;; application for dramadramaduck

[dashingly]

Player nickname: Hallie
Player LJ: eugenides
Way to contact you:
Email: avenges.secretly@gmail.com
AIM: maidoftime
Other: ottomans
Are you at least 15?: Y
Current Characters: n/a

Character: Fandral the Dashing
Fandom: Thor 2011 (Marvel Cinematic Universe)
Character Notes:
History:

So, world-building, briefly: as it turns out, Earth isn’t alone in its ability to support life and thriving civilizations. In fact, there are nine realms, of which Earth (or Midgard, as we shall now refer to it), is only one. All of the nine realms are linked through Yggdrasil, the world tree. And the most important of these other realms is Asgard, known as the realm eternal. Asgard is a place where magic and technology are “one and the same,” and therefore it comes off looking like a cross between medieval Europe and Episode I-era Naboo; see here for visual reference.

Who lives in Asgard? Why, the Asgardians, of course, or, more formally, the Aesir. Long-lived, durable, and almost always incredibly beautiful, these beings were mistaken for gods by ancient Norse peoples, who immortalized them on Midgard through myths and devotions. If Asgardian concepts and names like Yggdrasil, Odin, and Thor filtered down to modern-day humanity, it was because of this. The king of Asgard is Odin, the All-father, and it was he who waged war on Midgard against the Frost Giants of Johtunheim hundreds of years ago. He and his Asgardian army pushed the giants back into their own realm and defeated them soundly. Oh, and while he was there, Odin picked up a souvenir—a baby Frost Giant, whom he decided to raise alongside his son Thor. We call him Loki.

Since the war with Johtunheim, Asgard has maintained a relative peace. Odin rules alongside his queen, Frigga. Their sons, Thor and Loki, have assembled around them a small inner-court of trusted friends, and these young Aesir have been going on adventures together for quite some time, now. Whether by birth or by merit (or, most plausibly, a combination of the two), Fandral finds his place in this princes’ court, alongside his two greatest companions, Hogun the Grimm and Volstagg the Voluminous. Known, collectively, as the Warriors Three, these friends are famous throughout Asgard for their adventurous exploits, exploring the nine realms and fighting courageously in battle.

Key to the Warriors’ existence is their friendship and loyalty to Thor, Asgard’s golden boy. It was this prince who led them into many of their adventures, and so, on the day of his failed coronation, they follow him to Johtunheim despite their misgivings. In the ensuing battle with the Frost Giants, Fandral is critically wounded, and though he survives, Thor is banished by his father, who subsequently falls into the plot-convenient Odinsleep and leaves the throne to Loki, who, surprise, has been plotting this all along!

Frandral, being an essentially practical soul, tries to make good with the new king, but eventually it becomes clear that this isn’t the way to go. So he, along with the other Warriors and the Lady Sif, journey to Midgard at Heimdal the Watcher’s behest, and end up in New Mexico, where Thor has been chilling out for the majority of this movie. Not exactly the coolest vacation, but better than bowing and scraping to Loki, at least.

Turns out, Loki is a big liar, and sends a robot to kill everyone! The Warriors and mostly Sif fight valiantly against it, but yeah they aren’t beating that thing. It nearly kills Thor, which is dramatic! But then he gets his powers back, and has words with his brother, who falls off the Bifrost (the bridge between worlds), and is never heard from again until the next year’s massive blockbuster crossover movie—coming soon, to a theater near you! Odin wakes up, reclaims his throne, and gives Thor a pat on the back. As for the prince’s mini court, things continue on as normal for them. Fandral flirts, Volstagg easts, Hogun judges. And they are sad because their circle of trust has been broken and Loki is gone—until that movie, previously mentioned. The end, let’s queue some Foo Fighters’ music up in here.

Personality:

Fandral’s life, briefly, as we may entitle “Ooh, Mr. Fandral: A Fan Fiction.”

- Hello [random Aesir maiden], I am home now. And I am looking so dashing and also, my sword unsheathed?
- Ooh, Mr. Fandral, ooh! [/swoon] Let’s do it.
- Yes. And I will leave my dashing mustache on. [/gaze]
- MEANWHILE, IN A 20 MILE RADIUS OF THE EVENT:
- Bodices ripping… Loki being a liar and never getting chicks… Physicists hitting gods with their cars…
- IT WAS AMAZING. The end.

Alright, but in all seriousness, Fandral is a combination of two main qualities: honor and charisma. He is honorable, in that he upholds every code of conduct and chivalry to its greatest extent. Everything about him, from the way he carries himself to the way he speaks to the style of his swordsmanship, is about propriety and finesse. He’s got style, to be sure—but he keeps everything to a certain level of conduct. Along with this honor comes loyalty—to his friends, his prince, but, overwhelmingly, to his realm and its hierarchy. Though he may have wanted Thor back, he was still the first to bow to Loki, the one to tell the others to back down, and give in at the moment to preserve their own well-being. He would obey Odin over Thor, if it came to it; it was only in the direst of circumstances that this conviction broke and he went to Midgard to retrieve him.

