Baldur was never about the fists or the noise. his religion was money. from boosting cars, to pushing weight, every move he made was dedicated to one thing. making more money.

that all changed the night he stole a mint night rod from some fool. that bike bent his life onto a road he never planned to ride.

one night outside a bar, checking on his ride, he caught another biker ATTEMPTING TO steal it. words were exchanged AND guns came out, but instead of blood, there was an understanding between the men. a MUTUAL RECOGNITION OF ambition. At that moment, ghost introduced himself to baldur, lots of beer followed, and a connection was made

with time passing, baldur was speeding through as a prospect. an opportunity presented itself, as the club offered a patch to baldur. but only if he would steal A RIVAL mc’S vp’s bike. In a sign of dedication, honour and loyalty, baldur NICKED that BIKE without breaking a sweat.

After many years as a fully fledged member of the club, baldur opened up a chop shop right around the corner from the clubhouse. with his knowledge of the alamo, his ambition and strife to make more cash, Baldur was nominated to become club’s seafarer.

he runs a shop close by to the clubhouse — clean on paper, filthy underneath. and baldur? he ain’t losing sleep over it.