Name:
Okken Davidson
Hero/Villain Name:
Orion
Age:
1,938
Height:
5'8"
Weight:
238lbs. (Toned, Muscular)
Appearance:
Will be coming eventually.
Power Source:
Mystical (Demi-God)
History:
It was late at night as the harsh tundra wind whistled from just beyond the tent opening. The men slept soundly, and the children were beside them, dreaming of the day of travel to come. All children, that is, except Okken. Eight years aged, but reknown for his prodigal ability in the art of martial combat, Okken was wide awake. He seemed to have an uneasy feeling about him. It wasn't the cold air getting to him, nor, did it seem, was it the fear of night. Something was uneasy in his bones. Then he heard it. A snarling sound the eminated it's way, intertwined with the howling wind, from outside of the tent. Slowly raising his head, Okken peered out toward the opening of his tent. A polar bear. Though, Okken's movements had not gone unnoticed. The bear swiped at the child with the strength of several strong men, his claws were as menasing as menacing as the front line of an opposing army and as quick as the most swift of winter owls. The child's seemingly fragile body was able to roll to the side, only causeing the bear to wound his arm superficially. With a roar, the bear more than expressed it's frustration. The children in the tent with Okken all grabbed at daggers and other weapons, but at little use. Okken had reached for and grabbed his longsword that he had been training with since he was five, and now it was time to test his skills. Okken rolled out of the tent into the icy tundra air and took sight on the polar bear. A child, one of Okken's favored childhood companions aged ten years, stabbed at the bear's paw to little avil. The bear was quick, a mature polar bear with hunger in his stomach and blood in his mind. With that, the bear was ignoring Okken for the time being. The bear swung back its paw and struck the child. A fatal blow. The tent was torn down by the body of the child that had been thrown back. The other children had little thought in their mind but to flee, though the other tents were about fifteen feet away, and in the path of the fire that had rekindled itself slightly from the wind whipping around, chilling the night air. Then, the bear. In order to reach the haven of their guardians, they would have to avoid the bear. They began screaming. Loudly, but with little result. The wind was so loud, and so fast, that the sound could not be carried. There was little hope for the children. With that, Okken thrust his sword in the way of the bear, and with great precision, actually struck the bear. The bear's hide was tough, and pushing through it was no easy matter. Okken had the strength of an adult, one that matched his fathers, but that was only enough to pierce its skin an inch or so at the very most. This surprised the child, but he kept on his toes. The bear was already on the attack, swinging both paws at Okken in hopes of demolishing him. No luck. Okken jumped back and lunged once more, striking the bears stomach with a forceful blow. Though, it seemed, the bear was unnerved. Almost as though he had never been hit. Okken was foolishly expectant, as the bear's aresenal of daggers rained down on his small body. He fell, but this blow was not going to stop Okken. He began to rise up, rolling away from another claw. His eyes fell on the small flame left in the fire pit. He ran for the pit, taking wield an ember covered piece of wood with both hands. Blood was dripping from Okken's body, but he knew it would heal. What was about to happen to the bear would not. He swung at the bear, and connected. The heat singed the bear's flesh, but it continued the fight. The bear lunged at Okken, only to pounce into the flame, which kicked itself up and flared onto the body of the polar bear, causing it to catch aflame. It was then that the bear released an ear-splitting roar, as it stood, only to fall by a final strike of Okken's hot embers.
