Bogsveigir

Born in the south (the Deep South) of Vinland, Bogs went a viking at the age of 18. He sailed across the ocean occidental to his land, and wound-up in the oriental waters. Through many trials, trails, and travails, he wound-up in Muspellheim, a fiery, humid land. He languished in the bland, mosquito-plagued flatness for years, before a chain of events led to his eventual escape with his bride-to-be. In the mountains of Western North Carolina, near the infamous 'Tail of the Dragon', he started a new life. No longer was he working with computational devices disseminating information; he now toils the early mornings away mixing doughs and baking them into hearty breads for the falsely discriminant populace. In the early afternoons, Bogs can be found piloting his mech around the various battlefields, raining furious volleys of verdant cohesive light across and through his enemies' mechs.

These are my protons, there are many like them, but these were mine. They must rain death upon my enemies who are trying to rain death upon me. I must support my lancemates, who are trying to support me. Practice radical Lagom. F.I.D.O.

Armoring, tinkering, trying to figure how to reassemble my motorcycles.