OBERON JOCHEM MONET-STELAR ÞÓRFREÐR, SON OF ISIDOROS, GRANDSON OF FAREMANNE, DIVINE RAMPART, KNIGHT UNYIELDING, BRASS-BOUND BEAST AND LORD OF THE MURDERSWORD
Theme Song:
FACE FISTED"We are the jolly giants walking this earth with blades and torches, and these great souls that we've let into Heaven today are the greatest god-damned human beings that we will ever know! After this campaign ends and we're back home I'll really miss not having anyone around who is worth driving my sword into!"
- General-Provost Oberon's speech to the troops after the sacking of Estalia.
[ hr][ hr]
Name[/color]
OBERON JOCHEM MONET-STELAR ÞÓRFREÐR
Nicknames[/color]
Knight Unyielding, Brass-Bound Beast, Divine Rampa(r/n)t, Oberon The Murdersword, Oberon the Ugly, Great Lance Oberon and many others, less known titles and battle-names.
RoleSuitor
Age43
WeightEnough for normal warhorses to be mostly unable to hold him - as such, Oberon commisions expensive and unnatural steeds from abroad, said to be fed with human meat and posessing of devilish strength - and in the long periods during which he waits for a new such horse to replace the one that has been killed in battle, Oberon mostly rides upon a big young ox.
GenderMale
Reputation[/color]
Oberon is a free knight to end them all - while having no lands of his own, the sheer number of sellswords, mercenaries, "honest brigands" and soldiers he has amassed under his banners with his mighty voice, wondrous charisma and fatherly attitude and the great prices he oft requires for his services, makes him a very mighty political and military strength in his own right. Renown most of all for military prowess, might of his arm and his incredible, bizarre, almost inhuman personality, opinions on him differ wildly throughout the lands - many recognize him as a charismatic warlord, father to his men and overall a great, if a bit bashful person, others consider the man a mockery of all that is knighthood, a monster in a barely human guise and a vulgar, vile wretch that is not beyond all contempt only because of the sheer number of his armies.
Appearance [/color]
Oberon is best described as "monstrous" or "titanic", looking like a veritable eight-foot tall mountain to which, like craggy cliffs cling slabs of deformed muscle, bestowing unto him an almost deific strength, his arms thick like wine-barrels and disproportionately long, allowing him to swing his deadly two-hander with wild abandon while remaining safely beyond most enemies' reach. His neck is wide and powerful like that of a strong bull in his prime - there is a rumor that once his enemies tried to decapitate him, but had to abandon the deed because executioner's axe cracked before even getting to the bone - his legs are like two ancient immovable pillars, his chest is at very least twice as wide as that of any master athlete, yet in his movements there is no lazyness or slugishness typical for men of his stature - in combat, Oberon is deceptively swift and quick on his feet, moving with surprising ease in even the heaviest of armours. However, such skill at arms and such a long list of military victories and heroic feets do not come for free - his whole body is a monument to the brutality and viciousness of humanity, deep scars, burns and wound marks covering every inch of living flesh, calluses grow on other calluses, scabs upon scabs and stitches on stitches - and between them, deftly woven through the ruined skin, runs one long and gigantic tattoo - a simple chain, painted in plain black ink, every single link standing for a worthy champion he sometime vanquished. The chain encircles his forearms in triple bands, runs over the shoulders and entwines around the neck, lays like a belt on his stomach, and never ceases to grow.
Oberon's face has suffered the same ravages, looking quite a bit like some nightmarish monster - blades of long-dead enemies have deprived him of his left ear, part of his lip, most of his nose, disfigured his once noble visage in most blasphemous ways. His eyes are most often bloodshot, one of them never fully closed due to nerve damage - rumors are, this eye weeps tears of blood whenever it's gaze falls upon a dishonorable soul - almost all of his teeth are wrought from silver or actual diamond, said by commoners to be plucked from the eyes of a slain mountain troll. His voice is deep and rasping and revulsing, as if instead of air he exhales rough grit, revertebrating through one's guts as if their intestines have suddenly developed a conscience and decided to flee the body - when many years ago his manifold enemies attempted to burn him alive in his own house, he inhaled hot smoke and fire while escaping and has never fully recovered.
In battle, Oberon is clad into a full plate that is something like the fabled ship of Theseus - all men in his bloodline wore the same suit, and through the history it was repaired and reforged and refitted countless times, it is still the very same incredibly heavy and utterly impregnable armour that'd crush beneath it's weight any lesser man - it's name is Bulwark of Arrogance and it lives up to it completely, keeping the wearer alive and unharmed even in the most dire circumstances. There is no chink wide enough for any formidable blade to slip through, and what tiny dagger or stiletto finds a way inside of the armored shell has little hope of harming Oberon himself! As a decoration, Oberon proudly wears a cloak sewn out of flags and banners of the champions that have fallen or yielded before his might.
