Intro
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Just Einar Things
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Einar is tall (even by the standards of his own people), roughly six-foot-three, and broad-shouldered. He's got shaggy brown hair, and light green eyes, similar in color to a cat's. His skin is naturally pale, and tends to freckle instead of tanning when he spends a lot of time in the sun. Though he's not much good at growing a beard, he's got a coat of jet black stubble along his jawline and neck, and he often gets stray red hairs when he does grow his beard out. Einar has a pointed chin, prominent cheekbones, and a straight nose.
He has a swimmer's physique, a lean and sinewy musculature that he seems utterly oblivious to the potential aesthetic appeal of. He has very little self-consciousness about his body, often walking around in various states of undress without much concern as to who's looking. His torso and arms are essentially a road map of scarring, just the way you'd expect of someone who had his first kill before he was growing body hair- Who's been a warrior essentially all his life.
During the winters, he wears pants and a light tunic under his fur cloak, with his usual thick-soled leather boots. During the summers, however, he tends to prefer being bare-chested and wears his fur over only one shoulder, to hide his sword from immediate sight. When his hair gets long, he'll tie it into a loose ponytail, but he generally only has his hair about as long as the nape of his neck.
Einar is twenty-one years old. When he's properly scrubbed and shaved, he could pass as not being a day over sixteen. But he carries himself like a much older, wearier man and when you catch him after a while on the road, he can look almost a good decade more than he is. -
By way of preference, Einar is definitely more about action than words. Initially as much because his native tongue is Vaasan creole and he'd never had much occasion to practice the common tongue, as because he just isn't particularly talkative.
Over the last few years, he's gotten much better at speaking the common language, but he's still laconic as ever. He tends to think things through carefully before he speaks, his voice gravelly and accented. He's pretty much the king of snarky facial expressions, so even when he's not being forthcoming, what he's thinking is still fairly self-evident.
Being from the Cold Lands, Einar is well-acquainted with ale. He's got an excellent constitution for the stuff and if he's in civilized society at all, he's most easily found at the nearest tavern. He's a sucker for gambling, entirely unable to resist a challenge or a round of dice when he comes across one. That he has notoriously bad luck when it comes to gambling is beside the point. At the very least, anyone who knows him knows that he always pays his debts.
When he's not in a town or city, you'll often find him passing the time napping in a tree, or fishing at the nearest river. He truly prefers camping under the stars to renting a room. He has a soft spot for animals of all kinds, finds them preferable company to most people.
Einar doesn't view things in terms of good or evil, he tends to view them through the spectrum of his own rigid sense of honor and personal integrity. He can brush off jokes and barbs at his expense, but he will gladly duel any person who insults his honor or injures his pride.
As there is no true aristocracy in Vaasa, Einar definitely doesn't carry himself like a noble or military leader (and for that matter, he finds the idea that a person can be born into a position of importance, theoretically without ever being made to prove himself at war, both alien and abhorrent). He's unassuming, save for his height, with a tendency to slouch. His smile is shy, a reluctant half-moon that he generally offers as greeting or in lieu of a proper laugh.
However, his eyes are defiant and unafraid. He stares openly, holds eye contact and dares the other person to look away first.
In love, Einar is far from gentle, but he's the definition of steadfast. He tends to express his affections physically, and more than a bit roughly, but he also wouldn't ever be one to go around cheating on his wife- Should he ever get around to marriage. His flirtations are blunt and to the point. He has little patience for coyness or finesse. Sex and love certainly work well together, but one can easily exist without the other. He certainly doesn't mind fucking for fucking's sake, especially to warm himself up on a cold night.
Having grown up in a sparse community, gender roles weren't exactly rigid when Einar was growing up. Men cooked and cleaned just as often as women hunted and rode into battle. There weren't enough people around to do everything that needed doing, otherwise. The idea of women as inherently less-than, weaker or more delicate, makes no sense to him. His mother still went on hunts while with child, many of his teachers and trainers were women, and almost as many women as men fought in the rebellion. Any other way of being would have been suicide. As a result, he's got little patience for other people who insist on adhering to impractical ideas of what is or isn't manly or ladylike. He respects warriors and disdains cowards, period.
