Egil, Siegfried

[Guest]

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CASE FILE: Alchemist/Ciel Militant

"The future holds despair and joy for my kin..."
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FULL NAME:
→ Siegfried Egil Odinson

AGE:
→ 86

SEX:
→ Male

BIRTH PLACE:
→ Aevadaour, Gelemorté

RACE:
→ Lokhyn

DATE OF BIRTH:
→ 16th January, 1926

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HEIGHT:
→ 7" 7'.

WEIGHT:
→ 163kg

PICTURE:
→

REGULAR SIEGFRIED:

→

SUPER SIEGFRIED:

DESCRIPTION:
→ Siegfried stands at a ridiculous height for such an old man, but he emanates such an aura of wisdom and power that it's quickly clear that he's no usual pensioner.

Possessing a long white beard - so long, infact, that it has to be tied down - and a wrinkled visage lined with innumerable cuts and scars, it's clear that Siegfried is no stranger to war. He's normally a very quiet man, and appears to have a much smaller presence than you'd think, with his tiny blue irises and his bald head, but when you anger him...

Generally, Siegfried wears robes of some variety, and a long cloak, and will be usually found either still or walking - though in the latter case, he does move rather briskly. It's immediately clear that he's seen more than most mortal men, yet for all his wisdom, he's bitterly traditional.

He talks usually in a quiet tone, but when agitated, Siegfried will speak with the loudest booming voice you'll really ever come across, rivalling even that of Einherjar, his eldest son - though he doesn't like to do this, as it hurts his throat, and he has to eat a load of lemons in order to soothe the pains.

Obviously, he exercises a lot to keep such a toned and powerful body. The muscles aren't for show, either. He can bench press three camels and not break a sweat (well, he probably can't, and if he could, he probably would, but you know what I'm getting at).

Siegfried usually wears a gauntlet engraved with a transmutation circle on his right arm, and his left arm is prosthetic due to him hacking the mangled limb off after a manly fight with a bull. Usually, he either keeps a regular metal hand, or an awesome buzzsaw for wartime scenarios.

Once raised into a rage - which seldom happens - Siegfried becomes a whirling hurricane of sheer muscle and madness. It's clear now why he's the father of such a large family - because he himself is huge, and when his anger rears its head, all the gods in Valhalla have mercy upon you - because they all know Siegfried won't.

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PERSONALITY:
→ Possibly the best word to describe Siegfried, above all else, isn't 'wise', 'patient', 'traditionalistic', 'level-headed', or 'tactless', despite being all of these things. The best label for Siegfried alone is 'quirky', because that's exactly what he is.

First and foremost, Siegfried abides by a sense of honour, and if he makes a promise, come hell or high water, he will honour it. This doesn't matter if it's a promise to kick some ass or buy one of his grand-kids a new rubber duck. Either way. If he says he's going to do something, he's going to do it. He's the sort of weird guy who would sit contented outside a store for six hours in the rain, waiting for it to open, because he promised his grandson that he'd buy them a new toy.

At the same time, this doesn't mean that Siegfried is consistently off honouring some bizarre promise. He's a man of few words, a lot of the time; and this means that, obviously, he doesn't make a lot of promises if he fears he can't keep them. He's a man who's been around for long enough to see most of the new Lokheim traditions established - and he's always had a say in them.

Siegfried is wise and well-versed in the ways of the world, but seems to be completely unable to fathom some principles, because others that are far more important override them. 'Why build a dam? Nature has always wanted water to flow this way. It is the will of the gods.' That last line, you'll hear him repeat over and over til you're sick to the stomach of it.

Siegfried is devout and pious when it comes to being a believer in his set of deities. Normally, he prays to Odin, though he understands and recognises that the other gods are present, and do rule their own spheres in a way. However, just as he is the chief of chiefs, he recognises that Odin is the god of gods; and thus, it's kinda fitting, really.

Siegfried also isn't a stranger to combat. When the time does come, though few have seen him fight, he won't be afraid to open up a can of Lokheim-endorsed whoop-ass should the circumstances call for it. He is no elder who cowers behind his people; he will ride into battle on the longboats aside his seven children and numerous combatant grandchildren.

Siegfried is a firm believer in fate, and not one to argue with it. So, a lot of the time, he seems contented no matter what, and is hard to indirectly anger; he doesn't bear a lot of hatred, either, as he knows it leads to a heavy heart (and the dark side). The number one, surefire way to anger him is by attacking his children, or their children, or even their children. Simple enough, really. That'll bait him. And you'll most definitely regret it.

Siegfried is wise, but whilst he's always looked to for advice, he isn't versed in the books that you and I are. He knows simply from observing the world, and sitting by as it moves around him, and occasionally immersing himself in it. He can read Gelemortian and interpret it perfectly, yet is physically unable to speak it.