His weapon too, is as brutally effective in it's simplicity as it's owner - and just as deadly in battle. Dubbed Murdersword, it is a cold-forged two-handed monstrosity half a foot wide, several inches longer than a halberd used by common men.The edge, unusually for such a weapon, is incredibly sharp on all of it's length with exception of a small gripping space right above the grip, which itself is also quite long to provide adequate handling - all in all, the Murdersword could be seem not only as a sword, but also as an extremely bizzare polearm. In combat, Oberon is unsophisticated in it's use unless the circumstances truly call for it - what good is feinting when a powerful swing breaks any guard and cuts through wooden shields, and what use is sophisticated footwork maneuvers if your foe can't reach you without being struck down by a weapon of superior length?
Positive Traits:[/color]
- Charismatic
- Bestially Cunning
- Truly Kind(When He Remembers To Be)
[/color]
- Plain Bestial
- Easily Excited
- Infinitely Egocentric
[/color]
He is competition, challenge and hubris personified, embodying many of the best and worst aspects of errant knighthood in a single incredibly massive, hulking frame. Oberon is shameless and proud of everything he is and everything he does, oft impulsively indulging in his every primal urge, seeking immediate gratification no matter how inappropriate it might be. He is fuelled by a boundless and jovial vitality that allows him to smash through anything between him and his desires, for he knows that forbidden fruit tastes sweetest - yet there is not a single fraction of actual greed or selfishness in his gigantic blazing heart and his mind is never plagued by hatred, envy or other unwholesome thoughts - Oberon is not bad or evil, but simply larger than many other mortal men in this realm, not only in terms of sheer physical size but in every other respect, larger than life, one could say. When treading over bodies and interests of others in search of his goal, when laying waste to the enemy on countless battlefields for a payment in form of a night with the landlord's daughter, when starting a lethal brawl simply for the last mug of mead, he holds no spite for those he crushes - he simply does not notice them, living in a moment, caring for this particular time he spends on earth to feel the best, he is unconcerned by rampant destruction his presence often brings for he does not consider anything but the present, a satiated serenity of a well-fed bear that is often mistaken for flippant, arrogant largesse.
Knight Unyielding is stubborn and willful indeed, but despite that is not at all cruel, instead being simply ignorant and oblivious to the pains of other beings - his pride allows nothing to stand in the way of his goals, few and shallow though they often are, crushing all who'd oppose him with overwhelming and brutal power - but unlike many others of his kind, does it without their sadistic pleasure. Surprisingly, such behavior makes for a great difference, as he posesses only companions and faithful battle-brothers instead of envious valets and sychophantic subordinates and is able to be kind, merciful and generous without any ulterior motive - indeed, when someone finally manages to capture his attention and direct it towards the horrible collateral damage he causes while living, Oberon is immediately overtaken by earnest, honest grief and guilt, ready and willing to mend his wrongs, just to forget about that the moment he rides away from the people whose lives he has broken and then, to the best of his ability, fixed again.
Competition and challenge especially rouse him, for he finds joy in trampling imitators and parading his awesome might, earnestly hoping every time that someone would best him, thusly allowing Him to demonstrate his great generosity and fighting spirit by honorably accepting the defeat and rewarding the winner with his friendship and companionship. In this humorous, grotesque parody of humility and in face of the coming grand ball, he has decided that it'd be a great time to seek out new and incredibly interesting challenge in form of competing with other mighty men not only in strength of arm, but also in courting techniques, mastery of etiquette and belles lettres - and while he accepts that he is very, very far from being smart, witty or quick-thinking, he believes that his warlord's charisma, honesty and sheer determination will at very least earn him respect and admiration, if not the hand of one of the brides..
Likes[/color]
- Fighting
- Winning
- Indulging In Base Human Pleasures
- Denying The Authorities
[/color]
- Mulled Wine
- Prolonged Periods Of Inactivity
- Thinking About Consequences
- Cowardly Warriors
[/color]
- Fighting
- Winning
- Not Losing
- Dancing
- Metalworking
- Romantic Poetry, which always touches the finest strings of his impressionable soul
[/color]
- Formal Etiquette
- Advanced Military Tactics, Strategy&Logistics
- Command of Mixed Units
- Technical Acumen In The Field Of Siege Weaponry Construction&Operation
- Incredible Physical Strength&Endurance
[/color]
- Right Eye Weeps Blood When Oberon Is Truly Agitated.
- Pinky Of The Left Hand Can't Unfold From The Balled Fist Due To Nerve Damage
- Has A Small Dog He Is Incredibly Attached To
[/color]
- Beautiful Uninhibited Consorts
- Exotic Substances&Quality Alcohol
- Concept Of Retreating To Save One's Life
[/color]
There truly are no things that Oberon fears - only things which he, deep in his soul, does not understand or refuses to accept as a part of this world. One of such things is the concept of "stopping" - Oberon can not imagine himself being calm and consciously refusing form movement and action, the very thought is unspeakably abhorrent to himself. If at any point in his life he becomes hopelessly sick, bound to a bed or somehow else incapacitated, he would, without a moment's hesitation, bite off his own tongue. Similarly, even during simply periods of somewhat-prolonged rest, the Knight Unyielding grows more and more agitated and worried about the things he is missing while just lying in here. Basically, Oberon begins to experience some emotion close in it's action to fear and strong anxiousness whenever he stops living his glorious life to the fullest for enough time to start thinking about some sufficiently complex matters.