Okken was born in the year 1082 AD to a man named David Ericson and Dawn in Norway. His birth occured under some of the most mysterious circumstances known in all of mankind to be physically possible. "Ah, all those years ago..." Dawn would begin "I feel as though it were fate itself staring me in my soul." It was as though Dawn were purposfully attempting to tell a legend, or at the very least, a fairy tale. "It was a night that was much colder than normal, the sky was clear and the stars lit up the sky. The moon was completely hidden behind the shadow of the Earth. I peered into the night sky to find an unusual sight. There was a star far brighter than the others, one that seemed almost as though it were out of place." It was routine for Okken's mother to pause at this point. She always reminded Okken "I've always loved looking into the sky. Finding constilations is a great deal of fun.", but, as always, she would continue her story. "There was a star far brighter than the others, one that seemed almost as though it were out of place. This particular star was in the way of Orion's Belt, my favorite of all constilations. When I noticed the star, I began trying to show everyone the star. Everyone I attempted to tell about the star claimed they didn't see what she was talking about, or maybe the star had always been there. At around midnight I devised to go out into the tundra to see it away from everyone, and maybe even take notes. Upon following it into the tundra about a mile, I found a small shack. I decided to investigate, and inside the shack I found a man. The man was very compelling, though all we did was talk for a couple of hours, until I left and came back to the city. I told no one. I felt compelled not to. The same thing happened that night, and every night for the next 29 days. On the 31st night when I reached the shack, the man simply told me that I was pregnant and that I was to name the child Okken. 9 and a half months later, you, my dear son, were born. Your father had simply assumed that you were his, and that I am just a wonderful storyteller. And, although you may think I'm just telling a story, you are special Okken." Okken remembers the story well, but has never truly heeded its words. He's always looked up to his mortal father, and always assumed that if the story were true, that fate would have have triumphed his logic.
"Okken, my son!" David bellowed out. It had been only a matter of months since the bear incident, which left Okken scared on his right pectorial muscle and awarded a great deal within his Viking community. "Come, sit with your father! I have something to tell you!" Mis-sentence, Okken was already mid bound into the den of their small, lower class hut. Okken loved his mortal father, and respected him greatly. In Okken's eyes, he was the greatest warrior in Norway, and quite possibly the planet. Okken was still a young boy, and he didn't understand. His father was aging. "Okken, I have a surprise for you, this day, your birthday!" David said with compassion that seemed to caress the heart of his child. Okken jumped with glee. It wasn't often that their family could afford much for a celebration. Okken already knew that, no matter what it is, he will adore it and cherish it forever. "It's my old greatsword, Okken. I am giving it to you, for I know you will take great care of it. You have made me proud these nine years, and it is time that you learn to fight with a true warrior's weapon." David was soulful in his speech. He kneeled and held his sword up to a teary eyed Okken. Okken took the sword, trying to keep his composure. All he could do was cry. This was the greatest moment of his life. One he knew he'd never forget, no matter how many millenia pass him by. He sheathed the sword with the uncoordinated hands of a child filled with emotional joy, and hugged his father. What Okken did not realize, however, is that this hug maybe the last he'd ever give his father, and that this "I Love You" would be the last he'd ever utter to him.
That night, as Okken slept in his old cot grasping the greatsword as though it were a teddy bear to any other child, David took the longsword that Okken had been using, and his practice wooden shield (Both of which having been dented and abused during combat), and left his house, as did several of the other Vikings within the tribe. They were to explore uncharted lands to the north of where their tribe had settled. The mission was dangerous. No men were supposed to survive the cold of the deep north, and the path their was to be scattered with barbarian tribes that loot wanderers. David was growing weak, with his battleworn body having only the strength for one more adventure. They set out, David the elder of the group, and the leader. The began north, and the air began chilling. They were met by bandits who cowered in their wake. These men were strong, reknown for their battle prowess, but they were unable to fool some with their reputation. David was taken down in the heat of combat with a barbaric tribe of raiders from northern Norway. Cut down before his brethren. He died with a tears in his eyes. All he wanted was to see Okken one more time before he took his last breath. He knew this might happen, though, and he didn't want to tell Okken before he left. "Okken, you're the best son anyone could have.", the memories flashed before his eyes as he laid upon the ground, being warmed only by his blood. "I want to grow up to be just like you!" The pain within his mind was far greater than any he felt from a blade wound. "David, I am Okken's father. Odin", and with a scream of pain and disbelief, he was gone.
