Most men would state that demise is a thing to be dreaded; none of those men would be Olaf. The Berserker lives just for the thunder of a call to war and the conflict of steel. Impelled on by his strive after grandness and the approaching condemnation of a forgettable passing, Olaf devotes himself completely to each battle with total surrender. Surrendering to the bloodlust profound inside his being, Olaf is just really alive when pondering the jaws of death.
The beach front landmass of Lokfar is among the most merciless places in the Freljord. There, seethe is the main fire to warm solidified bones, blood is the main fluid that streams unreservedly, and there is no more terrible destiny than to develop old, fragile, and overlooked. Olaf was a warrior of Lokfar with no lack of glories and no delay to share them. While bragging one night with his clansmen over the consuming ashes of a demolished town, one of the senior warriors became worn out on Olaf's rave. The old warrior prodded Olaf to peruse the signs and check whether Olaf's fortunes coordinated his bragging. Encouraged by the test, Olaf taunted the matured looter's envy and hurled the knuckle bones of a long-dead mammoth to foresee the statures of wonderfulness he'd accomplish in death. All jollity left the social occasion as the clansmen read the signs: the bones discussed a long life and a calm passing.
Rankled, Olaf raged into the night resolved to demonstrate the expectation false by finding and butchering Lokfar's dreaded ice serpent. The beast had expended thousands, man and ship alike, in its long lifetime and to kick the bucket in fight with it would be a fitting end for any warrior. As Olaf heaved himself into the darkness of its throat, he fell further into the obscurity of his brain. At the point when the stun of solidifying water awakened him from the dim, there was just the butchered corpse of the brute above water adjacent to him. Ruined yet not vanquished, Olaf set out to chase down each unbelievable animal with paws and teeth, trusting that the following fight would be his last. Each time he charged fast toward his pined for death, just to be saved by the free for all that washed over him while on its verge.
Olaf reasoned that no unimportant mammoth could concede him a warrior's demise. His answer was to go up against the most fearsome tribe in the Freljord: the Winter's Claw. Sejuani seemed delighted by Olaf's test to her warband, yet his boldness would procure him no benevolence. She requested the charge and sent scores of her warriors to overpower Olaf. One by one, they fell until the point that he lost himself in the bloodlust by and by, easily slicing a way to the pioneer of the Winter's Claw. The conflict amongst Olaf and Sejuani shook the ice sheets with its power, and however he appeared to be relentless, Sejuani combat the berserker to a halt. As they stood halted, Sejuani's glare entered Olaf's berserker murkiness in a way no weapon ever could. His free for all subsided sufficiently long for her to make him an offer: Sejuani swore that she would discover Olaf his grand passing on the off chance that he would loan his hatchet to her battle of victory. At that time, Olaf pledged he would cut his inheritance into the Freljord itself.
''When you meet your precursors, reveal to them Olaf sent you.''
- Olaf
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