Farts. Farts in the deep, farts spoken of only in legend.
The Barbarians do not share their secrets with outsiders during their guild meetings, and though I pretended to be one of them, all along 'twas my secret mission to expose the charade of their guild, to bring to light the dark and malevolent thoughts which are whispered only among those they consider kin.
DPS they spoke of, and magic training, and only after the ceremonial blood-letting did they expose their most carnal shame: discussing fashion accessories, and here Squanto, lord of the fashion, spoke at length of his surreptitious findings, of tutus and eyeliner, all the while farting, farts so potent and powerful only Rhadyn could withstand them unscathed.
Perhaps it was my furtive, sidelong glances at the door that betrayed me, or my dislike of the malodorous stench of Squanto. Only this note remains of my attempts to scrawl their secrets and bring them to the mages, in hopes of finding some weakness of Barbarian OPness, some secret way to withstand their throwing blades.
<Hear the note is torn, and heavily sheared in Kaldar blood>
Pink... fear... the pink...
-Malkien
