Otik Songweaver, The Skald Comments on self
Appearance:
I wear a heavy chain mail shirt with no sleeves, a wolf pelt cloak his own insignia on the back of it hammer in the front of a song note. A Bloody song note on his neck, tattooed it seems but its a birthmark and the blood expands as I gets angrier, and glows when he is experiencing a boost of any kind. He wears Heavy cotton pants and a belt with his insignia in gold slightly tinted red. Scars are all hidden, and or healed well enough you cant see them without close inspection; His arms are heavily scarred though. His height is an amazing Seven Foot Eleven Inches. Almost Eight feet tall. Very Muscular, broad shoulders and.Built almost perfectly.
About Me:
The best place to start is at the beginning of my life, when I was born my mother holding me in her eyes as the blood was wiped away, the birthmark which set my path in life, taking so many things from me. My childhood, my chance at a more mainstream lifestyle, my teenage years. It forced me into a very early adulthood and the only comfort I had was my father. My mother a dagger above her head, the dagger that cut my umbilical cord already bloody, ready to strike me down as I cried there a newborn. If it was not for my father i would be dead, he quickly ran up to her catching her hand firmly as the blade was millimeters away from me. He did all he could do, take me and leave quickly to a private cabin deep in the frozen woods that no one knew about or would ever find about. My father the great skald and fighter he was, sang to me songs of power when I was young and he was raising me feeding me by bottle. I thought he was singing out of love, he was but... also he was training me burning those words into the back of my mind. Being a baby our minds sponges, I remember every single word to those songs. And can sing them all with a very little margin for error causing failure. It does happen though more then I would like, and sometimes at very inconvenient times, but anyways back to the story. As I grew up, the first moment I could walk combat lessons commenced, 3 years old already wielding a sword and not a blunted one ether it was quite sharp as I quickly found out. By the time I was 5 I was already strong and could probably kill most men, with the songs of power that is. When i turned 9 intensive homeschooling was enforced, I had to learn everything about everything as fast as I could my father said. When I finished my teenage years at the age of twenty-one, I was a very well trained, and very intelligent. All I lacked was experience, so my father a famous skald with connections had me join a very militaristic leader, and be his Axe and guide to victory. I was raised well for these situations, most people would be nervous and scared but I felt the eagerness to get out of that cabin and secluded forest. So I served him for ten years, alone, my father told me he would see me in ten years so I did my best to make him proud. The first few years I conquered and was victorious most times, making my leader very cocky, he declared war on six powerhouses suicide and i knew this. I did my best to convince him to not go through with this, The experience I was lacking obtaining enough to see that there was no way to defeat them all but he insisted I make sure I defeat them. So I set off planning and strategizing, I set up a group of a hundred elite soldiers including me and trained them hard. We stood a good fight but it was suicide, an army of 100 thousand met our petty, 10 thousand. Luckily, their tactician must have just started. My flankers, surprises everything hit them so very hard and only a couple things failed miserably, But that was a risk I took and quickly enforced my backup plan and cut losses before they became to great. I make this sound like we are going to win but the sad fact of the matter.... we did not have the numbers. We must have taken about 80 thousand out of play but, at that time they took about 9 thousand out. The game was at an end we ended up surrounded fatigued, the blood and flesh everywhere it was gruesome. I decided to surrender, we raised the white flag, but it did not matter... A lot of friends brothers a lot of people lose to each other died and most refused to stop till we were all dead. My group of soldiers reduced to 4 all of us close friends, and having close ties together we stood in a compass like formation and I yelled directions and we carved our way out of the situation, and we ran as fast as we could as soon as we were free from the main mass. Since i was forbidden to use all magic and songs, It pained me to see each on of my close friends get picked off one by one. I dove into a pile of bodies and laid in wait for the slaughter to end. Night came and in the deepest of it sounds of battle ended, the occasional scream of the wounded or the Dieing moans being silenced I snuck past them and made my way back to my leader. When I arrived there he patted me on the back and told me I did to well, and a proud honored smile on his face before he said. Cause of the losses we caused the balances of power to even out and shift causing times of constant war and struggling for the top. I spent a great many years as a mercenary after that, no leader to follow I set myself as my own leader. At the age of 32 I finally decided I was ready to confront my father again, as I arrived at the cabin he dropped what he was doing and stood tall grinning. After catching up and telling him of my accomplishments, losses and pretty much everything that happened to me which took a great many months to tell him it all. He embraced me tight in tears, He told me how proud he was of me and then told me of the mark on my neck. A forgotton prophecy, a false one but it can and will probably come back to get me, he revealed my Lineage then, a king of kings. A line that goes back into the most ancient of times, but it did not matter we were to survive and to only take that tittle when we are ready. When i say we i mean our blood, if its not me it will be my son and so on and so on. I spent the next year in a relaxed state before my next path in life was set for me to tread however I wish. An old friend of my father asked him to send me with a mercenary and help her on her quest. Of coarse me and my father discussed it but we were both quick to say it was time for me to move on and this may present a great many oportunities. I found out the mercenaries name was Leila Barmeril.
