Special Guest Blogger: Sigurd The Mighty

We all hope that when our time comes, we go out gentle into that good night. Or perhaps we go out into that good night on a flaming long-ship or in the midst of a heroic battle, either way is good but that's assuming we have any control over our own deaths but we need to remember that karma can be a raging bitch with a flair for the ironic.
Us Scandinavians have not always been the gentle and accommodating nations you know and love today and after one huge battle in Norway which saw loads of Vikings told to leave, the exiled men found a new home in the Orkney and Shetland islands off the coast of Scotland and after a couple of raids, the King of Norway decided to put a stop to that shit so sent amongst others my brother and him a few buddies to crack some heads and they did such a good job that the King gave him the islands who in turn gave them to me as it was the Shetland Islands, what the hell was he going to do with them?
I landed and immediately decided i needed more room so began invading bits of the Scottish mainland which was no mean feat, a few hundred years earlier the mighty Roman Legion had to build a wall to keep out the horde of ginger maniacs and here was i cutting a swathe through them which is how i got my nickname of 'The Mighty'.
The only fly in my Highland ointment was a local native warlord called Máel Brigte the Buck-Toothed, nicknames were pretty much say what you saw back then but seriously, that man had a set of front teeth that whenever he sneezed he risked biting a hole in his chest but he was a mean SOB and after a few battles which ended with neither side winning, i challenged him to a fair, winner takes all fight with 40 of his best men against 40 of mine.  
The big toothed berk accepted and his 40 men were roundly defeated by the 80 i showed up with, yep i was a bit of a stinker like that so in triumph i cut off his head to keep as a trophy and strapping the decapitated noggin to my saddle and rode home to nail it above the fireplace.
Unfortunately, i forgot about Máel Brigte's massive buck-teeth and they scratched my leg as we rode, my leg became inflamed and infected, and as a result i died shortly after from a combination of blood poisoning and the worst case of embarrassment, killed by my mortal enemy from beyond the grave with a mouth full of bacteria. Yep, that sucked.