<div class="floatleft">(http://i1105.photobucket.com/albums/h357/daniellex28/barbarian_by_la__boheme-d6xc4fq22223333444_zpsrsqomeyv.jpg)</div><strong>Name</strong>:<em>Gabriel Bersk  </em><br/><strong>Hit Points</strong>:<em>55/55</em><br/><hr/><br/>He entered the establishment with mixed feelings and few expectations. If anything, there was a hint of anxiety filling the uncouth barbarian; a laughable secret that he would take into his grave. For one who had thrown himself at any beast, monster or demon that would fight him, the mere idea that he would be uncomfortable with something as trivial as meeting a handful of people was ludicrous to say the least, and in the moment before he crossed the threshold to where his supposed companions, for lack of a better description, would be waiting, he scraped his throat and rolled his shoulders before properly entering.<br/><br/>Gabriel had a way of filling up a room, and only in part because of physical appearance. Broad-shouldered and with piercing eyes that lit up in the golden residue of his Aasimar heritage, he wasn't easily overlooked when he wasn't hiding in the corner of a tavern. His chin was slightly dipped to his chest as he cast his gaze left and right, taking in the sight of the people already there. He counted one man, two women. No, three, but Gabriel had almost missed the servant altogether, and he dismissed her presence as unimportant for now. He wasn't sure what to make of the fact that the group, so far, contained as many men as women; in all of  his fighting life he had spent very little time with capable women. He had an inclination to regard them as frail, or perhaps that was the inherent protective nature that his upbringing had taught him. Either way, it took some getting used to the fact that he would be working together with such an unlikely mix of people.<br/><br/>Then again, to Gabriel, working together with<em>anyone</em>would be a change from the way he'd lived the past year-and-a-half.<br/><br/>Everyone present appeared talkative enough, and since no one addressed him directly, Gabriel didn't feel like he had to chip in just yet. He found a seat near the doorway; a sturdy looking chair on which he sat down, legs apart, his arms resting casually on his upper thighs. He had an uninhibited way of looking at the people who surrounded him, although his gaze went somewhat obscured by the unkemptness of his long, dark hair. At least he had donned a full attire again, which made him look ever so slightly less like the wildling he felt he had become. Rushiya's name sparked some familiarity, and although Gabriel cared little for the pleasantries that filled her monologue, he could appreciate the confidence with which she spoke of herself. False modesty was a waste of anyone's time, he found, and confidence won you half the battle in most situations.<br/><br/>When Lucan spoke, Gabriel was not too keen on the hint of arrogance, the outright bragging that made him seem full of words more than actual deeds. Gabriel wanted to like this man, if only because throughout his time in Everwinter, he had relied on his brethren myriad times. Brotherhood was important to the barbarian, but he remained skeptical as to whether or not Lucan could hold a candle to his fallen kin. If anything, it seemed that the woman named Loap - he liked that name; it felt strong, confident - was the only one with a familiar sort of mindset to Gabriel. It almost made him want to join in the conversation - almost.