Name: Jordr Ragnoth(goes by Jordan for sake of ease.)
Age: Turned at the age of 28 (going by current calendar years), born during the Viking Era
Description: At 6'2" and 190 pounds, Jordr is a very imposing individual at first glance. His hard jaw line, beard and braided hair all frame his face with with steel blue eyes rounding out his facial features.
Personality: Jordr's default setting upon meeting new people is to live like tomorrow is the end, laugh harder than you ever have before, and love your friends like they were your own kin, and lovers like they know your soul. Anyone that has come to gain his trust though, knows that this is a front. Jordr is actually a very angry individual. Bitter from the afterlife he was denied, Jordr has decided to channel his countless years of rage into more productive aspects like his work.
Likes:
* A good stiff drink. More so prefers the blood of a stag than conventional liquor these days, but willing to improvise.
* A kinship that breeds hearty laughter and good memories, since any solo effort to do so has been long and maddening.
* A strong confident woman, a Valkyrie like none the Midgardr has yet seen before.
* A fight worthy of praise and song.
Dislikes:
* Wild assumptions and people talking out of turn or beyond their station
* Dishonesty and cowardice
* The shrouded entity that cursed him with an eternal denial of his right to Asgardr, or anyone that obstructs his ability to find the person responsible for his eternity
Position/job: Jordr is the sole owner of the highest grade mead and ale breweries on the east coast. His employees are well cared for, their work environments ideal and their pay fair and sustainable. His company rakes in enough profit that he can do all of this and still tribute half of his salary to the covenant, with still having enough money to do pretty much what ever he wants and his management staff is competent enough that he only needs to show up long enough to renew his permits and ensure everything is up to code. All in all, the business runs itself. With all the benefits they have there's been no desire for theft.
Strengths
* reciprocal loyalty
* exceptional physical aptitude and tactical mind
* an amazing chef
Weaknesses
* When coming across whispers of the one that turned him, Jordr tends to get a bad case of tunnel vision. He will exhaust any connections and remove any obstructions, human or otherwise, so he can to find them so that can exact the perfect revenge.
Weapon:
Bio:
Jordr's life as a whole was a good one. If he wasn't roving the sea to trade or raid, he was at home with his friends, family, and his love Sirra. He was set to be wed to Sirra before leaving on his next raid. They had the place, arranged everything with the gothi, the feast was planned out and the consummation was blissful and passionate. Everything was perfect.
Then the raid came...
The fight turned south quickly. Jordr was headstrong though and refused a tactical retreat. He howled as he ran forward in the true nature of the berserkers with a weapon in each fist, carving a path forward as the rest of the group ran back, which always seemed to rally everyone back up when things went bad. Then the spears hit him from every direction. After a few minutes of being left in the mud to slowly bleed and die, he saw it plain as day. The Bifrost was coming, the gates to an eternity promised stood before him. Sirra would understand, they even worked together on writing out his rune stone before he left, just in case.
Something was wrong though. He wasn't getting any closer to the gates. He was actually being pulled back by what look like a scaled tail as something sharp dug into his neck in two spots with a growl, drawing the blood from his body. The words then hissed into his ears as the blood fell into his mouth, "It is not your time yet, northman. Only when I deem it so and the keepers find you worthy, shall you find release." The voice then erupted in raspy laughter as Jordr yelled out in protest, his eyes snapped open with a gasp to see a cloaked figure with a cheshire smile and venomous green eyes smiling over his body it's sickly arm over his mouth with blood dripping down his throat.
Jordr shook his head lazily, weakly trying to find the strength to raise his arm to grab this figure. He shadowed man smiled and gave the same raspy laughter as he took a sealed scroll of paper in to the weak grip of his fingers. "Read this after you drink," it mused, "You'll hate me, but that hatred is nothing new for me." It then placed the bloody hand over Jordr's eyes, commanding him to sleep.
A few hours later, Jordr awoke to find that he was back on the battlefield he fell on. His body free of the spears he was once riddled with as well as the holes the spears had created. He was...alive? Why? Why was he denied the eternity that so many had been given in the same light?! Why was he not yet worthy?! In a panic, Jordr had gasped at his neck to find the pain in his neck was very real as he felt two holes in neck. He then spent the next couple hours pounding on the ground, angrily cursing the Fenris and the Jogrmundr as loud as he could for ripping him from Asgardr's embrace. Hours after his empty fury started, he managed to calm down enough to begin the trek home, alone.
After a solid two days of travel, hunger had gotten the better of him and he had already spat up what food he had scrounged up, feeling the taste of ash in his mouth with every bite. He then soon saw an elk than hadn't yet seen him and something inside took over his instincts. Instead of looking for something to trap the beast with, he rushed it with a speed that he had never felt before, overtaking the animal in mere seconds with a new found physical prowess. His fangs shot out as he dug into the beast's neck letting the blood flow down his throat and his eyes rolling back in satisfaction until there was no more for the animal to give. Immediately afterwards, reason had washed over his mind and he quickly scrambled away from the now dead animal in a panic. It was at this point the shrouded man's words had rang out loud in his mind. He scrambled for the paper and read what was written in the old Nordic text:
Welcome to the unlife. Enjoy eternity.
In more recent years, Jordr came to terms with his eternity to some extent. What friends he did make stayed at arms length as the years rolled on, and he decided to finally stop sulking and do something with his life. Luckily enough, this new resolve formed shortly after the end of Prohibition. With alcohol a legal substance again, Jordr decided to make his own alehouse along with his own brand of mead. The new business venture took off like a rocket, and he soon found himself back in control of his life, even if it did involve countless gallons of deer blood and Red Stag.
Years later, Jordr received a invitation to a charity masquerade ball hosted by a woman who Jordr felt compelled to pursue. Something about her stirred his hunger, but it was fought back as he approached her. The conversation they had was very enlightening and it seemed, to Jordr at least, that he had found some level of a kindred spirit in this woman. After exchanges in contact information, Jordr found himself at the doors of the Covenant under the watch of the woman who named herself as Alisandra.
He has been a happy resident ever since.
But hey, it gives you a little something to interact with when you start your post Mysti
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Originally Posted by Anne Bonny
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