I wear a heavy chain mail shirt with no sleeves, a wolf pelt cloak his own insignia on the back of it hammer in the front of a song note. A Bloody song note on his neck, tattooed it seems but its a birthmark and the blood expands as I gets angrier, and glows when he is experiencing a boost of any kind. He wears Heavy cotton pants and a belt with his insignia in gold slightly tinted red. Scars are all hidden, and or healed well enough you cant see them without close inspection; His arms are heavily scarred though. His height is an amazing Seven Foot Eleven Inches. Almost Eight feet tall. Very Muscular, broad shoulders and.Built almost perfectly.
About Me:
The best place to start is at the beginning of my life, when I was born my mother holding me in her eyes as the blood was wiped away, the birthmark which set my path in life, taking so many things from me. My childhood, my chance at a more mainstream lifestyle, my teenage years. It forced me into a very early adulthood and the only comfort I had was my father. My mother a dagger above her head, the dagger that cut my umbilical cord already bloody, ready to strike me down as I cried there a newborn. If it was not for my father i would be dead, he quickly ran up to her catching her hand firmly as the blade was millimeters away from me. He did all he could do, take me and leave quickly to a private cabin deep in the frozen woods that no one knew about or would ever find about. My father the great skald and fighter he was, sang to me songs of power when I was young and he was raising me feeding me by bottle. I thought he was singing out of love, he was but... also he was training me burning those words into the back of my mind. Being a baby our minds sponges, I remember every single word to those songs. And can sing them all with a very little margin for error causing failure. It does happen though more then I would like, and sometimes at very inconvenient times, but anyways back to the story. As I grew up, the first moment I could walk combat lessons commenced, 3 years old already wielding a sword and not a blunted one ether it was quite sharp as I quickly found out. By the time I was 5 I was already strong and could probably kill most men, with the songs of power that is. When i turned 9 intensive homeschooling was enforced, I had to learn everything about everything as fast as I could my father said. When I finished my teenage years at the age of twenty-one, I was a very well trained, and very intelligent. All I lacked was experience, so my father a famous skald with connections had me join a very militaristic leader, and be his Axe and guide to victory. I was raised well for these situations, most people would be nervous and scared but I felt the eagerness to get out of that cabin and secluded forest. So I served him for ten years, alone, my father told me he would see me in ten years so I did my best to make him proud. The first few years I conquered and was victorious most times, making my leader very cocky, he declared war on six powerhouses suicide and i knew this. I did my best to convince him to not go through with this, The experience I was lacking obtaining enough to see that there was no way to defeat them all but he insisted I make sure I defeat them. So I set off planning and strategizing, I set up a group of a hundred elite soldiers including me and trained them hard. We stood a good fight but it was suicide, an army of 100 thousand met our petty, 10 thousand. Luckily, their tactician must have just started. My flankers, surprises everything hit them so very hard and only a couple things failed miserably, But that was a risk I took and quickly enforced my backup plan and cut losses before they became to great. I make this sound like we are going to win but the sad fact of the matter.... we did not have the numbers. We must have taken about 80 thousand out of play but, at that time they took about 9 thousand out. The game was at an end we ended up surrounded fatigued, the blood and flesh everywhere it was gruesome. I decided to surrender, we raised the white flag, but it did not matter... A lot of friends brothers a lot of people lose to each other died and most refused to stop till we were all dead. My group of soldiers reduced to 4 all of us close friends, and having close ties together we stood in a compass like formation and I yelled directions and we carved our way out of the situation, and we ran as fast as we could as soon as we were free from the main mass. Since i was forbidden to use all magic and songs, It pained me to see each on of my close friends get picked off one by one. I dove into a pile of bodies and laid in wait for the slaughter to end. Night came and in the deepest of it sounds of battle ended, the occasional scream of the wounded or the Dieing moans being silenced I snuck past them and made my way back to my leader. When I arrived there he patted me on the back and told me I did to well, and a proud honored smile on his face before he said. Cause of the losses we caused the balances of power to even out and shift causing times of constant war and struggling for the top. I spent a great many years as a mercenary after that, no leader to follow I set myself as my own leader. At the age of 32 I finally decided I was ready to confront my father again, as I arrived at the cabin he dropped what he was doing and stood tall grinning. After catching up and telling him of my accomplishments, losses and pretty much everything that happened to me which took a great many months to tell him it all. He embraced me tight in tears, He told me how proud he was of me and then told me of the mark on my neck. A forgotton prophecy, a false one but it can and will probably come back to get me, he revealed my Lineage then, a king of kings. A line that goes back into the most ancient of times, but it did not matter we were to survive and to only take that tittle when we are ready. When i say we i mean our blood, if its not me it will be my son and so on and so on. I spent the next year in a relaxed state before my next path in life was set for me to tread however I wish. An old friend of my father asked him to send me with a mercenary and help her on her quest. Of coarse me and my father discussed it but we were both quick to say it was time for me to move on and this may present a great many oportunities. I found out the mercenaries name was Leila Barmeril.