Surtr Eyvindr's page

Surtur can look obsessive over his "fight." And that's true. He awaits his calling with baited breath. The Eyvindur clans focus on destiny, chance, and serendipity rubbed off on Surtur. Truthfully, he takes solace in the idea that it will be his blade that protects his home once and for all. The idea that the other group that's moved into his home is a threat is an idea he cannot, or maybe will not shake. But he's seen enough years to learn how to enjoy himself. He'd have gone mad if not for music. The northman found himself working with his hands from a young age, and he's always willing to learn, and teach, more.

Surtur's easy to spot in a crowd, the loudest, most average sized man is gonna be him. He's never loud "at" people if that makes sense. Not unless they've crossed his kin. When that happens, it's as if his voice funnels into some kind of... anger wave. However, this fuse is a long burning one, and anyone aside from enemies will find a man who's easy to get along with, and happy to share what he has, whether a physical object, or a way to get just a little bit more out of an engine.

Surtur is average sized for most men, but among his home clan he was always considered small. His bulky choice of clothing and bushy well-kept beard give an impression of stoutness. You don't get to live on the belt without developing some muscle, but he was always lean. He can lift with the best of them, but it doesn't show unless he's in action. His skin doesn't tan well in the sun, but by the good graces of genetics his ifrit heritage does the job for him, always keeping Surturs skin a light bronze. If one looks closely, his hair smolders on occasions. This effect erupts into a bright ember during his battle-chants. By far the most obvious sign of his otherworldly heritage is the dull-orange glow in his eyes, streaked with embers.

Fire Across the Sky

From the islands called the Belt I came. We Eyvindurs were the oldest inhabitants in the Belt, moving on up when the islands started floating too close to the Churn for comfort. For our part, that usually means when the snow stops falling. For a while things were good, and occasionally someone like myself was born, someone touched by "the sun above" our old folks would say. Supposedly it's a good omen. For the longest time that never made no sense to me. I've always jus' been Surtur, always will be. I caught on quick with hand workin'. Was always proud of that. Movin' from place to place means that if ya can't keep our ship's workin' the least ya can do is learn how to defend 'em. Learned some of that too, for good measure. I practiced with every weapon we had, even them beat-up gun's we keep around for who-knows-why. Got good at pullin' the best out of people around me too. "Adrenaline rush" ain't adequate to describe it. I didn't understand why some of the other folks called me "part-time redhead" 'til well after they stopped.

And so it went. Day after day, we'd meet the occasional traveler. Some wanted to trade, some came to learn about our ships. We had a signature style we liked; long and narrow, shallow draughts make it easy to grapple down and land. Sometimes they wanted directions to some certain shattered plateau. Lotta folks never make it back. Eventually, we got more people than usual. And they didn't wanna leave. The "Oss." Said they came from the far north. How much further north can ya go? Maybe that's why they wanted the Belt. Didn't care at the time. Neither did my clansmen. But they were more than happy to push our hospitality. So we pushed back. Next thing I knew, word was skirmishes were breaking out in our tiny drifitin' home.

But one night, an' you can call me crazy, believe you me I've heard it before. One night, I had the most vivid thing come to me in a dream. I couldn't tell quite what it was, but I knew what it was meant for: War. Winnin' a war before it starts. It was a weapon, and a chanting voice came with the package. It repeated "au" over an' over. "Au." There was some power in that sound that I could feel in my soul. By some grace above I was the one who saw the weapon, an' heard the arcane chant. The Eyvindur clan has always been taught to follow our place in the natural order of things. Fate of the predestined variety was the favorite pastime to ponder. Old folks would say "Many can't see their fate. They struggle against ghosts of their own making. Let yourself be free of the burden." Feh, what could they understand? Getting to see my fate, I knew my calling. An' so I left. Always did want to see the curved swords they had in the west, "sabers" or "cutlasses?" Maybe some new landings too. The plateaus were full of them, so the travelers we met said. I got my chance.

A lotta times passed. Been on a lot of ships since then. Leared more 'n I bargained for. Like what counts fer a pirate 'round the southern parts. Don't take much. Get a bounty on yer head for headbuttin' the wrong guy. Surprisin'ly the war with the Empire an' the 'lition finally died down. Could scarcely believe it at first. I spent all that time dodgin' drafts whilst still lookin' fer information in libraries, an' just like that. Gone. Wonder if that bounty from the Empire's still valid? Letters from home stopped coming, and from the look of things, the years did too. I ain't aged a day since I left. Heh, maybe I'm one a the old folks now. But I hear enough. The fight with our invaders is coming. And I know I'll be ready for damn sure. Unless I get killed first, but that'd just be embarrassing.