Standing head and shoulders above most men, Ranulf Ragnarsson might be suspected of having more than a drop of the old giantsblood in his veins; the suspicion would, in fact, be well-founded.  Size aside, Ranulf has typical Norsk features - if he grew out his dark hair and braided it, and spent a week without shaving, one could easily picture him going a-viking with his friends and family, or biting the rim of his shield in Northman-style battle frenzy.

But Ranulf has left that life behind, and many a mile since.  In more recent years he might be found in almost any corner of the realms, wherever the tides of politics and war would send the crashing tread of the legions of Mediolanum.  His demeanor is rough yet businesslike, with a soldier's discipline and pragmatism.  His dark gray eyes glitter watchfully, but the creases next to them suggest that - despite initial appearances perhaps - laughter is no stranger to his visage.