3 Berserker

The berserker walks a lonely path.

In Battle he sees the aftermath.

A mercenary adorned in a wild pelt,

Paid handsomely for the damage he's dealt.

He hails from the Northern wolf cult.

Channeling beasts is the result.

He practices the dark runic magic.

His reason, though, is truly tragic.

From his tribe, he was outcasted.

And now, his foes he has outlasted.

He lurks in the forests beyond the tribe.

Or at least says the elder scribe.

Many have died at his mighty hand.

As he follows his warlord's command.

Upon the earth, warrior blood is shed.

Before his feet, armies are left dead.

He channels the spirit of the beast.

Wolf or bear, his rage shall not cease.

He rushes into battle without a thought,

Relying only on instinct, for Victory is sought.

One after another, enemies are slain.

The beast never stops, he's numb to pain.

He makes no concern for tribe or clan,

For this warrior is both of beast and man.

Loyalty and comfort, he doesn't need.

It is hard to control one without a creed.

In death, Valhalla is where he'll go.

For war is all he'll ever know.