Berserker

He was a vision in white leather, a white fur cloak pinned at his shoulders. His smile was bright like the edge of a bone knife, and he carried the most massive sword Dakshana had ever seen. And it was engraved with runes, runes she could not read but that must have offered the strongest magic.

Then he whirled into the battle, swung his sword, took a man’s head, another’s arm, and was utterly unfazed by the splatter of blood and flesh marring his pristine whiteness.

His men cheered and gave a rousing cry, a word Dakshana didn’t know:

“Berserker!”