Okken grew up. His heartache for the loss of his mortal father was greater to Okken than the feeling of any blade against his flesh, any bones shattered, or any organs bruised. He continued his fight, he continued his training, and he continued his undying spirit all for his father. The morning Okken awoke to find his father gone, and his weapons missing, he dubly named his greatsword "David". It was an odd sword, made differently than the rest. Probably the reason his family could afford the sword in the first place, but it allowed Okken to find a special finesse and power with it. For years, Okken trained with it. Fought with it. Spoke it. Slept by it. Breathed it. He trained until his hands were bloody from holding it so tightly, and fought with it until his hands were bloody with the enemy. This sword became Okken's only memory of his father, and would go to great lengths to ensure its safety. So was the story of Okken's life for the next sixteen years. Okken was a prodigy. Everything Viking's seemed to excel at, Okken was unstoppable at. He was the strongest, the fastest, and the most skilled combatant of all time. Yet, he seemed compassionate, artistic, and even affectionate. He was attractive, well spoken, and even poetic at times. But soon, he was going to meet the end of his life as he knew it.
Okken had just turned twenty five. He was as everyone knows him in more recent times. Late at night, he and some fellow Vikings from his tribe had left their wives and children behind to explore northern lands, as his father did all those years ago. Okken left behind his mother, Dawn, who had supported him all these years. He loved her greatly, but knew David's legacy must be carried on. Okken was the most promising warrior in the history of their tribe. If anyone was to, it would be him. It had been several days since the expedition began, and conditions were getting harsh. They had fought several battles, and lost several men. The morale of the troop was getting low. "Okken, we should turn back. We may suffer the same fate as your father if we do not!". Yet, Okken's preservirance did not allow them to stop. Eventually, Okken's men gave up and turned homeward after losing another man to the cold. Okken, grief stricken and drowned in memories of the past, decided to go the mission alone. On the 31st night of his exploration, the night found itself delving the temperature far lower than ever before experienced. Okken had set up camp. He decided that the next day was the day he would begin his journey back to his tribe. The weather was to cold and too windy for further exploration. That night, he went to sleep, only to become encapsed in ice, sleeping for what seemed like an eternity, but felt like one night.
There, in his icey haven, Okken slept for almost 1,800 years. Winter after winter, he was encapsed further and further. Though, after a little over a millenia, the climate began to change. The ice began to melt. Slowly, that night came to an end for Okken. When he awoke for the first time in nearly two millenia, he began his journey home. He was surprised to find that everything had changed. Everything was warmer, there were no signs of barbaric tribes, there were even roads and train tracks stretching across the landscape. Things he'd never seen before. Confused, he continued until he reached the side of where his tribe used to stand. In its place, he found a massive city. Around it were objects he's never seen, people speaking a language he'd never heard, and all within the largest community he'd ever laid eyes upon. With a population nearing ten million, this city was over 100,000 times larger than what he had left. He entered the city, and within it was a great panic. Okken was being pushed around by these strangers to enter large metallic objects. Okken stood by and watched until... "You look like a strong worker! Get up here!" someone from withing one of the objects called to Okken. He had no idea what the man had said, but was pulled onto the craft only to find out later. This was an escape pod, the world was ending and this thing was supposed to save them. Okken asked few questions, as he had no way of doing so, and he was too shocked even if he could.
For the past 250 years, Okken has worked as a construction worker on Grace, helping to rebuild human civilization. He lives in a small apartment in the mid-hive making about twice as much as a normal construction worker. He has since learned a very broken amount of English, and has registered with the ASEA because he was informed that he should. His life until this point has almost come off as pointless. He is still unaware of his status of Demi-God, and blames his inability to age on the effects of the cold that froze him all those years ago, as he describes them as more than just chilling, as if there was magic about it. Okken knows that fate has something in store for him, and he lives to find out what that is, but he thrives to make his father proud. And thus begins Okken's story on Grace...
