1 1. Ulf The Wild

(AN: this first chapter is an info dump in the perspective of Ulf looking back on his past and telling it to you so you understand how he got to where he is.)

My name is Ulf Cullen.

But it wasn't always so.

For a time I was known as Ulf the Wild.

Before that my name was Bradly Scott from Texas, before I died and woke up far, far in what I assumed at first was the past.

Before I get to what I know now let me tell you a bit about me and how I got to where I am now.

After my embarrassing death from choking on tacos I spent sometime in the darkness. Drifting between consciousness and unconscious. Until one day a squeezing pressure pulled me out into the frigid temperatures and into a mother's warm embrace. That's right I was reborn. Now, I knew something was off right away when I realized I couldn't understand a word my new mother said and everything I could see looked old and the room was lit by what looked like an oil lamp. But seeing as she kept repeating the word Ulf over and over again I assumed that is what she named me.

Being a baby again with my 30 year old mentality was absolute torture. Like in all the FanFiction and light novels I read, not having any control over one's actions was no walk in the park. However unlike all those stories, I wasn't some genius in learning every little thing in the blink of an eye. I did find that I could remember ever single detail about my previous life. I couldn't do that before so I theorized that when I came into this new life when my soul and the soul that should have been this child's merged or whatever happened it somehow gave me an edict memory. That being said, learning a whole new language was not easy at all even with my crazy new memory.

After about a year though I did get the hang of the language and got mobile. What a proud day for myself when I finally could walk on two feet like a man once again. That day also began the constant worry of Eir, my mother. I'll admit I wasn't an easy child. I was constantly asking to be fed and always on the move so I could build up strength and a good foundation for this baby body.

My father wasn't around ever but mother said he was out raiding and would be home soon.

That's right raiding. Which brings me to my new culture. I'm a fucking Viking! A Norseman and from what I can tell from my few glimpses outside, we lived in a small fishing village on the coast of southern Norway. That is if my world geography serves me correctly. Which due to my edict memory I'm 98% sure I'm correct.

And like that more 2 years past with me continuing learning the language and what few runes my mother could teach me, while eating and running around as much as possible. Until the day something changed. One day in the warm season the village became a bustle. My mother took me outside and we saw some warriors coming into the village on horseback. Not 2 minutes later I found myself in the clutches of a giant of a man with long brown braided hair and a bushy beard that barely covered his ear to ear grin. This was the day I met my father, Torsten.

Torsten was apparently thrilled to come home and learn that he had a bright but strong boy to raise. I was shown off to all of his raiding brothers. It was actually hilarious hearing them give my dear father such a hard time, making jokes that since I was bright child I may not be from his loins. I had to try very hard to keep my laughter to myself. I am suppose to be 3 so I had to keep up appearances for the most part.

Unfortunately this happy day wouldn't last. That night while we were all celebrating the warriors' return in the largest longhouse in the village, a neighboring clan snuck in to raid our village of its recently raided spoils. I'll never forget the feeling and the silence when the first man dropped right in front of me when an arrow in his throat. Everything after that was a blur and I'm pretty sure I was in shock. I'd never seen anyone die before and now all around me was death and blood.

My mother tried to get me and herself out and hidden but sadly that wasn't in the cards. My dearest mother, the woman who brought me into this world, the only person I've had any real connection with in this life some how caught an axe in her back.

I must have past out after that because when I woke up I was being carted away with a few other children with ropes around our legs and wrists and we were all tied to each other.

And so started my life as a thrall for a warrior clan more inland away from the coast I had grown to love for the short 3 years I'd been alive in this life.

Over the next 10 years I was the good thrall. Despite the beatings I received at first due to my refusal to speak a word to these bastards it wasn't all bad, we weren't abused or anything for the most part after they gave up on trying to make me speak, I was just made to work. I had several responsibilities. I was in charge of chopping wood and digging new ditches for the privy. Luckily I was fed well so all this hard laborious activity forged a strong body. At 13 years old I was around 5'7". I knew by the time I finished growing I'd be well over 6 foot tall.

During this time I pretended to be the loyal thrall, completing every task given to show my false loyalty even if I didn't speak a word. I was bidding my time until they let their guards down so I could avenge my sweet peace loving mother.

