GrampaScoosh

Ivarr was born in a small collection of cabins in the forests west of the Grand Kingdom of Urguan. Born to Bjorn and Ela, Ivarr watched his mother tend to the small farm of their humble community. While his father Bjorn, would work as a lumberjack, he would also spend a lot of time teaching the men and boys how to use a sword. Bjorn being an ex-swordsman for the Holy Orenian Empire. Bjorn spent a lot more time focusing on training his son Ivarr, promising that "One day you ill earn this sword from me." Ivarr would often join Bjorn on hunting trips, Ivarr found it easy killing smaller prey, but when coming against larger animals he always failed. Ivarr could always see the disappointment in Bjorn's eyes. When Ivarr was 15, he awoke to the blood curdling screams of his neighbours. In his sleepy daze he watches his father rush out of the cabin, sword in hand. Ivarr wanted to take up arms and fight alongside his father but when he seen the body of his mother lying dead just outside the front door, he just couldn't move. When the noise of swords clashing died down, he crawled to the door and watched his father crawling to him. "Ivarr.. Help me.." he'd plead. Ivarr still couldn't get past his shock and watched in horror as a bandit rammed Bjorn's own sword through his back. Ivarr screamed out in anger catching the attention of the bandit, but it was too late. Bjorn was dead and the bandit lobbed his fathers sword at Ivarrs face, passing his face but was close enough to slash his face and his right eye. Years later Ivarr is a Nomad. Traveling from kingdom to kingdom. Enjoying life away from confines of his small community. Still suffering from flashes of his familys slaughter, he often acts out in fits of depressing and anger, but only sometimes. When he sees a new place that he's added to his list, he keeps a big cheesy grin.