Donovon’s life has become a cautionary tale to former Berserker tribesfolk as the once mighty competitor to even Hector has since become a pariah, cursed with a skin defilement for his alchemic tinkering. Unwilling to accept Hector’s supremacy in combat, it was Donovon’s obsession with victory at all costs that ultimately brought him into exile after great loss of life.

Donovon had taken to experimenting with the distillation and refinement of herbal and animal poisons of different kinds on edged weapons in his quest for supremacy in a clandestine cave system some distance away. He had concealed the entrance well, but it was nonetheless discovered by local youths on a hunting expedition. The party immediately took to exploring the various nooks and crannies of the large underground system, taking little note of the foulness of the air. Donovon had always been careful to limit his exposure to his “workshop” for good reason. The youths had not wandered for long before the first young man fell down unconscious. He was soon joined by his fellows, none of which could be revived by the tribe’s shaman magics.

In some sense Donovon was lucky to have escaped the sentence of death. Exile was the best, and only, option. Set adrift, Donovon quickly headed in search of like-minded individuals with whom he could associate, and eventually stumbled upon a man even more obsessed and skilled in the arts of poison than himself: Gangelo of Soulplunder. Donovon had found his new tribe.