Vidar Blue Bear is a refugee of the now-defunct Uthgardt Blue Bear tribe. Fleeing the destruction of his clan by means of a planar rift at Hellgate Keep in 1369 DR, he has led a handful of survivors through the planes to ultimately find refuge in the Isles of Styss.
Like most of the Uthgardt peoples, Vidar is a physical specimen of impeccable breeding. Standing somewhere between six-foot four-inches, and six-foot six-inches, Vidar's stature and broad musculature cut an imposing silhouette. Next to most humans, Vidar stands out for the broadness of his chest and shoulders, and the rippling thickness of his long arms. Gazing downward, one would notice a narrowing waist, ending in long, coltish legs equally powerful across the quads and calves as the rest of his body.
His hair is of a particularly pale sheen of blonde, and left long to hang just past his shoulders - it is evidently cared for, but no more so than any man's. His eyebrows are stark, thick and expressive, cutting close arches over a sharp brow that crowns his beautiful sky-blue eyes. His gaze has an iciness about it, which spreads to the stoniness of his handsome features. He possesses the chiseled features, prominent cheekbones and aquilline nose common to those humans of far northern breeding; his entire face exceptionally expressive when utilised -- though mostly, his demeanour remains conditionally cold.
His clothing is reminiscent of his native peoples, even after all of this time, and he chooses to stick to leathers and furs as his preferred fabrics-of-choice. He usually sports a pair of hunter green leather breeches and a pale wolf pelt-and-leather loincloth-and-belt combo that is adorned with various pouches and trinkets. His boots are made of single sheets of finely stitched leatherbound bear fur. In the comparative heat of Styss, Vidar usually goes shirtless.
In battle, Vidar's armour is generally minimal, preferring freedom to protection, especially across his torso. Generally arming himself with a large waraxe, Vidar chooses to armour his entire right arm in plating to act as a kind of shield, with large boaring horns forged into his shoulderplate, helmet and greaves that remain constant weapons. He prepares himself for combat by ritually smearing a blue plant-paste over various parts of his exposed flesh.
Vidar is a cold man - such is his nature. However, he is paradoxically a man of high honour, and possesses a good, if tarnished, heart. Cunning far beyond what people expect from the warrior, he is prone to blurting out witticisms that break up his usually laconic demeanour. Well-spoken with a distinctive though unoffensive accent, his voice is deep and rings pure - likely holdings its own when raised to a singing pitch.
His cold demeanour and blunt manner of speech fade somewhat in times of dispute resolution, and in combat. He is clearly a practiced statesman and diplomat, and somewhat an expert in the ways of war - if only learning the nuances of Styssian battle tactics.
He seems the kind of man at once capable of great good, and great evil. He is hard to place, his expressions and tone hard to read - and his bluntness is often taken in the wrong way. There is little tenderness about him, having experienced none of it as a child, and in such situations he finds himself stiflingly uncomfortable. He is, however, an accomplished flirt - the notches in his belt not seeming to qualify for such a tender moment of stifled speechlessness.
Vidar Blue Bear was born in 1350DR to Ondar Blue Bear, a tribal champion, and Issja Halgara, fourth (and youngest) sister of the then-chieftan and shaman, Tanta Halgara. He is brother to one sister, Svea Blue Bear, who is herself a budding shamaness.
Vidar's childhood was a lonely one - his father was a brutal warrior who lived a spartan, isolated life, and was chosen to seed Issja's children, rather than father them. His father's subservience to his mother resulted in bitter competition between Vidar and his father, and he was regularly pitted in combat against the far larger, more experienced man - resulting in many broken bones and horrific injuries as a child, leaving him initially unconfident in the attractiveness of his physical appearance. His mother's rearing had encouraged this fued, and Vidar was told that he would only ever come of age if he'd strike his father down in such a combat.
Such a day came when Vidar was sixteen, in 1366DR. Ondar had been especially summoned by Issja for the duel; such a rare occurrence that both parties knew it was no ordinary sparring session. Vidar had been spared from the raids of other boys, and the act of his first murder had been staved off, to his ridicule, by his mother. Vidar was painted by his mother in all manner of runic pattern, designed to bless him in the fight. The two men circled eachother at first, each waiting for the other to strike and open a weakness. His father faltered over uneven ground, and Vidar launched at him - landing an uppercut that sent the larger man tumbling to the floor. Vidar then descended upon him, kneeling over his torso to pin him there, and began to send vicious punches towards the man's face. Ondar had lifted his guard, a long, thick piece of fabric had been wrapped around his right fist, and its tail wavered in the air as his hands jolted about, trying to protect his face. In what seemed like an act of surrender, Ondar's hands finally dropped, to the laughter of Vidar's mother, and Vidar pinned his right arm to the ground and began to thump repeatedly at the man's face with his own balled, and quickly bloodied, right-fist.