Bottom line? This badass old man is no stranger to combat or wisdom. He's essentially a seven-foot-tall Yoda, minus the green skin and lightsabre. And he has his mind set on finding a peaceful and mutually beneficial resolution with Wolfgang, despite what the other clan leaders think, hissing as he walks past, calling him a coward to shy away from combat.

LOVE:
→ Water
→ The Lokhyn
→ His six sons, Einherjar, Sigurd, Anders, Ingermar, Asbjorn, and Soren (oldest to youngest)
→ His daughter, Brynhild.
→ His twenty-six grandchildren. I am not listing all of them.
→ His late wife and long-time advisor, Asa.
→ Pistachio ice cream.
→ Big hammers.
→ Stroking his beard
→ Thinking, or pondering
→ Growling to the mountains in Lokhyn
→ Nettle tea
→ The odd philosophical discussion
→ Exercise.
→ The odd spot of war.

HATE:
→ Needles
→ His late father, Garth Egil.
→ His knees
→ Washing his beard, it takes forever
→ When the mountains don't growl back
→ He doesn't hate the invaders, but he resents those who believe the Lokhyn aren't entitled to at least some of their land
→ Guns. He despises them. They're loud.

DEEPEST SECRET:
→ Can feel that his death is close, and doesn't fear it, yet refuses to tell anyone.

IDOL:
→ Siegfried of olde, his namesake

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HISTORY:
→ Siegfried's history is a chequered one. Born almost eons ago, in 1926, to an exiled father, Garth, no matter how old he may seem, he never saw the exile of the Lokhyn people to Aevadauor. He never saw his father become exiled, but he did see him spend day after day inside, as the last king of Lokheim who had ever seen the lands that belonged to them whiled away his hours waiting for death.

And almost immediately, as soon as he could understand it, Siegfried knew one thing above all else: he didn't want to turn out like his father.

Garth drowned himself in the summer of 1933. Whilst Siegfried, as any child would, even at seven years old, mourned for him, his disappearance was seen not as something of regret, but as a new beginning for the tribe. Even the child understood this. His wife died six months later, some say out of sheer sadness.

Siegfried didn't leave Lokheim for years as the clans split further and further apart, fiercely loyal to both his parents and his peers in the clan of Odin. The situation became dire; Lokheim needed a new Jarl, a leader, and soon, at that. So, one Ymir stepped up to the plate. Of the clan of Loki, he sought long-lost power for his clan of tricksters and petty sorcer- alchemists of opportunity.

Beneath his mother, quickly versed in the ways of the hunt, by the age of 13, in the year 1939, it was recognised that Siegfried possessed alchemical potential unmatched of most of the children in Aevadauor, no matter how much it seemed to split apart. His mentor, a man named Soren, took him under his wing and began to teach the prodigy in ways of alchemy; Soren was a wise man, and one who knew as well as any others that, without the clans coming together, Lokheim as a state, exiled or not, would not survive another fifty years.

Despite how Jarl Ymir vowed to take back the lands they were owed from the invaders in steel and might, most were skeptical, at best. Soren saw his newest batch of recruits and trainees - now an old man of sixty himself, a veteran of the resistance against the invaders - as a Generation X. The ones to unite the clans under a single banner and let the Lokhyn re-emerge into society.

Within this group of youths, Siegfried appointed as a would-be leader at only the age of sixteen, he saw one particular woman who caught his eye. A fierce Lokhyn; tall, slender, and beautiful, but deadly with an axe at the same time. Her name was Asa; and Siegfried, no stranger to being social, managed to gain her trust and companionship. In the summer of 1943, they were wed, and a year and a half later, Asa revealed her pregnancy. In the winter of 1945, Einherjar Egil was born, the first of seven children of the pair.

The birth of his young son served only as further incentive for Siegfried to learn and constantly better himself; become a warrior, and emissary. He and a rapidly-aging Soren were now on the right skill level to hunt together. For six years they fought with tooth and nail as the vanguards of the Lokhyn, true warriors, defending against any barbarians who dared to take what little land they had left from them, hunting to supply for their families.

And then, they encountered it, in the wild. The famed Gelemortian woolly bull. The year was 1951, and it was the harshest winter on record in Aevadauor. Many infants and elderly had perished in the cold. The thing caught them in its eye and locked them as targets long before they could take their quarry and run; they knew, just as well as it did, that with axe and hammer, they would have to fight.

Charging upon them, the bull caught Soren with the full brunt of the blow, goring his side, and knocking the wind out of Siegfried. Both dropped their crossbows into the white powder, and had them whirled away; with Soren bleeding upon the snow, it was now up to Siegfried and Siegfried alone to combat this monstrous animal.

