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Aryn "the Ironhand" Ohlund, mercenary

Started by Cambie, December 27, 2013, 12:09:59 PM

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Cambie

__________________QUICK STATS
Name: Aryn "the Ironhand" Ohlund
Age: 32
Gender: Male
Species: Human
Ethnicity: Connlaothian
Height: 6' 4"
Weight: 250 lbs
Occupation: Sword for Hire
Residence: On the road

__________________IN-DEPTH STUFF

Physical Description:
Ironhand is built like an ox, with broad shoulders, thick arms, and a neck that seems to disappear into his torso. He's a homely looking man: large nose that's slightly crooked from being broken so many times, flashing green eyes, a devilish grin. His blonde hair is cropped close to his head, and an immaculately kept beard graces his square chin, except for the few patches where scars prevent the hair from growing.

He wears the typically mismatched armor of a mercenary, mostly comprised of leathers and buckles over a clean linen shirt, and a polished skull cap when he decides to wear it. A long grey cloak is fastened to his shoulders and drapes down his back, nearly to the ground. An assortment of weapons line his body, as expected. Several daggers strapped to his chest, maybe one or two more in his boot. A long-handled axe sits comfortably in a loop around his waist. He carries a thick wooden shield with him.

The most noticeable thing about this man has to be his right arm, which is completely missing from just below the elbow. In its place is a heavy metal prosthetic arm, strapped to the stump and to his shoulder with a complicated array of belts. Thick slotted metal fingers are designed to fit nicely into his shield. Clearly the prosthetic is the source of his name and reputation.

Personality:
Aryn the Ironhand can be loud and boisterous when he needs to be, but also aloof when he needs to be (though doing so is difficult for him). He's never afraid to back down from a challenge, evident from his missing limb and the amount of scars he's accumulated over a short lifetime. He's friendly to those who impress him with their skills and abilities, those who cut him a good deal (the man loves to haggle), and even those who can put up a good fight.

He prides himself in his own abilities as a capable fighter, and especially prides himself in the reputation he's gathered around taverns and inns, where many mercenaries find work. The nickname "Ironhand" has become almost a symbol for him, to the point where he takes great care in maintaining his image and his renown. The Ironhand has become synonymous with competence and a fair price.

Even despite his upbringing, Aryn remains a deeply religious man, wearing a small symbol of Angsar around his neck and praying to the God on a nightly basis.

Magic/Abilities:
The man very proficiently wields an axe-and-shield combination, honed over years living as a mercenary for hire. He's also not too bad of a knife thrower, though perhaps not the best. The additional tactical advantages granted by having an arm made of iron are also not lost on him. He's been known to bash a man in the teeth with it, or throw it across a tavern at an insulting drunk.

Relationships:
Aside from several barmaids across the land that have become captivated with tales of the Ironhand, he has no meaningful relationships.

History:
Born in the slums around Reajh, little Aryn really had no expectations of greatness or even of longevity. His upbringing was typical of those in his position: claw out a living however he and his family could. As a young man he learned the value of money and the importance of keeping a tight grip on every single coin he could. His adolescence was punctuated by street fights and small-time burglaries, the result of one such failed attempt which lost him two fingers from his right hand.

When he finally made it out of the city alive, he fell in with a crowd of wandering vagabonds, learning how to earn his keep by selling his natural strength and his ever growing ability with an axe. When he was twenty three, he was involved in a bloody melee between his gang and a group of bandits on the high road that left him with a severed right arm and an imminent meeting with his maker. A quick thinking surgeon brought him back from the abyss by cauterizing the wound with a red-hot poker. When he recovered, Aryn understood that he could not let such an injury slow him in his tracks, as he really had no other marketable skills of which to speak.

His first prosthetic arm was fashioned out of wood and was ill-fitting, to the point where it left rashes and splinters in the stump of his right arm. It was that first wooden arm though, along with the scars on his face, that had merchants believing him to be a grizzled old veteran of the roads. With the coin he gained from those first excursions, he was able to hoard enough to afford an upgrade to his prosthesis. The limbs increased in quality and in practicality as he earned enough to replace each. Along with the improvement to his arm, he also saw a marked improvement to his reputation as a sellsword. Today, if one asks around in any tavern around the nation, there is guaranteed to be at least one drunk who's heard of the Ironhand.

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