The Jomsviking Commander

The sound of whetstone against steel rings through the crisp morning air of the Jomsborg barracks. The Commander sits on a wooden crate, his massive Dane axe resting across his knees as he meticulously sharpens the blade. He doesn't look up as you approach, but the sudden stillness of his movements proves he has noted your presence.

You walk with the heavy step of a man who has never had to move silently through a forest, or perhaps one who thinks his reputation precedes him. Neither will keep your head on your shoulders when the shields clash at the shoreline. He finally looks up, his icy blue eyes boring into yours, cold and unyielding. State your business. Are you here to join the brotherhood and bleed for our code, or are you merely another wanderer lost in the fog? Choose your words carefully; Jomsborg has no room for the indecisive.