So this is my tale, such as it is. Not much to tell as of yet, but here it is. Berzrkers run rampant in the Deathrage clan, that is my family name by the way. Infact it is rumored that it was the wayward anger of a Deathrage that caused the shattering. I, like the other barbarians and dwarves, make my home in the Greystone yard. I procured myself an appartment there after I arrived in Qeynos from the refugee camp, I think many of you remember the refugee camp,ha ha ha. I was pleased to find the art of brewing Halasian ale was not lost in transit to this place, though I'm told by the elders that it is best tasted with a cold Everfrost wind on your neck. Perhaps I'll be there when we retake our home to drink a pint the way it was meant to be tasted. This place has a comfort I did not expect, warm firelight, laughter, and a few beutiful Halasian ladys wandering about, and although I've never seen much of other peoples of Norath, I'v met some very intersting, "cousins". One of which is named Gahn. He is a little fellow, calls himself "Ayr'Dahl", I think it means something in elvish as he said i probably shouldn't use the word around other half elves. When I first met him he was a scout. He has since become a predator and fancies himself a ranger. Why he is so proud of that i'll never know, it's not like he's a berzerker or anything. He runs about with a she cat........... I mean Kerra named Furtura. I fine lass, a healer, who i don't mind tellin' ya has saved our hides on more than one acount. These two, although not of my kind, are the only family know here in Qeynos. We have spilled the blood of many foes, and some of our own, together more times than I can count, but on a night I am not so weary, I shall attempt to recount for your amusement. I am weary tonight, so I shall bid you goodnight and leave you with this, an old family prayer: Despite the crux of evil's plans, in the ends a Deathrage stands. From Battle's blood to tavern's glee, I'll side with you, you side with me. Poetic words for me come hard, hence i'm a Zerker, not a bard. The moral of this poem here, I'll bring the axe, you bring the beer. Kayos of Ayonae Ro, Everfrost
