"He was trapped between a raging barbarian and a voracious predator... Scratch that; he was trapped between two voracious predators."
There aren’t words applied to Olaf’s physique that are used very often in reference to humans. Inhuman is actually a rather common one. He stands nearly seven feet tall and is wider at the thigh than many are at the waist. He wears the head and skin of a bear over his long, sea-worn blonde hair; some say he puts the “bear” back in berserker. His beard covers his face so that all that is visible between it and his helm are his scowling eyes. The average bar inhabitant is intimidated by what they imagine to be a big guy in a bad mood, but they don’t know the moods of Olaf. The scowl is promising; when the eyes spark and the sword comes out, the scowl is a precious memory of a time when you weren’t so dead. What can’t be solved by his captain with words and niceties he solves with a sword longer than the height of most men. “Have you met my first mate?” is a phrase that few have heard twice. Serving as First Mate for Cpt. Bloodlung has treated him well and allowed him to perfect his talents: making weapons and using them.