As his last action, his face badly broken, Ondar's right hand lifted to grip Vidar's bicep firmly, with that piece of fabric wrapped across his arm. As his father's face caved in, and the blood began to spray upwards at Vidar, coating his chest with dispersed droplets, the grip softened, the man's thumb drew over his son's skin in the only act of affection he'd ever given, and then fell to the ground as the life finally drained from him. Leaning back onto his haunches, breath heaving repeatedly, Vidar's eyes widenedy as he gazed down at the body of his badly disfigured father, and he glanced at his gorey fist. His eyes then found that piece of fabric wrapped around Ondar's relaxed palm, and he leant down to unravel it, slowly standing. Still heaving for breath, Vidar held the long piece of cloth between his two hands, and his mother's hands slid up over his back and onto his shoulders, a faint cackling ringing in his ears from behind him.
Time seemed to stop as he gazed along the strip, and found little stitches, crude in nature, but clearly conveying their subject. Along the length of cloth, events in Vidar's life had been etched - his birth, his first steps, his first weapon, his first hunt, all there - until, about a third of the way along, the stitches finally stopped. Sadness, true, rueful, bitter sadness coursed throughout Vidar's body at the loss of the father he'd never known, and so badly misunderstood. The blood coating him felt like a curse, his mother's words those of a witch.
"You've done well my son... Go now, take a woman, and rest."
The next three years of Vidar's life seemed to pass as decades. Full of battle and violence, Vidar rose from simple attendance on raids, to station as easily the best warrior of his age. In 1367 DR, mad with visions of power, the tribe's chieftan, and Vidar's aunt, began to operate in league with the demonic forces of Hellgate Keep.
Formerly an ancient elven city known as Ascalhorn, the city became known as Hellgate Keep when Wulgreth, a Netherese wizard, summoned devils to the city in 820 DR. In 880 DR, this prompted other wizards, with the guidance of the fey'ri, to summon demons to counteract the devils and in 882 DR the demons won the battle and subsequently conquered the city. The Harpers placed wards around the city in 886 DR to prevent the demons within from spilling out into the surrounding area.
Through some form of communion, Tanta Halgara had been communicating with, and doing the bidding of, demonic masters - this tainted their already-vicious Uthgardt totem spirit, the Blue Bear. No longer a mere spirit, the totem acquired demonic qualities. The tribesfolk, likewise, degenerated and became even more brutal, possibly even more savage than the orc tribes. It was in this period that Vidar reluctantly parted with the sliver of humanity conferred upon him with the dying action of his father, and became an avatar of slaughter. By 1368 DR, Vidar was among the tribe's most prominent warriors and, along with the rest of the Blue Bear tribe in its entirety, was commanded to march on the city they had been serving as Tanta Halgara's last maddened attempt at seizing limitless power.
The Harpers monitoring the region were powerless to stop the assault, and the entire Blue Bear tribe was slaughtered in the attempt - its totem fading into extinction, becoming absorbed by Malar. Or such was the story. The assault on the keep had lead Vidar, and a group of warriors, including his sister, into a cavernous hall, resembling a throne room, where at the end of which lay a large, planar vortex acting as a conduit between the Abyss and Prime Material planes. The demons closed in around them, uncountable in number. Lost to the reckless abandon of beserker rage, Vidar accepted that he would die in glorious battle. Perhaps through some manner of divine intervention, or perhaps because the fogginess of Vidar's mind had simply cleared for an instant, Vidar felt as though time had slowed and, yelling out, dragging, and even beating the warriors around him into submission, he pulled whoever he could through the Abyssal vortex...
And that is where the stories of Vidar Blue Bear stop. The next six years of his life, spent in the Abyss, and far beyond, are a blur - unknown to anyone as far as Styss's records tell. What is known is that one day, a band of four bloodied warriors found their way to Styss - and found sanctuary, for a time. Occupying the abandoned camp, Vidar led his small band of brethren for a sweet six months of peace. Drawn into the island's conflicts as a mercenery, he was enlisted, along with his sister and two kinsmen, in the service of Tens - whom he served only for a short time. Growing tired of the bloodiness of battle, and losing his sister to marriage in a far off land, and his kinsmen to their lingering unsettledness, Vidar withdrew from the world. And lived as a hermit, in Dellas forest for a time. Now, he has reintered the war, this time wearing the banner of Anamchara, the noble city. His motives are uncertain, but one thing is certain - for Vidar Blue Bear, much has changed.