Okken Davidson
Hero/Villain Name:
Orion
Age:
1,938
Height:
5'8"
Weight:
238lbs. (Toned, Muscular)
Appearance:
Will be coming eventually.
Power Source:
Mystical (Demi-God)
History:
It was late at night as the harsh tundra wind whistled from just beyond the tent opening. The men slept soundly, and the children were beside them, dreaming of the day of travel to come. All children, that is, except Okken. Eight years aged, but reknown for his prodigal ability in the art of martial combat, Okken was wide awake. He seemed to have an uneasy feeling about him. It wasn't the cold air getting to him, nor, did it seem, was it the fear of night. Something was uneasy in his bones. Then he heard it. A snarling sound the eminated it's way, intertwined with the howling wind, from outside of the tent. Slowly raising his head, Okken peered out toward the opening of his tent. A polar bear. Though, Okken's movements had not gone unnoticed. The bear swiped at the child with the strength of several strong men, his claws were as menasing as menacing as the front line of an opposing army and as quick as the most swift of winter owls. The child's seemingly fragile body was able to roll to the side, only causeing the bear to wound his arm superficially. With a roar, the bear more than expressed it's frustration. The children in the tent with Okken all grabbed at daggers and other weapons, but at little use. Okken had reached for and grabbed his longsword that he had been training with since he was five, and now it was time to test his skills. Okken rolled out of the tent into the icy tundra air and took sight on the polar bear. A child, one of Okken's favored childhood companions aged ten years, stabbed at the bear's paw to little avil. The bear was quick, a mature polar bear with hunger in his stomach and blood in his mind. With that, the bear was ignoring Okken for the time being. The bear swung back its paw and struck the child. A fatal blow. The tent was torn down by the body of the child that had been thrown back. The other children had little thought in their mind but to flee, though the other tents were about fifteen feet away, and in the path of the fire that had rekindled itself slightly from the wind whipping around, chilling the night air. Then, the bear. In order to reach the haven of their guardians, they would have to avoid the bear. They began screaming. Loudly, but with little result. The wind was so loud, and so fast, that the sound could not be carried. There was little hope for the children. With that, Okken thrust his sword in the way of the bear, and with great precision, actually struck the bear. The bear's hide was tough, and pushing through it was no easy matter. Okken had the strength of an adult, one that matched his fathers, but that was only enough to pierce its skin an inch or so at the very most. This surprised the child, but he kept on his toes. The bear was already on the attack, swinging both paws at Okken in hopes of demolishing him. No luck. Okken jumped back and lunged once more, striking the bears stomach with a forceful blow. Though, it seemed, the bear was unnerved. Almost as though he had never been hit. Okken was foolishly expectant, as the bear's aresenal of daggers rained down on his small body. He fell, but this blow was not going to stop Okken. He began to rise up, rolling away from another claw. His eyes fell on the small flame left in the fire pit. He ran for the pit, taking wield an ember covered piece of wood with both hands. Blood was dripping from Okken's body, but he knew it would heal. What was about to happen to the bear would not. He swung at the bear, and connected. The heat singed the bear's flesh, but it continued the fight. The bear lunged at Okken, only to pounce into the flame, which kicked itself up and flared onto the body of the polar bear, causing it to catch aflame. It was then that the bear released an ear-splitting roar, as it stood, only to fall by a final strike of Okken's hot embers.
