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A tall, broad shouldered Ulfen enters the room. He has the pale blond hair of his kind with eyes grey as a thunderstorm. His full pack is carried high and light while his leather lamellar shows only light use. The old fashioned, yet fashionable falcata marks the man as a noble savage, but the great round shield bespiked with the telltale pitting of cold iron denotes that while he may be noble, he is still a savage. Putting too fine a point on it, a greatclub is slung over his back and axes hang from his hip. This man is come 'aviking and is gleeful in his pursuit of mayhem.

Vilgeirr was born the fifth child of nine and third son to Isleif and Agetha. Growing up in the town Ullerskad in the Thanelands of the Land of the Linnorm Kings, he was steeped in the traditions of the Ulfen Guard. He knew every retired shieldman and maiden in the town and was never happier than sitting fireside in their longhouses reminiscing about the "good ole days" of fighting assassins and ferreting out spies of the hated Qadirans. He learned that the Guard were not only bodymen to the Grand Prince of Taldor, no! Their charge was to protect the bearer of the Primogen Crown, regardless of the personal worth or honor of it's bearer. As he often heard Isleif say, "We gave our word, each of us, to protect he who bears the Primogen Crown. We do not judge their worth nor do we hold them to their word. Their honor is not for us to care. It is our own honor, that of our own word that we must uphold. Our oath is our bond and in over one thousand five hundred years not one of us has forsaken that vow."

Isleif was a mighty warrior, a huscarl to be reckoned with in the shieldwall. His true claim to fame though was his mastery of the Taldan falcata. It was a weapon he picked up during his own service in the Ulfen Guard. Several of the other veterans from his father's time would sometimes quietly mention Isleif's training with Dominicus Rell, advisor to the Grand Prince. Vilgeirr loved to watch his father practice with the exotic blade; how could a sword cut like an axe?

No matter how keen the boy was to watch his father, he was held in awe of Agetha's prowess with the shield. She was a famed skirnir, a shieldmaiden, weaving magic through her shield as if it was her hand itself. She trained his older sister, Briða in the mystic arts. A huscarl in her own right, she trained all of her children in the use of the shield. Vilgeirr learned how to make the shield an extension of his own person, gaining greater advantage from its protection and simultaneously attacking and defending with it.

As he grew older, Isleif began to teach his son the basics of the southern sword style. Vilgeirr took to the strange swordplay and quickly became proficient in it's use, favoring it over the axe, broadsword and spear. In the winter of his fourteenth year, Isleif presented his son with a falcata of his own. Agetha gifted Vilgeirr a great round shield studded with spikes of cold iron, the bane of their traditional enemies in the stolen lands of Irrisen. It was explained to him that he was being granted leave to accompany, Briða, as she traveled to Taldor to join the Ulfen Guard. He would join his uncle's household until he, too, was old enough to petition the Guard.

Vilgeirr was elated. He could hardly wait until that spring when the winter storms abated and the ice melted. When shipping once again became possible, they set off down the Rimeflow to Kalsgard and booked passage on a trading knorr heading south. Over the several months of travel, Vilgeirr took turns at the oar, the rudder and the helm, learning the intricacies of piloting and sailing.

Upon reaching the shores of Taldor, they headed into the mouth of a great river and sailed north to the capital city, Oppara. Never had Vilgeirr known such a magnificent place. All of the tales and histories paled in comparison to the actual sight. He was dumbstruck that so large a city could exist and the massive bridge arching over the river was dwarfed only by the Arch of Aroden itself. Disembarking, they were met by their uncle, who took possession of the fine trade goods his brother had sent to secure his children's upkeep in addition to his niece and nephew. Impatient to join the Guard, Briða could barely contain herself as they made their way to the Staggering Skald, where they both gaped at the sights of their countrymen who were already members of that famed company. Staying the night, their uncle presented his oldest niece the next morning. After seeing to her placement, he took Vilgeirr to his home. There he met his aunt and cousins.

The next three years went by quickly as the young viking learned the ways of the south from his uncle and his family. The lands were very warm for much of the year and even the winters were mild with snow never making it to the eaves of the house let alone covering it completely. Never one to be bothered by a bit of cold, Vilgeirr took to wearing light clothing year round much to the consternation of his aunt, herself a southerner. When she needled him about staying warm he would laugh and shake his head waving her off as he went about his day.

Finally his eighteenth year arrived and he traveled with his uncle to petition the Ulfen Guard. Upon meeting their famed leader, Kol Kodranson, he found himself looking him straight in the eye. after years amongst the small people of Taldor, he only at that moment realized how he had grown to the size of a man of the north. Kol mentioned his sister and how well she fared amongst her fellow Ulfen. He looked the young man up and down and nodded approvingly. Upon seeing the falcata hanging from Vilgeirr's belt, he smiled and laughed. "Truly, one of Isleif's brood, with that wicked axe-knife these people so revere. Tell me, do you share your mother's blood gifts?"

"If you ask, whether or not I can make my shield spout fire, then no, for that is a skill passed from mother to daughter. If instead you ask can I best any warrior with only a shield? Then, yes, I am as formidable as Agetha herself." Vilgeirr answered with a bold grin.

Koldarson returned the boy's smile and nodded his acceptance. "The son of two huscarls are always welcome to our band of brothers and sisters. Come take your oath and serve the Primogen Crown for the length of your life... or at least a single year; whichever may come first."

After taking the oath and spending several weeks training in the ways of guarding the Grand Prince and working out puzzles and questions put forth by his fellows, Vilgeirr was summoned to the offices of his commander.

"Vilgeirr Isleifson, get your gear and hie yourself to the Grand Bridge. There's a caravan heading south and you need to ensure they get as far as the Qadiran border. No, you don't need to know why. Go no further! Once they are safely there, turn around and come back." Kol instructed the young man.

Waving him away, Koldarson turned back to his mountain of paperwork. As Vilgeirr turned to leave, the commander hollered after, "Oh, and don't forget that pig chopper of yours, Taldan-at-heart. Har! har! har!"