Social Rank: 7
Concept: Fading Man-At-Arms
Fealty: Grayson
Family: Oberlander
Gender: male
Marital Status: married
Age: 29
Birthday: 01/13
Religion: Atheist
Vocation: Soldier
Height: tall
Hair Color: chestnut
Eye Color: amber
Skintone: fair

Description: Those who first lay eyes on Siegward often make note of the stern aspect of his face as a first; of eyes with lightly hooded lids, slanted some, and the crucible of Azure-stricken colors filling a honey-tinted ring at their center. Faded beginnings of crow's feet framing these eyes only heighten this severe cast attributed to his bearing. A long, prominently patrician hook-nose once did adorn his face as well, yet at present looks more like someone had taken a hammer to it and made it crooked, wedged and with a fading scar running across its center with a lightly lateral bent.

His lips are oft chapped as a product of the weather -- of nights spent at guard duty and days drilling under the Sun that made the heat and cold both perpetually curse them with worn texture. His lean-jawed cheeks narrow downwards into a lightly cleft chin that juts out rarely without groomed fuzz, and rarer still undisturbed by stubble.

Since boy, Siegward's predisposition for brawn was apparent as he grew into the man he is today; a man of shoulders broad and burls of corded, hard flesh condensed as iron muscle spreading evenly thorough a fighting form. His torso tapers down narrow into the waist, however, and various aspects of his limbs and appendages suffer visible vascularity whose veins shift and rive with his every move.

Personality: Siegward takes to life with a frightening carefreeness that often puts him at odds with the more rigid counterparts of his career in conflict. He enjoys to slob through things and does everything in his own time, appearing often late or disinterested in most affairs he's associated with- including conversation. This untroubled demeanor, however, hides a man dangerously coordinated at his craft.

His are eyes that fire and horror have seen, like any who have seen combat can attest, yet they offer more warmth than cold and mellow friendliness than inflexible stiffness. Still, there's a grim resolution to his being and a zeal that's present when topics brush either his duty to the Compact or its people therein contained.

Sieg is slow to anger and indifferent to pride, associating little of his defining self to each. That's not to say he lacks in the latter but simply humbles himself to all situations with a down-to-Arvum approach product of his upbringing.

Background: Born late at the heart of the Oathlands to a family of five; his father, a farmer; his mother, a Sergeant and his three sisters, all groomed by said mother for violence, Siegward seemed destined to live his life tending to crops by taking his progenitor's role once his father's back gave. And gave it did.

When he was twelve, indeed.

For his youngest, older sister was already twenty-one the day he was born and his mother a few years shy of retiring with a comfortable pension after over twenty years of faithful service to Valardin in defense of the Compact's peace.

Realizing at fourteen that a life of cleaning ear-rot off of corn wasn't for him, Sieg fled farm life outside the Telmarch and travelled deep East, into the woodlands North of Bastion, closer to the Bonespire than Stoneheart. In here, young Siegward Oberlander found himself in the militia to one of the many Hamlets living precariously close to Abandoned lands, suffering thus yearly raids by the Shav'arvani.

For many years in this town, he took no active part in the conflict- having arrived at the age of fourteen, months shy of fifteen, the Captain at the time barred him from the fighting. Instead, he served as Squire-equivalent to him and was trained beyond the teachings of his mother. Siegward took naturally to violence, and quickly rose through the ranks under what many felt was favoritism from the man that had groomed him from the start. A battle, however, against the Abandoned sadly soon robbed his Captain of his aging life, and a schism with an inept superior eventually spiraled out of control, resulting in a relegation to a deeper outpost in the North; a place grimly nicknamed "Desolate Point", for obvious reasons.

Being sent to one of the richest provinces of the Compact to one of the poorest and most war-ravaged was clearly a punishment, but Siegward welcomed the change. He hoped that competent leadership and a steady stream of purposeful action would await him at this new post.

Fighting against the Shav'arvani, Siegward took part in drills where the Knights surveying them wouldn't be content until their swords and shields felt like natural extensions of their own bodies. He lived beneath unconventional leadership styles, and saw plentiful change in officers due to the high mortality rate amongst them.

Eventually, the Abandoned marched on the dwindling muster of his garrison. Siegward's force was regimented on the western flank of the front line, forming an impenetrable wall against the tribal forces they opposed. As the battle dragged on, it looked as if the Grayson troops sensed victory and fought with extra frenzy to that end. But then Siegward caught sight of a berserking behemoth at the heart of the melee, leading his surrounding marauders in an untrammeled fury soon made slick with blood. In a freak moment their eyes locked, the Barbarian grinned, and charged at him through his maniple whole with axe in each hand, killing all that stood in the way. Before Siegward's head was unceremoniously chopped off his shoulders by him, a fellow soldier pushed him out of the way, his own soul selflessly given for his.

Eventually, the Grayson forces prevailed and the Compact was victorious, but it was a pyrrhic accomplishment for Siegward. Those who served in his shield wall had perished, and he emerged as a lone survivor.

Distraught and with tattered spirits, Siegward applied for leave, wishing to quit military life and simply head for home. He was denied, but taking pity on his plight an officer instead put him up for an introduction to the Iron Guard, in Arx, to once more serve under the Griffin. And so Siegmard did as he was told, packed up and went South once more, leaving the cold behind. Until Winter again, he reckons.