Okken was born in the year 1082 AD to a man named David Ericson and Dawn in Norway. His birth occured under some of the most mysterious circumstances known in all of mankind to be physically possible. "Ah, all those years ago..." Dawn would begin "I feel as though it were fate itself staring me in my soul." It was as though Dawn were purposfully attempting to tell a legend, or at the very least, a fairy tale. "It was a night that was much colder than normal, the sky was clear and the stars lit up the sky. The moon was completely hidden behind the shadow of the Earth. I peered into the night sky to find an unusual sight. There was a star far brighter than the others, one that seemed almost as though it were out of place." It was routine for Okken's mother to pause at this point. She always reminded Okken "I've always loved looking into the sky. Finding constilations is a great deal of fun.", but, as always, she would continue her story. "There was a star far brighter than the others, one that seemed almost as though it were out of place. This particular star was in the way of Orion's Belt, my favorite of all constilations. When I noticed the star, I began trying to show everyone the star. Everyone I attempted to tell about the star claimed they didn't see what she was talking about, or maybe the star had always been there. At around midnight I devised to go out into the tundra to see it away from everyone, and maybe even take notes. Upon following it into the tundra about a mile, I found a small shack. I decided to investigate, and inside the shack I found a man. The man was very compelling, though all we did was talk for a couple of hours, until I left and came back to the city. I told no one. I felt compelled not to. The same thing happened that night, and every night for the next 29 days. On the 31st night when I reached the shack, the man simply told me that I was pregnant and that I was to name the child Okken. 9 and a half months later, you, my dear son, were born. Your father had simply assumed that you were his, and that I am just a wonderful storyteller. And, although you may think I'm just telling a story, you are special Okken." Okken remembers the story well, but has never truly heeded its words. He's always looked up to his mortal father, and always assumed that if the story were true, that fate would have have triumphed his logic.
"Okken, my son!" David bellowed out. It had been only a matter of months since the bear incident, which left Okken scared on his right pectorial muscle and awarded a great deal within his Viking community. "Come, sit with your father! I have something to tell you!" Mis-sentence, Okken was already mid bound into the den of their small, lower class hut. Okken loved his mortal father, and respected him greatly. In Okken's eyes, he was the greatest warrior in Norway, and quite possibly the planet. Okken was still a young boy, and he didn't understand. His father was aging. "Okken, I have a surprise for you, this day, your birthday!" David said with compassion that seemed to caress the heart of his child. Okken jumped with glee. It wasn't often that their family could afford much for a celebration. Okken already knew that, no matter what it is, he will adore it and cherish it forever. "It's my old greatsword, Okken. I am giving it to you, for I know you will take great care of it. You have made me proud these nine years, and it is time that you learn to fight with a true warrior's weapon." David was soulful in his speech. He kneeled and held his sword up to a teary eyed Okken. Okken took the sword, trying to keep his composure. All he could do was cry. This was the greatest moment of his life. One he knew he'd never forget, no matter how many millenia pass him by. He sheathed the sword with the uncoordinated hands of a child filled with emotional joy, and hugged his father. What Okken did not realize, however, is that this hug maybe the last he'd ever give his father, and that this "I Love You" would be the last he'd ever utter to him.
That night, as Okken slept in his old cot grasping the greatsword as though it were a teddy bear to any other child, David took the longsword that Okken had been using, and his practice wooden shield (Both of which having been dented and abused during combat), and left his house, as did several of the other Vikings within the tribe. They were to explore uncharted lands to the north of where their tribe had settled. The mission was dangerous. No men were supposed to survive the cold of the deep north, and the path their was to be scattered with barbarian tribes that loot wanderers. David was growing weak, with his battleworn body having only the strength for one more adventure. They set out, David the elder of the group, and the leader. The began north, and the air began chilling. They were met by bandits who cowered in their wake. These men were strong, reknown for their battle prowess, but they were unable to fool some with their reputation. David was taken down in the heat of combat with a barbaric tribe of raiders from northern Norway. Cut down before his brethren. He died with a tears in his eyes. All he wanted was to see Okken one more time before he took his last breath. He knew this might happen, though, and he didn't want to tell Okken before he left. "Okken, you're the best son anyone could have.", the memories flashed before his eyes as he laid upon the ground, being warmed only by his blood. "I want to grow up to be just like you!" The pain within his mind was far greater than any he felt from a blade wound. "David, I am Okken's father. Odin", and with a scream of pain and disbelief, he was gone.
