Bowen Gunnarsson
Name      : Bowen Gunnarsson
Nickname  : Bo
Species   : Human (Berserkr)
Gender    : Male
Age       : 44
Height    : 6' 10"
Weight    : 344 lbs
Hair Color: Brown
Eye Color : Brown
Occupation: "Freelance" Bouncer & Mechanic (Hunter)

Distinguishing Features: Germanic pagan tattoos

Physical Description: Bowen Gunnarsson is a giant of a man. While not tall enough to see exactly eye-to-eye with Shaquille O'Neal, he's certainly tall enough to give him a headbutt if he wanted too. That great physical size is coupled with a physique that can best be described as "brick shithouse." And not that sexy, magazine cover bodybuilder body either, but a working man's body. Which means corded muscles over a thick trunk. Which is a fancy way of saying that Bowen looks like he enjoys beer and burgers, even while he's dead-lifting the back end of a pickup truck. Which, to be fair, he does. Grease stains and other less wholesome fluids often stain his clothing, which is more often than not more ruggedly functional than stylish.

His personal grooming matches his clothing choice. For the most part, his long hair and beard are wild and unkempt. However, as such things can often get caught or otherwise hinder, Bowen will usually either tie it back, or if he is feeling bored and wants something to do, braid it. This, along with his other obvious physical attributes make him look like a wild mountain man, which he is.

Kind of.

The unusual accessories that mark him as an oddity besides his above average height and weight are the grizzly pelt he keeps on his person at all time, and the leather pouches and holsters that sit on his waist. Sometimes they are filled with mundane items like keys and money. Other times they hold automotive tools. And sometimes they hold weapons that would definitely raise and eyebrow or two from law enforcement, which is why he goes out of his way to only carry those items during times of extreme need, or at night. Or if it's Thursday. Really, he doesn't need that much provocation to come out dressed for war.

Faceclaim: Ryan Hurst

Theme Song: George Thorogood And The Destroyers - Bad To The Bone

Personality: Bowen is a man of extremes in all things. Which is partially not his fault. Either way, when the big man is in the room, you know it. Loud, boisterous, and unwilling to be cowed, his forceful personality serves him well in most situations. Whether he is fighting some wicked nasty from beyond, or cancelling his cable subscription. Which isn't to say that the man is uncaring or incapable of subtlety. It's just that he's lived a hard life, and doesn't have time to mess about. He has little patience for bullshit. Lies, senseless cruelty, and bullshit are the holy trinity of pet peeves that can send him over the edge.

Which isn't that hard to do. Because Bowen's...temper is legendary. As a Berserkr, rage is his constant companion. It usually takes all his self control to maintain a semblance of normalcy. So when he let's himself off the chain, its not so much that he has to work himself up, but simply let go. He is terrifying when under the effects of the berserkergang. More a mindless force of nature than a man. That dark aspect of himself has frightened away friends and lovers in the past, and he has a complicated relationship with his anger. On the one hand it gives him strength, and he has used it for good ends in the past. On the other, it frightens him too. There is always the danger of him hurting someone innocent by accident.

But Bowen isn't all booming voice and fury. His tactless directness also makes him fall in love fast, and hard. He often jokes that if he gets to know a woman long enough, the chances of him proposing to her goes up by the hour. That self-deprecating humor hides a kernel of truth. His passions run strong, and deep. Considering his almost chronic inability to maintain a relationship, it is a strength and a weakness. Just as often as his heart is filled with joy and love, it is just as often filled with sorrow and a frat-house worth of empty whiskey bottles.

Last, but certainly not least, is Bowen's faith. That is a tangled knot of complicated and contradictory emotions. For Bo, he knows for a fact that the supernatural is real, and could be considered..."chummy" with pagan gods. But that almost makes it worse. If he was in the dark as to the wants and needs of the divine, he could just be another schmuck. But Bo can actually blame his gods for the troubles in his life and know that he is justified in doing so. Sometimes, he hates, or at least resents, the Ęsir. He was blessed, or cursed, to be Berserkr from the time of his birth, which has radically altered what sort of life he might have had. But Bowen also likes who he is, and secretly enjoys his power, which makes him somewhat grateful.

It's complicated.

Goals: Bowen's ultimate goal is, ironically, to have a goal. Yes, he works in order to acquire food/beer money...and he pursues his love-life with the intensity that he does anything else, but these aren't the things that he really desires in his heart of hearts. One might even think that his Hunting activities would be related to an ultimate goal. But in reality, Bowen has basically turned his "disability" (the berserkergang) into a socially altruistic act. More to assuage his guilt at hurting the innocent than anything else though. Sure, he'd rather help a stranger than hurt them, but Hunting monsters and helping people isn't the burning need that keeps him up at night.

What does keep him up at night is the...sheer desire to have a goal, an tangible direction in his life. Some passion that will make his life not just the story of a man wasting time until his death.