They fought in single combat for almost an hour, or so the bards say; the tale of Siegfried in the bull is one oft-recounted around the Aevadauorian fires, even today. The bull scraped and scratched Siegfried with its horns, and, finally, Siegfried dealt it a fatal blow - not, however, before it gored its wrist, and rendered the man unable to tug it away, because of how the bull fell and collapsed.

Siegfried knew there was only one way out.

Hacking off his own arm, biting through the bitter cold and horrific pain, Siegfried pulled Soren over his shoulder, and in his delirium from blood loss, tried to trek all the way back to Aevadauor. He collapsed a couple of hours later, having wrapped his bloody stump; when a search party happened upon him, he was unconscious, and Soren was dead.

Awakening to find his mentor had passed was devastating, for Soren. He attended the funeral blaze, and they sang laments and requiems for the wise old man, wishing him peace in the mead hall of Asgard, Valhalla. And at the end of it all, Siegfried returned to his home, with Asa, Einherjar, and his newest baby son, Sigurd.

Most would cry. Most would be bitterly defeated for months, or years. But... but not Siegfried.

Siegfried saw this as a turning point. His lessons were over. They had been going now for almost fifteen years strong, but with Soren's death, they had finished. He now was a warrior, a defender, a vanguard, and a hunter. He was learned in the ways of the Lokheim. It was time for him to take back what was rightfully his by the bloodline, even if it was that wretched exile's blood.

His conquest began. He recouperated from the wound, a friendly Gelemortian surgeon being brought in to fix Siegfried a new, metal arm, with this odd technology they called 'automail'. As a gift, too, the man, a friend of Soren, also gave him a metal gauntlet, for alchemy.

For four years, Siegfried mounted support. He worked his way up to the top of the clan of Odin, with the others behind him, and he marched into Ymir's longhouse, axe in hand, and challenged the man to a duel. Stupefied, unable to comprehend the fact that he'd been challenged, Ymir didn't even defend himself. Siegfried raised his axe and cut the usurper's head clean off. It was the summer of 1955... and, now, Siegfried was Jarl of Lokheim, and ruler of the Lokhyn people.

He had to do what Soren never got the chance to. A bitter winter was coming on. He knew he had to unite the clans. So calling the leaders of the seven together in the village's mead hall, Siegfried made his speech. The clans would come together. And any kinsmen who argued with this would be allowed to take up arms against their Jarl.

All seven clan leaders agreed. This bitterness had gone on long enough. The son of the exile would bring the Lokheim people together, and allow them to come back into resurgence. Given a warhammer to function with his alchemy by the official Lokhyn blacksmith, and the crown of the Jarl and ruler of Lokheim itself, Siegfried set off into being the ruler of the Lokhyn.

Aging well, Siegfried now has seven children; his wife passed away in a vicious winter around ten years ago, and he mourns for her still, but his children are all well grown up now. However, the Jarl now realises one thing - unison of the clans will not be enough. The invaders are too strong. In order to ensure that the Lokhyn bloodlines survive longer than another hundred years, Siegfried knows he must make peace with Wolfgang - and that they must settle upon a resolution beneficial for both parties...

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TRIVIA:
→ Has late-stage arthritis. Flirts with his doctor.
→ Has many a war-scar.
→ Registered in the Guinness Book of World Records, 1979, for having the longest beard on record (has trimmed it since then)
→ Keeps a mean bonsai tree.
→ As a testament to my own grandfather, has no tact whatsoever and is inadvertently rude a lot of the time.
→ Despite clan heritage traditionally being passed down through the father, each of Siegfried's children is actually in a different clan, and each is recognised as a figure of great importance. His youngest son, Soren, is in his late thirties, so each functions differently dependent on age and skill itself, but each has been placed in a different clan in an effort to keep unison in times as tough as these.
→ Lost his right hand to a bull around fifty years ago
→ Seems smaller than he is, until he goes badass mode.
→ Speaks Lokhyn, and nothing else.

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ALIAS:
→ Ross

OTHER CHARACTERS:
→ Ayden Derocha, Balthazar, Marcus Frostbrook, Zen Howler, Alastair Carson, Nazario Alvarez, Leon Eames IV, and King

CREATOR'S COMMENTS:
→ Will die by the end of the mission, so I count him as #8.5.

FACE CLAIM:

Code:

[b]BLEACH[/b]/[i]yamamoto-genryuusai shigekuni[/i]

CUSTOM RANK:
→ ODIN'S MIGHTY FIST

OFFICIAL TITLE:
→ Elder - The Elder Alchemist

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[Guest]

This is finished, but his alchemy isn't. ^_^

[Guest]

Scratch that. Alchemy's finished. FIRE AWAY.

[Dai]

A P P R O V E D

Looks alright to me. :3

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