A Crown of Frost
Volker "Iron-tooth" Ulliam
A glinting smile of iron, supplemented by tattoos and a rather unfriendly looking ax....
Never described as being tall, muscular, or particularly hansom, what Volker lacks in romance he makes up with in resilience. Standing at only 5’7, 150 pounds, Volker suffers from a long term growth stunt stemming from malnutrition, and too much weight in his pack. Although he may not sound very imposing, the grating of dull iron fangs in his smile is something that is often not easily forgotten. His chain-mail is scarred by countless battles and rent by harsh weather.
Marching in the kings army since he was old enough to swing an ax, Volker has served as a scout for nearly 20 years. Initially picked up as a warrior for a local tribe that had allied with the losing side of the war, Volker quickly found himself re-enlisted fighting for the very army that had killed his father. Serving with no illusions of freedom, Volker carried out his duties alongside the worst scum of society. All of his comrades were criminals of some form or another, and the only thing that they had in common was that they were all there to die, to be purged from the earth in the fires of war. Much to the dismay of commanding nobles however, Volker and his companions refused to die. By the end of his 20 years of servitude he had a loyal group of 50 fellow veterans that had managed to survive out of the initial thousand. Having served at every hopeless siege, every bloody last stand, and every pointless skirmish, Volker was only happy to be out of the service of the king. Now that he is a noble, Volker has made sure to reward his fellow soldiers from the war by knighting all 50 of them and calling them his personal guard.