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I sing of the berserkers, beloved of the skalds and songsmiths, the great warriors of Thor’s domain, smashers of Jotunheim, doers of deeds, wearers of weaselskins! Fearless in fighting, ruthless in raids, fleet of foot and fat of form, the brave berserk, the war-hardened servants of the war-god, the great Battle Hamsters of the North!


(Okay, it’s doggerel. There’s a reason you don’t hear me complaining about all these jobs as a Viking bard falling in my lap.)

Originally published at Tea with the Squash God. You can comment here or there.