Litsdottir Character Portrait: Povel Ulfsson Character Portrait: Einar Eldrson Character Portrait: Cwen of Wessex Character Portrait: Ekkhart Dumont
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Having already made his offerings at the temple farther up the mountain, Einar was once again playing guest at the great hall that stood at the base. He was awaiting his new traveling companion. She had desired to prepare for her journey up the mount and wished to make her offering personally and in solitude, and Einar was never one to intrude upon another's personal relationship with the gods.
So, as Vilhjalma wandered up the winter trail and paid her respects to the Allfather, Einar was enjoying the pleasures that the local Jarl had the courtesy to provide to all pilgrims.

He was sat on a bench near the hearth in the center of the room, a lovely warrior maiden perched on his lap. The pair had crossed blades at a small competition earlier in the day and had retreated from the dark chill together. She kept up with him in mead horns and was as liberal in tracing her hands along his neck and tattoos as he was in caressing her back and thigh. The pair laughed in general merriment, caught up in the delights of song, drink, and tales, and the boasts of battle as many of the others in the hall were either performing or enjoying as well.

One part of Einar wondered where his companion was and what was taking her so long at the temple, but he knew she was a strong and capable woman. The area in general was hospitable, and nearly impossible to get lost in. He had been here several times and knew it like the back of his hand.
He noted the presence of a game of chance nearby and made a note to see about joining in shortly. A few moments later, his bi-colored eyes noted the presence of a small, meek looking boy watching everyone else. He thought this curious, but his thoughts about everything were quickly dashed away as the maiden on his lap pulled him into a rough kiss before standing and shouting, "I would place my ship on none being able to match this man in a test of strength!"

Einar looked up at her in bewildered wonderment as she made this boast. Such things were common and boasts were especially well received, but he had been preparing to treat her to another test of strength and endurance, not be pulled in to another challenge by the inhabitants of the hall.

Seconds after the maiden's challenge had been shouted, a man clapped Einar on the shoulder. As the Norseman turned, a fist connected with his cheek. Some craven bastard had thought to surprise him and subdue him with a cheap blow. Einar possessed more mettle than that however. He stood to face the man, batting his next swing aside and striking out. He caught his assailant squarely in the jaw. He felt the mandible dislocate as his fist connected and the coward's eyes took on a glassy, dazed look. Einar didn't give the man a chance to recover. He viciously headbutted the man and fully picked him up and threw him across the central fire, and inadvertently sent him into the table the gambling group was seated at.