Perhaps this is more indicative of his prudence, than anything, however. He isn’t a stickler for rules, per say—he just tries to choose the best way to go around them. He bowed and conceded to Loki because it was the wisest thing to do at the time—angering him would not have helped Thor. Among their small group, Fandral is a voice of reason, turning arguments around and trying to push the hotheads towards better options. He did try and talk Thor out of going to Johtunheim, in the first place. And he was also the only one who seemed to think warm clothes were a necessity in that icy realm. So labeling Fandral the practical one isn’t far off the mark. His commitment to honor doesn’t mean he follows blindly.

And, now, to that epithet, Fandral the Dashing. It’s not an undeserved nickname, as, more often than not, you will find Frandral surrounded by women, working them as a politician would a crowd. He’s sweet, he’s charismatic, he’s polite with just the right amount of devil-may-care attitude thrown in. He tells stories of the Warriors Three’s exploits, and all the ladies are very impressed by this. And Fandral, well, he loves the ladies. Their attention, their beauty, and, yes, their bodies. If he can have female attention, he’ll go for it, using the many strategies he’s learned and perfected in order to do so.

But Fandral isn’t a cynical womanizer, or a misanthrope. He respects the women he flirts with and beds. He’s polite, he’s considerate, he’s gracious. He isn’t seeking to use them, he just sees romance and sex on a superficial level. If he writes you a poem, he expects that you will realize it’s not a binding oath. He’s not promising himself to you forever, just for that moment. And, for the most part, the people he’s with accept this. Sex isn’t a promise of eternity, it’s a way to enjoy the night. And when you’re as long-lived as the Asgardians, maybe that’s just the easiest way to look at it.

So, there you have it: charismatic, charming, and decidedly flirtatious, Fandral is, by turns, a model knight and fierce warrior, a gentleman and a devil’s advocate.

Other:

As an Asgardian, Fandral has thoroughly extended lifespan, youth, and durability when compared to human beings. He is not a deity of any particular aspect, like Thor or Loki, but he is a renowned adventurer and known for his swordsmanship and storytelling.

Additional Links: Thor 2011 | Fandral the Dashing

First Person (entry type):

_{( Fandral smiles at the feed, and offers a wave. He’s lounging, looking so relaxed that one might not realize he was still injured, unless they knew. He regards his audience, considering, and then waves a hand idly as he begins. )}

It appears that much has transpired, amongst you who have been brought together, through this sorcery. Contact between realms is not unheard of, of course, but this is something almost entirely new. And the possibilities, well…

_{( He smiles, knowingly. It’s not quite a wink, but it’s the same tone expressed in a smile. )}

I have ever been fond of stories, and grand tales. Telling them, and hearing them. So, if you have any of particular note to share, then we should drink to your honor as we hear them. It is a grand tradition.

And if you’ve heard anything of the princes of my realm, well… I would certainly not deny the opportunity to hear them.

Third Person:

The point of it was, they were all children. It wasn’t just Thor who was immature; despite Sif’s courage and Hogun’s dignity and Loki’s word weaving, they had no more sense of the world around them than Thor did. At least, not in the ways they assumed.

That much was becoming increasingly apparent as they fought the Frost Giants, the cold of Johtunheim just barely registering as the situation devolved. Fandral drew his sword, and when he did so it was with an artist’s flare. He had a warrior’s courage, as well—he had seen battle countless times, had charged into adventure—for him, battle was something out of an epic. He felt a rush as they wove between their assailants, each with his (or her) own weapon, each a master of their craft.

And then, suddenly, it all began going wrong. The ice that pierced his chest was, really, the first attack of a creeping dread descending upon them. He cried out in pain as the blood bloomed against his cloak—fur, not armor, he had thought, warmth was what one needed in Johtunheim, not protection—and it was then that the spell of the play was broken, and the rehearsed moves and attacks seemed so transparent and futile.

Someone was picking him up—Volstagg, he could safely assume—and with each stride his friend made Fandral could feel stabs of pain running through him. So much for golden warriors, he thought bitterly. He had been the one so quickly undone, and yet he still clutched his sword in his hand as though he could be of use with it.

It was a few moments after Odin's arrival that his consciousness failed him, and it was hours later that he was blinking awake, and seeing Hogun and Volstagg’s faces—one grim, one concerned, and wondering why Sif was standing off to one corner and what everyone was neglecting to tell him.