"In the tales of Viking warriors, there were some who were said to commune with the gods, who were granted a fraction of their power. These warriors were terrifying forces on the battlefield, shrugging off mortal blows and calling upon the elements to strike down their enemies. They had no fear, no weakness, and no mercy. Today, nothing remains of those hallowed warriors except for their title: the berserkers."
Afvaldr "Affie" Ljung
, The Frost Giant
Date of Birth:
December 9th, 1993
6 ft 4
When Afvaldr was little, his father would prop him up on his knee and tell him fascinating stories about their ancestors. Proud men and women who served their tribes and the gods, protecting their homeland from invaders and keeping their villages safe. Afvaldr believed these to be stories, nothing more. He quickly realized his father was telling the truth when he came into his powers. Puberty hit him like a truck, transforming the scrawny young boy into a man practically overnight. At the age of 16, he could look his father in the eye, and towered over his mother. He began packing on muscle too, bulking up quickly.
However it wasn't until he entered his adult years that Afvaldr found one of his true loves: fighting. In a drunken stupor, poor Affie found himself in a bar brawl rather rapidly. When a fist the size of a softball sent a patron to the floor instantly, a fire burned in him. Who knows how many bar fights he would have started had he not found another way to get the same thrill: super-powered underground fighting rings. Afvaldr quickly soared to the top, harnessing what could only be described as a rage to quickly pummel his opponents into submission. Eventually, the fights just became too boring, easily beating everyone. Deciding to try a quiet life for a change, he came to Duskburg, finding the atmosphere to his liking. With all this shit going down, however, his quiet life is quickly becoming a fantasy.
Preternatural Speed, Strength, and Endurance
Afvaldr carries within his veins the blood of the Norse people of old. Carrying the abilities of the ancient berserkers, he is granted strength, endurance, and reaction speed greater than those of normal men. His skin itself is tougher than regular skin, allowing him to take harder hits as well. As is implied, it takes a good amount more to kill him.
Spending some of his years in fighting pits hasn't exactly dulled Afvaldr's senses. During that time, he picked up a lot of combat skills. While he won't be doing roundhouse kicks or the like anytime soon, he is proficient in hand to hand combat, often knowing right where to punch in order to send you reeling to the floor in unconsciousness.
When he was 18, Afvaldr's father suggested he get a tattoo, that it would help him channel the powers yet to come. His choice was simple: the valknut. Symbol of the Allfather's strength and courage in battle, Afvaldr got it tattooed on the back of his right hand, at the behest of his father. Now it serves a purpose, as the conduit for his elemental magic. Using the valknut as a focus, Afvaldr can summon weaponry crafted from frost: shields, swords, hammers, axes, spears, and more. Each weapon he creates drains him a bit further, putting him at risk of overexerting himself. While they are made out of ice, these weapons are razor-sharp as intended, and harder than if they had been forged with the strongest steel, yet they can be broken by Afvaldr as if they were made balsa. They will not melt, even if put directly into a fire, and are all wielded with deadly efficiency.
Channeling the anger and fury hidden within his blood, Afvaldr can fly into a mystical rage. His chest heaves, his breath becoming visible as if he were standing in a snow-covered landscape. Tattoos begin to appear on his skin, starting from his neck and working their way down his chest and legs, glowing with an icy blue. This same blue fills his eyes, completely erasing any pupil, sclera, and white. He lets out a warrior's roar and lunges into battle.
While in this state, Afvaldr does not think, he does not feel. Any goal he had in mind before entering the Berserker Rage will remain, but any sense will leave him. He becomes a whirlwind of fists and weaponry, shrugging off fatal wounds and fighting with the strength of many men. This rage can go on for quite some time. However, Afvaldr is incredibly vulnerable once it ends. Soon, all the wounds he received will catch up with him, and all the negative affects will hit him like a freight train. Exhaustion will wash over him, rendering him almost unable to move for a long time. Even with these side effects, this is still his greatest weapon.
Afvaldr is the epitome of the phrase "gentle giant". While his height and build may seem intimidating, he rarely raises his voice, speaking in a softer tone than most would expect. Despite his berserker nature, he is slow to anger. He sees fighting not as a way to release anger, but a way to relieve stress, a hobby, a way to relax. That is not to say that he can't be serious. It's just that when diving headfirst into a swarm of fists, feet, and teeth, his warrior's howl may seem more like one of joy than of anger.
One look at Afvaldr gives away his Norse heritage almost instantly. His tall, muscle-bound body is tempered by his hair. A thick, full beard sprouts from his face, its dirty-blonde matching that of his hair, which usually rests in a simple, short ponytail. His face is a mask of stone, his eyes a hard and gleaming silver, like a freshly forged blade. He traded in the furs and hides of his ancestors, instead resting comfortably in rugged jeans and a solid color shirt. However, the leather armor worn by Viking warriors still makes an appearance, in the form of a black leather vest, leather fingerless gloves, and a pair of scuffed combat boots. His stance is tall, proud, and always ready to go.