Okken grew up. His heartache for the loss of his mortal father was greater to Okken than the feeling of any blade against his flesh, any bones shattered, or any organs bruised. He continued his fight, he continued his training, and he continued his undying spirit all for his father. The morning Okken awoke to find his father gone, and his weapons missing, he dubly named his greatsword "David". It was an odd sword, made differently than the rest. Probably the reason his family could afford the sword in the first place, but it allowed Okken to find a special finesse and power with it. For years, Okken trained with it. Fought with it. Spoke it. Slept by it. Breathed it. He trained until his hands were bloody from holding it so tightly, and fought with it until his hands were bloody with the enemy. This sword became Okken's only memory of his father, and would go to great lengths to ensure its safety. So was the story of Okken's life for the next sixteen years. Okken was a prodigy. Everything Viking's seemed to excel at, Okken was unstoppable at. He was the strongest, the fastest, and the most skilled combatant of all time. Yet, he seemed compassionate, artistic, and even affectionate. He was attractive, well spoken, and even poetic at times. But soon, he was going to meet the end of his life as he knew it.
Okken had just turned twenty five. He was as everyone knows him in more recent times. Late at night, he and some fellow Vikings from his tribe had left their wives and children behind to explore northern lands, as his father did all those years ago. Okken left behind his mother, Dawn, who had supported him all these years. He loved her greatly, but knew David's legacy must be carried on. Okken was the most promising warrior in the history of their tribe. If anyone was to, it would be him. It had been several days since the expedition began, and conditions were getting harsh. They had fought several battles, and lost several men. The morale of the troop was getting low. "Okken, we should turn back. We may suffer the same fate as your father if we do not!". Yet, Okken's preservirance did not allow them to stop. Eventually, Okken's men gave up and turned homeward after losing another man to the cold. Okken, grief stricken and drowned in memories of the past, decided to go the mission alone. On the 31st night of his exploration, the night found itself delving the temperature far lower than ever before experienced. Okken had set up camp. He decided that the next day was the day he would begin his journey back to his tribe. The weather was to cold and too windy for further exploration. That night, he went to sleep, only to become encapsed in ice, sleeping for what seemed like an eternity, but felt like one night.
There, in his icey haven, Okken slept for almost 1,800 years. Winter after winter, he was encapsed further and further. Though, after a little over a millenia, the climate began to change. The ice began to melt. Slowly, that night came to an end for Okken. When he awoke for the first time in nearly two millenia, he began his journey home. He was surprised to find that everything had changed. Everything was warmer, there were no signs of barbaric tribes, there were even roads and train tracks stretching across the landscape. Things he'd never seen before. Confused, he continued until he reached the side of where his tribe used to stand. In its place, he found a massive city. Around it were objects he's never seen, people speaking a language he'd never heard, and all within the largest community he'd ever laid eyes upon. With a population nearing ten million, this city was over 100,000 times larger than what he had left. He entered the city, and within it was a great panic. Okken was being pushed around by these strangers to enter large metallic objects. Okken stood by and watched until... "You look like a strong worker! Get up here!" someone from withing one of the objects called to Okken. He had no idea what the man had said, but was pulled onto the craft only to find out later. This was an escape pod, the world was ending and this thing was supposed to save them. Okken asked few questions, as he had no way of doing so, and he was too shocked even if he could.
For the past 250 years, Okken has worked as a construction worker on Grace, helping to rebuild human civilization. He lives in a small apartment in the mid-hive making about twice as much as a normal construction worker. He has since learned a very broken amount of English, and has registered with the ASEA because he was informed that he should. His life until this point has almost come off as pointless. He is still unaware of his status of Demi-God, and blames his inability to age on the effects of the cold that froze him all those years ago, as he describes them as more than just chilling, as if there was magic about it. Okken knows that fate has something in store for him, and he lives to find out what that is, but he thrives to make his father proud. And thus begins Okken's story on Grace...