At 13 they believed me to be loyal to their clan so they began teaching me to fight and wield axes and swords. I was taught glima, a sort of martial art most Vikings learn. I soaked it up like a sponge, learning everything I could and training far longer than the other boys in the village.

At almost my 15th year I was taken on a raid across the fjord to another village of warriors. I was blooded properly over the next few days and got a taste for bloodshed. It was during this raid I earned myself the name Ulf the Wild. It came about while in the midst of battle with 3 grown warriors. I don't remember much other than finally releasing some of the pent up anger at my situation. When all was said and done my axe was bloody as was the rest of my person. And the three unlucky warriors lay around me in pieces. We raided all night and I'm a bit ashamed to say that I loved it. I loved the way it felt when my axe sank into flesh and bone. I loved the look of desperation in my enemy's eyes when I robbed them of life. The only thing I didn't revel in was when my "shield brothers" decided to force themselves on the women folk. I even cut a few throats of my supposed comrades when I came across an unsavory scene like that. Just not something I'll tolerate, coming from a modern society were such a thing was frowned upon and punished by serious jail time.

A few days later back in our own village after everyone had finished celebrating a successful raid, while everyone was past out from drinking too much mead I finally took my revenge. Every warrior in the village received my dagger sliding across their throats. And then I disappeared into the night making my way to Denmark, to Kattegat.

I spoke my first words in 11 years to Earl Haroldson, ruler of Kattegat. When I arrived at the gates I was greeted by the guards axes drawn. Looking back I can't really blame them seeing as I was still covered in the blood from my first raid mixed with blood of the warriors that held me as a thrall. The guards eventually gave up trying to get me to speak and brought me before the Earl so he could pass his judgement. When the Earl asked me what I had to say I told him an altered version of what had happened to me. I told him that my clan had just returned home from a successful raid when in the night after celebrations died down we were attacked and I fought them off and escaped with my own life. I walked for a month and a half to get here surviving on roots and any small game I could find. If the Earl ever sent men to check he would see a well crafted scene to somewhat support my story and a bunch of orphan children that wouldn't have known what actually happened.

The Earl let me stay in Kattegat as one of his warriors as long as I raided with them in the spring.

For the next 4 years I raided with the Earl's men and trained my body. I grew my hair long, and had one of the locals tattoo my chest and my arms and back. When I was nearing 18 years old I met a man named Ragnar Lothbrok. Yes the one from the TV show but more intimidating. He asked me to join him raiding an new land. I knew it would be Britain. So from this I thought for sure that I had reincarnated into the show Vikings. I decided to join Ragnar since I knew his first raid in Britain was very profitable.

(AN: none of this is canon or historically correct it's all right out of my ass. MC looks like the cover photo.)

When Ragnar came to get me in the middle of the night because we had to leave on the down low so the Earl wouldn't find out since he didn't approve this raid, I was packed and ready with my axe, my dagger, and my shield. We spent the next few weeks on one of Floki's custom long ships.

When we arrived I was sent out to scout the surroundings while Ragnar's group went to raid a near by monastery. I spent a few days roaming the country side raiding and pillaging a few single homes I came across along the way.

One night, my whole perspective changed. I heard the sounds of a beast fighting with someone or a group of someones, a short distance from my little camp. Breaking tree branches, growling, whimpering, and curses in a strange dialect of English. Like a dumbass white kid from a horror movie I got the bright idea to go see what was going on. When I arrived I was shocked and horrified at what I was bearing witness to.

Humans that moved at unnatural speeds and, the more shocking sight, 7 foot tall bipedal wolf creatures. Monsters from fiction in my past life. I immediately knew what I was looking at, but unfortunately I was not going to be given the opportunity to retreat. There was a deep throaty growl right behind me. I remember the vibration from it in my chest and the warm retched smelling air hit the back of my neck. Without any hesitation I ran forward right into the other warring party trying to make my escape by shocking the shit out of them with my girlish yell and my surprise entrance. It didn't work though...

I remember the large jaws clamping down on my shoulder and a few smaller but equally sharp mouths clamp down of both of my wrists and another large mouth clamp down on my thigh. All I felt was immense amounts of pain and the slow encroaching darkness coming to claim my life once again.