A swaggering Viking strolls in, a Dane by the look of him. Dark hair tumbles from underneath his conical helm, and a bristling moustache and beard, neatly trimmed, adorn his face. A sax hangs from his belt, and a well-worn iron sword is strapped across his broad back.

He strides resolutely to the front of the hall, gazing about curiously, until finally, he stops and speaks...

Where be the Jarl of this hall, that I may give homage and swear fealty? I am Hrothgar, late of Sjælland. My ship was lost on the whale's way, and I seek the worthy lord of this land, to offer my mighty sword Gram in recompense for his hospitality...