Clan Ratsgut, of the second epoch.
Begotten of the ether as the last fires died and the world was born again.

In tourney seven of this era there was a great rat, a talent such as the clan had never known, and this was his finest work, summing up the turmoil that is the battle sphere, and the drama played within Tartarus.

Have any of ya ever paid attention to da tide?

Da Chief's been watchin' da slow comin' and goin';
froth on da leadin' edge;
nothin' but whispers on da way out.

In these wars 'cross da sphere, our blood ain't nothin' but da tide;
alla us firin' and ragin', full-forward
'til our boys start givin' ghosts and da line slides
right back again, nothin' but stained sand and some
war stories ta mark our comin' and goin'.

En'my, yer puttin' up one helluva fight,
alla us tradin' froth and whispers,
givin' and takin' as only old things can.
Never a smile.
Never a shout.
Just a hand fulla battle scars and great big beaches,
all worn and grinded by da tide.

Best in da tourneys ta come,
Chief Ratgut