Odvar Odvarssen
Profile
Basic Information
Name:
Odvar Odvarssen
Nickname(s):
Fist Face
Age:
23
Birth Date:
29th Seeds, 8272
Height:
6'2" (188cm)
Gender:
Male
Race:
Human
Class:
Warrior
Occupation:
Odd jobs
Guild(s):
Enhancement(s):
Likes
Adventure!!! Anything manly, bar fights, alcohol, sailing and the sea, hearty food, cooking, outlandish stories
Dislikes
Thinking hard, reading (he's barely literate), doom and gloom, prudes, squares, perfumes, enforced cleanliness
Personality
The latest Odvar in the large and sprawling Odvarssen clan, Odvar is no departure from the family norm and takes a lot of pride from it - that is to say: cheerful, brave, tough and manly in the simplest possible wood-chopping, bear-wrestling, icy-waterfall-sitting way. And Odvarssen that he is, his positivity and one-track-mind are immense. He is chronically self-satisfied, thick-skinned enough to sustain it, and has a near-permanent, very punchable grin plastered across his face out of it. It doesn't matter how often or how strongly someone expresses annoyance at him, he will still blindly assume that everyone loves him with the same oblivious cheer. Statements that he can't do something usually result in him taking it as a challenge rather than an obstacle, and if there's some activity that catches his attention for its 'manliness', he will latch onto it like a very large barnacle. Whether it's a good idea or not doesn't figure into it at all...
...and that is because of his undeniable, colossal stupidity. For all his love of machismo, he really is a big man-child. He treats the world as if it's a playground and everyone in it as friends or friends-to-be - which makes him irresponsible, invasive, inappropriately chipper, utterly shameless and infectiously happy. A lot of the time, he seems to have only two modes - clouded with confusion and brainlessly cheery. He also easily falls into following what other Smart People tell him to do, meaning he's rather easily to manipulate... as long as one can hold his attention. Sadly for any would-be handlers, he gets lost, distracted or forgets things about as easily as a puppy.
Still, even he has things he holds close and for him that's the traditions of his family and his country. He firmly upholds traditional Valski values, including loyalty, courage, superstition... and racial prejudices. Unfortunately this often puts him at odds with his natural habit of unthinkingly assuming everyone is a friend. Fortunately he's good at ignoring things that bother him. He's mostly stopped thinking about the contradiction, in favour of assigning a lot of exceptions for people he decides he likes before he remembers that elves are supposed to be shady.
History
As the successor of the proud Odvarssen family's name, Odvar was raised as a true Odvarssen. Luckily, he was in fact a true Odvarssen at heart (i.e. meathead with a lot of bravado) so that was all well and good. He spent his childhood happily being taught by his father and sprawling array of aunts and uncles to hunt, fight, fish and be manly, accruing various pieces of quotable wisdom from his mother, and being a nuisance with the other rowdy Valski children. An aunt gave him some basic lessons in reading and numbers but he never got far.
Although he loved all of it, he eventually took a shine to sailing and cooking in particular. He spent a fair amount of time on ships and at docks doing errands for sea-leaning family friends, whom he would often badger to take him along on adventures. Although he has always been clumsy and hare-brained about it, his well-meaning cheer endeared him to them and he eventually became a decent helper by rote if nothing else. At home he often helped his mother out in the kitchen, slaughtering game and fixing up large roasts to feed a village. Through this he developed an appreciation for the love conveyed in food, and soon of cooking as well.
At the age of 18, he left Valsk to embark on the traditional Adventure that all Odvarssen men do, i.e. spending a long time travelling outside of Valsk to Become A Man. Like all Adventures, it was not planned at all - he simply took his axe and a small rucksack and set out. Guided by nothing more than impulse and luck, he travelled from city to city and port to port all over the Kingdom... seeking the mysterious holy knowledge of Man-dom.
Current Story
Throughout the duration of his Adventure, he more or less bummed around drinking, bar-fighting and getting into trouble. Much to his chagrin, he was very unfortunately getting shit-faced in a Mirian pub when the Day of Keys attack on Amedra happened. He was then in Amedra when the midsummer attack on the North happened and helped several Belporters get jobs (of widely varying quality since he's not picky himself). On finding out most Valskis ended up in Cantor, he promptly went down to check on his large family and stayed to attend the Valski mass funeral - in which several of his cousins were honoured - before returning to Amedra when his mother kicked him out of their overcrowded share-house for being a moocher. Soon after Valevo's designation, he moved in to help out the family and construction. It was natural that when Valsk was reclaimed, he moved back up with his family and took a job as porter for the Falk smithy - none the wiser on what the meaning of Manliess was, but still of the feeling that it was righter to be with them than not. Now he follows his family around on whatever mission they take up for the greater good, be that rebuilding his home or fighting off the enemies of Valsk, the North, or Alva in general.
Additional Info
He gives stupid impromptu titles to everyone he likes, whether they want it or not. His own is 'Odvar the Fist-Face' - because fists are rather attracted to his face and he uses his face as a fist.
He is actually a very decent cook though he rarely has occasion to display that. His secret ambition is to become a chef and open a pub-restaurant called the 'Yohoho' - the sort of place that sells the heartiest of food and where the chef joins in if a fight breaks out.
It's hard to overstate just how much he likes bar fights. He loves hanging around in scungy drinking holes as much for the brawl potential as for the cheap and wonderfully terrible alcohol.
He is a mama's boy and has a lot of respect for his mother's wisdom. If he pops out an incongruously wise little statement, it's most likely recited from his mother. It is the women, in fact, who really rule the Odvarssen family.
His weapon of choice is a warhammer (recently acquired as someone got fed up with him using his axe like a bludgeon or a shovel), or his fists. Or his face.