Welcome to the Home of The Accidental Survivors

-Stats-

Equipment:
Claymore, Full Leather Armour, Bottle of Spirits, Healing Draught

Background:
When Lögvarr’s second son was born, his fortunes were ill. His lands were infertile, his livestock sickly, and a wounded leg kept him from going Viking. The village of Norgaard was a prosperous one, wedged between mountains and sea, but ill luck had fallen upon Lögvarr’s clan. As is the tradition among the Norse, when a child is born deformed or the family is incapable of supporting another life, the baby is not given a name, not made a part of the family, and is exposed to the elements and allowed to die. It being the dead of winter, the newborn would not live long.

So it was a surprise when the babe was discovered alive the very next morning, having been sheltered by a white wolf, which kept him warm as if he were its own pup. The village Skald had come to witness the end of the child, but found it alive in the snow, guarded by the wolf. The beast only left after the Skald had picked up the infant and sworn he would see it raised safely… or so the old lorekeeper always claimed. He returned the babe home and convinced Lögvarr to claim the babe as his son, and naming the boy Ulfvarr, which means “the wolf’s (Ulrich’s) man/warrior”.

Eighteen years passed, and over time the children of Lögvarr numbered five: his sons were Trygverr (trustworthy man), Ulfvarr (Ulrich’s warrior), Geirvarr (spearman), Gíslvarr (the archer/warrior of the arrow), and their sister Aelfreyja (the elf lady); named after the strange midwife that arrived to deliver the child in a difficult birth, promising great blessings upon her.

Ulfvarr himself grew exceedingly tall and strong, the most rebellious and outspoken of sons, more likely to listen to his brothers than his father – especially Trygverr, who was the peacemaker of the family. Still, there was no denying that Ulfvarr’s birth had marked a turning point in Lögvarr’s fortunes, and perhaps that is why the father seemed to resent the son so, for the boy’s fame outshone his father’s, and never did the child feel in debt to his sire, or moved to honour him above other men. Instead, all his devotion went to Ulrich, whom he saw as his true father: a delusion that the Skald was only too happy to foster.

In the winter of Ulfvarr’s eighteenth year, the region was plagued by attacks from goblins, ogres, and trolls. The youth nearly earned a hero’s name, then: going berserk in the worst of the fights, and regaining his head only after the battle ended and he stood alone. He held in his bloodied hands an oddity; a fine-crafted knife made for a giant (the proof of which being one of the giant’s fingers, which was still trapped in his grip), rather than the crude clubs or axes they normally favoured. It was nearly in a state of ruin, and to this day Ulfvarr only faintly remembers the taking of it. Still, he was one of the lucky few, the survivors, and hailed as a hero. A welcome that he spoiled within a week by bedding the daughters of several of the village’s most prosperous and respected families… including two of the Thane’s own.

Shortly thereafter, Ulfvarr was ‘invited’ to leave the village. Norse berserkers are highly valued as mercenaries, and if he had any head for money he’d have made his fortune. Instead he wandered through two employers before ending up working on a ship named The Lucky Doris…