Fears: Seriously harming, or even killing, innocent people. His inner nature. Basically, Bowen isn't scared of things that go bump in the night. He's scared of himself. It is a cliche that everyone is their own worst enemy, but in his case this is literally true. Even the smallest slip could have him come out of his rage covered in innocent blood. Most of his nightmares include him standing over the bodies of those who didn't deserve it. And the cold laughter of Hel.

Mundane Skills

Automotive Maintenance - While he has no formal education in the matter, Bo is actually a rather skilled grease monkey. His focus is on motorcycles, but he can figure out which parts of a Prius make it go vroom-vroom if he needs too.

Pugilism - Fancy way of saying that Bowen can crack skulls with the best of them. Once again, Bo had no formal or organized education in the matter, but learned from the school of hard knocks. From the abuse he suffered at the hands of his father, to trading hands with monsters, to bustin' heads of the drunks when he's working, Bowen knows his way around the ol' fisticuffs.

Outdoorsmanship - Hiking, hunting, fishing, camping...the good things in life. Basically the amalgamation of skills that would keep his ass alive in the woods should the zombie apocalypse come. Which come to think of it, isn't as far fetched as you might think.

Archaic Weaponry - Due to the nature of his...nature, Bowen eschews the firearms that other contemporary Hunters might use. In the grips of the berserkergang, precision aiming is a bit difficult. As such, Bowen knows his way around an axe and sword the way most guys know the stats of their favorite sports teams.


Berserkergang - Berserkir let loose with powerful emotional bursts fueled by their primal inner fury. When they rage, Berserkir gain a number of powerful benefits, including an apparent supernatural increase in strength, an ability to deal more damage, and greater insensitivity to many forms of physical damage. This rage usually lasts a short while, but with experience and training most Berserkir can extend it indefinitely.

Immunities - neither fire nor iron has effect upon Berserkir. It is a blessing from Odin, and allows them to fight on when lesser men would have been felled in battle. While this is quite useful when fighting, Bowen also uses it to win bar bets with his trusty Zippo lighter. In retrospect, maybe he should have been a firefighter.


Human Frailty - Aside from the whole fire and iron thing, Bowen is just as vulnerable to everything else that the fleshy bags of meat known as Humans can be killed by.

Backstory: Bowen Gunnarsson was born in a filthy tent outside of Colville, Washington. A "home birth," to use the modern vernacular. But 1977 was a crazy year, and Bowen had crazy parents. They were a strange mixture of hippies and survivalist isolationists. Their odd little woodland commune might have seemed idyllic from the outside, with it's quaint Earth-friendly cabins and homemade foodstuffs, but it was much more insidious.

True, Bowen's Vietnam-veteran father taught him much about living on the land, enough to make an Eagle scout blush, but it was anything but gentle and nurturing. His father was a drunk, and a mean one at that. When he wasn't trying to teach Bowen the life lessons he thought he needed to learn, he was usually hitting the bottle, or hitting Bowen's mother. Needless to say, Bowen did a lot of maturing in a short amount of time. He was fortunate enough to get schooling in basic arithmetic and letters from his mother, but he doesn't even have a GED to his name. Not that it mattered, because he learned much more brutal lessons for the majority of his youth.

He grew to hate his father. Every night he would go to bed with fresh bruises, and pray that he would grow up to be strong enough to defend himself and his mother. And one night when he was sixteen, something answered his prayers. The Allfather came to him in his sleep, and bade him hunt down a grizzly bear and wear it's pelt. Such was the strength of the dream that he did so the moment he woke. Three days later, he went to sleep wrapped in warm fur. It was then that Odin came to him again and imbued him with the power of the Berserkr. The next morning, when Bowen's father came to begin one of his drunken rants that ended with fists, Bowen struck first. Everything went red, and all he could hear was his own howling. When he came too, his fathers cabin had been burned to the ground, and his hands were covered in blood. That would have been bad enough, but at the edge of their property, he found his mother unconscious with bruises on her face.

Bowen panicked, and broke the rules of their commune by leaving the woods and bringing her to the Providence Mount Carmel Hospital. She was in a coma from cerebral edema. Disgusted and horrified by his own actions, Bowen ran away. Far away. So far that his sins couldn't find him. Weeks of hitchhiking eventually brought him to Chicago. It was the biggest place he had ever seen, and he decided to get lost in the city. With barely a basic education, no birth certificate, and only his physicality as an asset, Bowen had to work under the table. Usually as a bouncer. Nobody wanted to mess with him, even as an older teenager. Thus began a twenty-six year journey.

He learned the ways of the big city. He grew up. A lot. Learned a few things about engines, became one of the best damn bouncers in the city, discovered the secret supernatural underside to life in Chicago, killed a lot of monsters, and left behind a string of exes. But all that learning, love, and adventure takes its toll. He burned a lot of bridges, and eventually grew to hate the whole damn city. As such, on a wild whim, he jumped on his Harley-Davidson Fat Boy and headed for the Big Easy. He'd always been a blues fan, and enjoyed him some spicy food. Why not try living in a grand city like New Orleans for a while? With no greater goal, and only a particular skillset, the aging Berserkr tries to make peace with the inevitable routine that will eventually lead to his death.