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Ivarr was born to a former thrall-turned-pirate and a woman stolen during a raid, an inauspicious start to the young man's life. Most of Ivarr's memories of his mother are peaceful ones, though short-lived, as he was taken to ship as soon as he was old enough to stand and take some part of it. It's his father that was a driving force in Ivarr's life, a warrior and role model that shaped the way he looked at the world. Spending his formative years at sea, Ivarr learned the ways of sailing, of fighting, and of piracy as a lifestyle. Fate is inexorable, however, and Ivarr can still recall the day they were overtaken, his father's guts laid out and body tossed to sea, his own capture, and the death of most of the crew. He was pressed into service, this time as a Thraxian thrall, and his story nearly ended there. At the age of sixteen, however, they were overtaken by pirates and reavers and he distinguished himself with bloody skill - so much so that he was given his freedom, and a name. From that point onward he sailed in defense of the Thraxians, though often he found it easy enough to convince his crew mates to make a stop and raid a village, or take an unsuspecting merchant in their long ship. It was his bloodthirsty disregard of rules that led the crew to pick him as captain of the ship, and that built up his reputation as a true Thaxian, a man of blood and iron and salt. It was only when the tradition of keeping thralls was threatened that he decided he needed to become more active, and find someone to swear himself to. An ambitious man, he's come to Arx to look for an ambitious leader to follow, to make rich, to kill for, and to advance with.

Without an ounce of fat on his body, and hardened by a lifetime at sea, Ivarr is a man that's seen violence in his lifetime. His jet black hair is shaved at the sides, then pulled back into one long braid, and pale blue eyes stare out under black eyebrows at his surroundings. His face is scarred, though conventionally handsome, if angular. A jet black beard is worn on his cheeks, with the ends at his chin braided into two long plaits. He has broad shoulders, thick muscles, and his large hands have the callouses of a sailor or soldier, if not both, judging by the scars and tattoos down his arms. When visible, his back, chest, stomach, and legs are all covered in various inked images of sea battles, mythical monsters, and traditional sailor flash.

Ivarr is a hardened man, given to seeking glory, and aggressive actions. Having been a pirate, and a thrall, and now a freed man, he has little shame or modesty when it comes to himself. He has no qualms about blood, and is of the mind that a few acts of hard and severe violence will save trouble down the road. Further still, while not cruel, he enjoys fighting, and killing, and the rush of battle, embodying the traits that give the Thrax their reputation. He's a man's man, and at his heart, a traditionalist, believing that thralls should be kept as thralls, and piracy is a good thing, and if someone is weak or unprepared then they don't deserve to keep what's theirs. He has a quick tongue that lends itself to bloody humour, and at his heart, he's a pragmatist, unafraid to run if the situation calls for it, and always open to new ideas in a military sense. He'd rather be feared than loved. He's the type of man to be fiercely loyal to someone he's pledged himself to, so much so as to ignore rules of respect or propriety in dealing with the enemies of a liege. This extends to those under his command or that follow him, to whom he has a sense of duty and family that is beyond his own safety or interests. He's also prone to drink, before, or after battles especially, and he has almost an inability to pass up a gamble.