The Sorceror's Sunken Dungeon
Tenzin of the Wolfhammer Tribe
Oh, it was a party to tell the grandchildren about around the campfire. A feast for Oben Sez-ami, god of doors, rifts and portals! The swirl of dancing barbarian women! The pounding drums of barbarian music! The painful clench of barbarian tequila!
I was throwing up when it hit me: I was no longer with my tribe! The divine Oben had transported me away from my ancestral homelands during my ritual drunkenness. Truly, a sign of his blessing! Or anger! My head hurt.
Then there were drow! Blasted drow! These guys helped me kill them. I decided to make them associate members of the Wolfhammer tribe. Except the knifey guy. I am getting over my prejudices, but I fear the rest of the barbarians aren’t ready to accept a metrosexual. There’s been friction in the past.
Anyway! One of the guys who fought with me is looking for his dad and one of the girls showed me her boobs, so I figure I owe them. And maybe I will kill some more drow!
For the glory of the Wolfhammer tribe, bitches. This is Tenzin; peace-ing out.