An' old sodden son of a wench if you were to see one at your gut's height, Ulfrundir stood barely at an' average Dwed's height and with the scruffiest damned beard this side of the sea. Born and bred a'top a wooden deck with an' oar within' his grasp at a young age the dark skinned stain worked the decks of merchant vessels for longer than most; from the day he'd been brought into the sodding world until the day he'd met Kaz'Ulrah's steps with a rum fueled gut and a love of a good hairy woman to marvel at his jokes. It'd started many years 'fore the wars and pilgrimages which had brought the land lovers to the wretched isles of 'Axios' as they'd called 'em.. Scurried a'top the decks of merchant and war vessels a'like to escape the storm of rage which followed. You'd never have seen a sight a'like it 'cept for ol' Ulfrundir who sat a'top his perch laughing all the while!
"Come ya' ol' sods! Run fer' ya' lives t'e th' boatin' folk, 'fore we'h kick yer' arse from th' top deck t'e th' poop'n one! Bahahaha!"
An' old chimp swinging from a perch would've been an' apt description for the Dwarf at that time. Drunk and happy as he'd eyed the chaos around the flotilla as they'd hauled the anchor back a'top the waves and set off quicker than an' Orc let into the Elven Dominion on a warm summer day.. With an' axe to his side and the glory of warfare before him. Yet what happened before.. The old Dwed wouldn't a clue if you'd ask.. Years of rum and liqueur enough to fuel an' engine have addled the poor sod's mind and left him with a love for the time and not the age.. And so began the journey, fresh on the shores and with an' old bottle of 'Angustine Rum' to settle his gut this old sea dog let his feet take him wherever they would.
"Ah'm com'n 'ome pal', wi' wha'e'er th' waves taught me'h t'e guide ma' steps.. An' nae' a rud'eh wee' bit less! Bahahaha!"
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