Sigurd Valason (SEE-gurd VAH-lah-son)

Sigurd is lean, athletic, and built for speed over brute strength. Standing at 6’2” and 200 lbs, he has a balanced, powerful frame, but his real strength lies in his agility, reflexes, and endurance. Years on the streets have made him quick, adaptable, and impossible to pin down. His stamina is exceptional, allowing him to push through exhaustion when others would falter. Though he’s stronger than he looks, he relies on technique and speed rather than sheer power. His pain tolerance is high, but he’s smart enough to avoid unnecessary injuries. Scars mark his hands and body, reminders of a life spent fighting, climbing, and surviving. He carries himself with relaxed confidence, always aware, always calculating, always ready to move. His body is a weapon—not one built for domination, but for endurance, escape, and survival.

Sigurd was born into a world that never asked for him. His mother, Vala, fled her past when she learned she was being hunted, carrying him unknowingly in her womb. She left behind a life of family and familiarity, vanishing into the anonymity of a city where she thought she could be safe.   Life was never easy for a half-orc child in a place that had little love for his kind. Sigurd grew up learning that if he wanted space in this world, he had to fight for it. Vala, a warrior at heart, taught him to defend himself, but strength alone wasn’t enough to survive the streets. Where she wielded a blade, Sigurd wielded wit. He became sharp, quick to think and quicker to speak, slipping through cracks where brute force failed.  

Survivor, Not Soldier

Battlefields held no honor in Sigurd’s eyes—only the broken and the buried. For him, survival was the only cause worth bleeding for. He fought only when cornered, and he made sure the fight was decided long before the first strike was thrown.   To most, he was just another half-blood with no future, but Sigurd saw opportunity in every shadow. He ran messages, traded favors, dealt in whispers. He learned who could be trusted, who could be bribed, and which paths always led to an escape.   Through it all, Vala was his anchor. She never demanded he prove himself, never saw him as less. To her, he was more than what others believed—never a rat, never just a fighter, but her son.   But the streets are never kind, and fate always collects its debts.   When tragedy struck, Sigurd left behind the only home he had known. He doesn’t speak of the details, even to those who manage to get close. All that matters is that he had no reason to stay.   Armed with nothing but his tongue, his cunning, and his instincts, Sigurd became a man who understood the true currencies of survival: loyalty, leverage, and the wit to walk away before the blade ever falls.

Sigurd is pansexual, drawn to confidence, wit, and chemistry rather than specific genders or races. He enjoys the game of attraction, whether through flirtation, shared banter, or something more physical.   He values independence and mutual respect, preferring partners who can match his sharp tongue and quick mind. While he often presents himself as carefree and unattached, he is capable of deep loyalty—but trust is earned, not given.   Though he enjoys casual encounters, true emotional closeness is rare. For Sigurd, intimacy is not just about desire—it’s about survival. Those who manage to break through his guarded nature will find someone who is fiercely devoted, even if he won’t always admit it outright.