That's Not Irony
There's this webcomic I like called Guilded Age. It's a game-based epic fantasy comic done right, following a band of adventurers as they solve problems with violence, with varying degrees of success. Sort of a less-tongue-in-cheek-but-still-snarky version of the magnificent Order of the Stick, with really top-notch artwork.*
(* -- Not that OotS's artwork is BAD, necessarily. Artist Rich Burlew uses clever, clean minimalism to load his comic with visual information. But it's still stick figures. And GA ... ain't stick figures.)
Byron the Berserker leads Guilded Age's little band of combat-savvy misfits, and as their leader, does a damn fine job. He's level-headed, has a good nose for strategy, inspires loyalty from his crew, etc., etc. Thing is, as a an actual warrior, he's ... well, not incompetent, certainly. Dude can handle himself. But when it's time to bring the pain, plate-clad nun-gone-bad murder machine Frigg Akerfeldt is the team's go-to gal. Byron has a nasty habit of getting clobbered in fights where you'd think he'd at least make it interesting. As a frustrated Frigg herself put it after he got taken out yet again early in a brawl, "Byron, you useless piece of shit. If you're gonna get chumped alla time, stay dead!"
He's got "Berserker" on his business cards, and one of his defining traits is "level-headed." It's enough to make a reader wonder if Byron's name is the fantasy equivalent of nicknaming a bald guy "Curly," or a fat dude "Slim." Eight chapters into the story, and not a single frothing berserker rage -- or even a hint that one may possibly have been imminent -- to be seen.
The wait. It was so very worth it.