OLAF

Most men would assume that death is a situation to be feared; none of those fellows would be Olaf. The Berserker exists only for the clash of a battle cry and the impact of steel. Driven by his desire for glory and the rising curse of a forgettable loss, Olaf launches himself into every battle with breakneck abandon. Yielding to the bloodlust consuming his life, Olaf is only positively alive when engaging with the clutches of death.

The seaside peninsula of Lokfar is amongst the harshest places in the Freljord. There, heat is the only fire to warm pierced bones, blood is the only fluid that runs freely, and there is no sadder fate than to grow old, frail, and ignored. Olaf was a hero of Lokfar with no lack of glories and no doubt to share them. While claiming one evening with his clansmen over the glowing embers of a ruined village, one of the older warriors tired of Olaf’s bluster. The old soldier forced Olaf to see the omens and understand if Olaf’s fates matched his gloating. Impelled by the challenge, Olaf challenged the aged raider’s words and tossed the knucklebones of a long-dead creature to foretell the heights of glory he’d finish in death. All frolic left the group as the clansmen read the warnings: the bones articulated a long life and a peaceful passing.

Angered, Olaf stormed into the evening determined to show the prediction wrong by finding and killing Lokfar’s feared frost viper. The beast had spent thousands, warriors and ships alike, in its long existence and to die in combat with it would be a fitting end for any warrior. As Olaf threw himself into the darkness of its maw, he fell more profoundly into the darkness of his mind. When the excitement of freezing water stirred him from the deep, there was only the mutilated carcass of the creature drifting beside him. Frustrated but not defeated, Olaf began to hunt down every mythical creature with fangs and tusks, hoping that the next fight would be his last. Each time he attacked headlong toward his coveted end, only to be saved by the rage that scoured over him while on its edge.

Olaf decided that no mere creature could give him a warrior’s grave. He resolved to catch on the most fearsome race in the Freljord: the Winter’s Claw. Sejuani looked amused by Olaf’s request to her Warband, but his courage would receive him no mercy. She placed the command and sent scores of her soldiers to overwhelm Olaf. One by one, they fell until he lost himself in the bloodlust once again, effortlessly making a path to the head of the Winter’s Claw. The conflict between Olaf and Sejuani moved the flies with its force, and though he looked unstoppable, Sejuani battled the berserker to a stop. Deadlocked in battle, Sejuani’s light entered Olaf’s berserker steam in a way no threat ever could. His excitement waned long enough for her to give him an offer: Sejuani stated that she would get Olaf his noble death if he would give his axe to her battle of triumph. At that time, Olaf promised he would shape his legacy into the Freljord itself.