You are Baldr, prince of Jutland. You were born to a family of conquerors. Two generations ago, your grandfather Ragthenn was contracted by a small coalition of Jutlanders in order to fight off marauding raiders, but these lords balked when the time came to pay their contract. In a wroth, Ragthenn led his band of mercenaries into Jutland and conquered village after village until he possessed a mighty swath of the center of the territory. Their superior arms laid low the disorganized tribes and the petty kings of the region. His sellsword company was known as the 'Blood-Axe Band,' which inspired the sigil of your house– a magma red axe with a grey handle, set upon an ebony field. Towards the end of his life, he seized the bustling towns of Arhus and Velje, making the former his capital. On the day he died, every inch between the Kong river - in the south - and the northern coast of Sallig was his.

Owing to his vast wealth and conquests, it was only natural that the maidens of his demesne differed to him and his seed. He had many sons and daughters, and only the strongest won out. Harald, your father, was not the rightful king, but he became king all the same. As a father, he was distant and cold, but scarcely cruel. You'd grown to respect, and fear, his piercing blue eyes and stern chin. Harald took the throne in his 36th year as Ragthenn lived to be quite old. He lacked his father's lust, taking only a wife and making the occasional pass with a concubine. As such, you had only three siblings.

But this story is not about your father nor grandfather, but of the greatest of all - Baldr. In time you will assemble a host the likes of which the world has scarcely seen. All of Europa will lie in wake at midnight, terrified of long ships and black sails on the ocean's horizon. Kings will kneel before you and princesses will submit to you - but that comes in time.

Today, you awake...