Black hair as a Viking? As a true man of Scandinavia, I must scoff. Also, lumberjacks are a rip-off of Vikings, only peaceful. Superfluous, in my opinion.
Name: Erling Jernberg (in fact the name of the best teacher I have ever had, and such a manly man, you could never even begin to imagine his greatness)
Gender: Male
Age: 35 long, hardening years in the blizzard.
Equipment: Large bear fur over his shoulders, sack of provisions and a water pouch.
Weapons and armour: Huge double-bladed battle-axe, sturdy hard leather armour and metal-plated leather and fur boots.
Bio: Erling was born the son of the leader of the great village Värmdal, and was destined to lead it as chieftain. He did not desire this however, and set out on his own quest to explore the world and gain glory.
Looks: 6'1, the, by miles, manliest and most studied fumanchurian moustache you have ever seen in real life, only thicker and not as long, a small beard, bulging muscles, a chin chiselled out of granite and rough skin. Very blonde, the hair beginning to thin. Sturdily built, but agile enough.
Sorry guys, but I can't miss this chance to role-play this role-model of mine. Besides, I am Swedish; I have to be a Viking. Oh, and "Jernberg" means "Iron Mountain".
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The blizzard was unrelenting...
Erling... was indomitable.
His clan, the Jernbergians of the Iron Mountain village and community were at full war with mysterious invaders of the cybernetic kind. Nothing the proud Northern warriors were familiar with, but war was their lifeblood. The metallic invaders would regret the transgression soon enough. Erling however, was not one for defence.
As his leviathan boots oppressed the fresh snow of Scandinavia as they had done for more than 30 long years now, his experienced eyed scanned the environment with a gaze that had seen many things this world had to offer. He had arrived at a cyborg settlement, that much was clear. Overlooking the valley from his advantageous position, there were some of the abominations that seemed more like leaders of a kind, and they would be his prey.
Rumbling from within him, he unleashed a mighty and lengthy scoff that made the very roots of the mountain render with trepidation*. The ground shook mightily, and threw several cyborgs off balance. Their bi-pedal ways of transportation was not fit for the Scandinavian terrain at all, and upon met with this quake, most of them fell to never rise again with a mighty crash to the icy ground.
*(for more information on how this is possible, visit www.howerlingcanshaketherootsofthemountainsthatdonotexist.com)
Snow and ice sprayed in the air. Erling put his hands to his side and grinned with such charisma that the sun itself was ashamed to show itself behind the misty clouds of the lands*, and proceeded to rush down the mountain, axe in hand, to attack what seemed like the leader of this pack of sardine cans. His battle-axe roared through the air with a terrible screech to meet its target with certain impending doom.
*(for more information on charisma, contact your local politician. they are usually very charming)
