"If I were a wiser man, I'd not have need for all of these muscles."
Here's my Cookie (Character) Card:
Name: Bovar the Bear
Race: Nord
Age: 34
Silver Hand
Class/
Skills: 2-H Warrior/berserker. The closer Bovar can get to the action, the better. He carries with him a long mace carved from the femur and part of the hip bone of a giant he killed. The weapon is tipped with two-inch spikes fashioned from silver. Obviously, Bovar boasts high skill with this extrememly heavy weapon and can swing it deceivingly fast. Bovar, however, has a bad habit of throwing his weapon at enemies in the heat of things. As a result, Bovar has developed his own hand to hand techniques. He had a bit of teaching in the Restoration school of magic as a youth in Whiterun and still remembers enough to mend himself and his allies if necesarry. Give him a smaller weapon, however, and he'll think you're handing him a tooth-pick or a back scratcher. And don't even get Bovar talking about sneaking. He's got an unfortunate story about that...
Appearance: Bovar is, quite literally, a bear of a man. Standing at just under seven feet with a very muscular frame, his is an intimidating presence to be in. His brown hair is kept short and he sports a gruff beard on his weathered face. A jovial smile can often be seen shining through the dark hair surrounding his mouth; his pale blue eyes looking down at the people around him in earnest. He wears standard fur armor without anything covering his torso... the hair on his chest being all he feels he needs. On his hands are fur bracers and on his feet shine a brand new pair of steel-plate boots. And of course, Bovar always keeps his signature mace strapped to his back.
Personality: "
Had a drinking contest with meself once. Unfortunately, I won." Genuine and friendly, if not a bit (extremely) short tempered at times. Bovar has been known to harm others (accidentally) with his massive hugs. He's always up for a good laugh or a drink of mead and will do anything for those he calls friends. Bovar is a bit of a heavy drinker. He claims to be able to outdrink any man or woman in Skyrim, and even tells stories of how he has outdone himself on occassion (don't ask).
"
That's quite the mouth ye got there. Mind if I rip it off?"
Despite his sincere and kind nature, Bovar has an extremely short temper at times... moreso when he's been drinking. He does not take personal insult well, and he will jump to the defense of anyone around him, even strangers at times. He once beat a Whiterun gaurd half to death for staring too long and too lustfully at the innkeeper of the Banered Mare. Some may call Bovar... bipolar.
Likes: Mead, men and fighting.
Dislikes: Sweating, shirts and arrogance.
Background: It was a foggy morning in Whiterun as Aela the Huntress was preparing herself for her morning ritual of praying at the totems of Hircine in the Underkeep. But when she emerged from the doors of Jorvaskr, she did not find the quiet Whiterun morn she had expected. Instead, she heard the cries of a newborn. He was left there, on the Companions' steps; a baby with pearcing, pale-blue eyes. When Aela picked the boy up, his crying ended. And the story goes that he has not shed a single tear since.
He was given to the care of Eorlund Gray-Mane and given the name Bovar. Growing up surrounded by the Companions and the happenings in and out of their hall was like a dream come true for Bovar. Every day hailed stories of adventure, bravery and true Nord glory. Eorlund tried to keep the young boy away from the potentially rough and wild things he would learn from the Companions; making him work long hours at the Skyforge and sending him, at times, to give a helping hand at the Temple of Kynareth. But nothing could sate Bovar's curiosity like the walls and the people inside Jorvaskr. He felt as if he belonged there.
When Bovar came of age, he was offered the chance to become a Companion. He jumped on the opportunity. It was wonderful in true Nord fashion; the fist fights, the drinking, the adventure and victory. Bovar was given the nickname "the Bear" after he returned to Jorvaskr one night carrying the hide of a bear he had killed with nothing but the two hands the gods had given him. Life was good for Bovar.
And then there was Farkas. Farkas was handsome, strong and everything a Nord should be. Needless to say, the man got Bovar's interest. The Bear was unsure how to go about such a thing. He began to ask Farkas daily to help him with his two-handed weapon technique and called on him every chance he got to acompany him as Shield-Brother on missions. They had become very close. But Bovar dreamed for more.
It wasn't until later that Bovar discovered the dark secret the circle kept; what Farkas really was. It was a simple task: clear a mine of bandits so that the workers can get back to doing their job. These bandits were not bandits at all. Bovar had not heard of the Silver Hand until then, but he found himself and Farkas surrounded by them. Ambushed. The brandished what looked like weapons made from silver. Bovar had never seen such a thing in all his years helping at the forge. Who were these people.
And Farkas seemed to be growling. Why was Farkas growling. It was getting deeper, more animalistic. Before Bovar knew what was happening, the man beside him, the man he... loved was a beast. A raging monster. A werewolf tore through the Silver Hand forces and for once in his life, Bovar was afraid. He didn't know what to do. His weapon dropped to the ground with a loud clang that sounded distant to his ears, and he was quickly taken prisoner by the remaining Silver Hand; fleeing from Farkas, who seemed to be
feeding on the body of one of his enemies.
Feeding. Everything went black.
When Bovar awoke, a prisoner of the Silver Hand, he was given two options. Renounce his membership to the Companions and join them, or die. He felt as if Farkas had betrayed him. He was a monster. Were they all monsters?
What does that make me? Bovar decided it was best for him to ablidge the Silver Hand and join them. He decided if he ever saw Farkas again, he would not know the man aside from in combat.
"I was once a Companion... until it was revealed what they truly are."