• Name: Rörskoðr Skaldsson (Rōr'-skŏth Scald'-sən) [+]

  
• Age: Early to mid thirties
• Gender: Male
• Appearance: Tall and buff, the man is no average joe. He stands over most people, towering at 6'11". He has stark blond hair, braided on top and shaven at the sides, with a long braided beard.
• Personality: He's a gentle fellow, and almost excessively sensitive to criticism, vitriol, and contempt in general. One of the more shy folks in the Order, he tends to make few friends but those he does consider his friends have earned his undying loyalty and trust. When forced to fight, he'll do so relentlessly; but until he is forced to, he will choose not to.
• Brief backstory: Before the order, far in the north where pines wear permanent cloaks of snow, he was training to best his clan's chieftain, and supplant him as leader. He learned how to fight and survive amongst the hardiest of men and quickly rose in the ranks of his people. Upon turning 18, deciding he was now truly a man and a warrior, his pride and his arrogance led him to challenge the chieftain in single combat, in order to back his claim. Although he was a capable warrior, and despite his enormous size, he was not destined to lead in combat nor in the courts. He was defeated in his challenge, and the scars he suffered remind him of his defeat to this very day. Humbled, he decided he does not wish to live a life of pain; not of inflicting it nor receiving it. So he packed his things, and resolving never to see again this place which humiliated him, headed south for the grand cities of aristocracy and prosperity and majesty. Here he would work til he could attend a university, where he would learn not to kill, but to heal.
  
  Today, he's been in the Order for approximately a decade, although he's gone mostly unnoticed by his peers. He's a surgeon, tending to people's wounds as they come. People seem to forget him even after he's tended their wounds, with how swiftly and skillfully he finishes the job and sends them on their way, in a few words. Although a surgeon, he's quite capable with a sword, and has gone with the Order to fight plenty of times. He tends to disappear for hours at a time before returning, and does not appreciate uninvited guests to his quarters.
• Equipment: He carries a sparðr axe to chop any limbs off; a long steel sword to deal the final blow for those in need of mercy; and a seax. For armor, he wears, atop a weathered gambeson, a byrnie and a shirt of leather lamellar. His helmet is nasal and conical in style, and to protect his legs he wears a set of iron leg-braces. His surgical tools include scalpels of steel and of knapped obsidian, a bone saw or two, antiseptics, various tinctures and essences, anesthetics...on and on.
• Skills: A field surgeon, he's there to keep men alive. He usually stays behind to tend to the wounded, but he's definitely capable of going into battle to do the same task. He'll try not to use that big axe until the very last moment, but he is certainly capable of doing so.

@AtomicNut Doggy might literally eat her.