Ivar Bjornson

Background:

  Kattagat, a sea village on the Sea of Claws in the Empire of man's Norldland province. A Thriving place, with good fishing in the fjord, and rare fertile farm land inland. It is these exact qualities that draw the attention of the forces of destruction to it. Norscans from across the sea, and Beastmen and Goblins from the Forests further inland. As such Kattagat has seen its fair share of raids, from both the land and the sea. It is a testament to the hardiness of these Nordlanders that call this place home that they are not only able to survive in this hostile environment, but actually still thrive in it. If you ask any of them, it is due to the villages devotion to Ulric, the god of Winter and War.
  It is in this village 27 years ago under a blood moon on the winter solstice that Ivar was born, the son of Bjorn a respected warrior and seamen of the village. Bjorn both respected his god, and knew the dangers of living near the sea of claw, so took to training Ivar in both the theology of Ulric, as well as the martial practices used  to honor their god and their very survival. But unlike the savage Norscans across the sea, the Nordlanders also understood the value of knowledge and learning. Thus Bjorn also ensure his son had the education to not only read his lord Ulric's scriptures and tenants, but to write his opinions and thoughts down as well as speak the languages of the people that boarder Nordland.
  For 15 winters he taught his son, imparting all the knowledge he could into him, until finally he deemed him worthy of the highest of honors in his mind. Thus it was that he took his savings and bought Ivar passage to Middenheim to study at the high temple of Ulric, to learn the deeper secrets of their god so he could dedicate himself to serving Ulric in repayment for all the aid Ulric provides to the Village they called home, helping to preserve it from their marauding enemies bent on blood and destruction. Now 12 years later Ivar Bjornson is a fully fledged Warrior Priest of Ulric, taking his axe and shield where Ulric deems him needed, never questioning his lords wisdom. Indeed these trips sometimes even take him back to Kattagat to help fend off one raid or another. On these occasions, with the homecoming of his son, and the chance to fight at his side once again before he becomes to old to truly make a difference, Bjorn throws a feast, and that means good food, a warm hearth, all the ale you can drink, and many toasts to Ulric.
  Most recently these travels and service to Ulric have taken Ivar to the Drakwald Forest to help repel some raids by beastmen of Nurgle. This was a task he took to with holy zeal, for he considers it his sacred duty to complete Ulrics decree of ridding the world of chaos, especially the twisted mockeries of mankind, the Skaven and beastmen. Indeed Ivar was reaping a good harvest of the foul creatures, having slain 3 of them personally when a foul ritual took hold, and a blinding light filled the battlefield. When this subsided, Ivar and the steam tank he was helping protect were both gone, vanished to Ulric knows where.

Anoint yourself with the blood of Ulric that you shall not fear to bleed. Pledge yourself to Ulric's work that you shall not fear to suffer. Give yourself to Ulric that you shall not fear to die. For if you find yourself alone, standing in fields of snow with the cool wind on your face, Do not be troubled for you are in Ulrics' hunting grounds! And you are already dead! Ivar Bjornson to the Imperial troops At the Battle of Drakwald

Appearance and Personality:

  Ivar Bjornson, Warrior priest of Ulric is an imposing site, standing 6'4" and weighing 17 stones. This makes him larger than the vast majority of the Empires citizens, yet still slightly smaller that the Norscans he is so accustomed to fighting. Like most Ulric followers Ivar has long Hair and a beard. In his case they are Platinum Blonde almost white. Ivar keeps his Head shaved on the sides and back, ringed in tattoos of Ulric runes and symbols, as well as down the left side of his face over his eye. The long hair from the top of his head pulled back in a long thick braid hanging to mid back. His armor is a fine well kept plate breastplate and pauldrons, wolf fangs ringing the waist of the breast plate. Looping over this a thick chain, running diagonal from his right shoulder to left waist, from which hangs a copy of one of Ulrics most sacred books, The Ulric Creed. His legs are covered by high quality supple black leather robes lined on the inside with chainmail armor that hangs to his ankles, split to the waist in the front for movement. Over his plate pauldrons, a luxurious well kept grey wolf pelt drapes his shoulders with the head resting on the right shoulder, a black cape and hood, flowing from the pelt, The hood again made of supple black leather to keep the rain off his pate (after all Ulric requires his warriors to be brave, and forthright, not to bath in the rain).
  When most people meet Ivar for the first time they are usually surprised. Here is a man who obviously is a Norlander, and a following we Ulric to boot, so for sure he's going to be crude and boorish and a bit barbaric. Then Ivar greets them, and they find themselves in the presence of no boorish barbarian, but a well spoken educated man, that speaks many languages. Once the shock of this they find themselves in the presence of a true devotee of Ulric, honest, forthright, truthful in all things he approaches, and indeed even Jovial when around his companions and other warriors. Drinking ale and mead with them, laughing and boasting, telling tale of adventures past. This is part of the charm of Ivar that makes him such a good warrior priest to the god of battle, because these qualities, open, forthright, easy to drink and feast with, even for the lowest of warriors, these are the qualities that raises the spirits and keeps the morale of men high. 
  This is but one shock people receive when meeting Ivar, the second shock comes later, when they first witness him in battle. Here in battle, all the refinement of his education vanishes, and he embodies the true savage spirit of Ulric, reveling in battle. The clash of arms and shields music to his ears as he wades into his enemies, just on the cusp of a berserker frenzy as his axe raises and falls, felling men like cords of wood as his booming voice chants out his litanies to Ulric, dedicating his battle to him and honoring him with each foe felled.

Ulric give me the fangs of the wolf. Ulric give me the claws of the wolf. Ulric give me the coat of the wolf. And I will show your enemies the mercy of the wolf. Ivar Bjornson Chanting litanies to Ulric in battle