Medieval Fantasy (Greyhawk Setting) | D&D 5E

Spoiler: The Reaver
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I normally enjoy playing good and heroic characters that have a strong sense of morality and duty. So for our current Greyhawk game, I decided to go in a different direction.

When tragedy struck the man known as Exal, and he lost his family and found himself as a slave in the fighting pits of Highport, his prayers went unanswered. But when he screamed vows of vengeance, one god did reply; Erythnul.

Exal fought his way through the ranks of the fighting pits, and learned blood magic through his devotion to Erythnul. Eventually, he gained power enough to escape his bonds and flee from the Pomarj.

Now, the champion of Erythnul known only as The Reaver is a vigilante and mercenary for hire in the Sheldomar Valley. The people know that if they whisper the man's name in their darkest hour, Erythnul will send him to spill blood.

Enough have cried out in rage and fury for the blood of the giants that have rampaged through the Valley, taking countless lives with them. The Reaver was not invited to meet with the Duke, but has infiltrated the giant strongholds to eviscerate the titans on behalf of those that have called out to Erythnul for bloody revenge.

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I enjoy playing this character because he jives real well with the whole murder-hobo vibe, killing monsters and looting their stuff. In addition, he's somewhat of a performer, rhyming in combat as prayers to Erythnul and reveling in the fear and mayhem he causes among his targets. He is a part of the order of Erythnul that leans Chaotic Neutral, and only kills bad people/monsters. He appeases Erythnul to gain more power and eventually get his revenge against those that betrayed him, killed his family, and left him for dead.

Spoiler: Some of his poetry
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Introduction to the party

My name shall never be known,
My face shall never be shown,

But if you're most eager,
You can call me The Reaver,

And now the pleasantries are done.

Explaining his perspective on serving the God of Slaughter

Erythnul's a bit of a doozy,
You'll find a little more choosey,

If you're of no worth,
I'll give a wide berth,

But if worthy I'll kill you most cruelly.

Recited during a grand melee in the Great Hall of the Front Giant Glacier, surrounded by many frost giants and the Jarl

Here where the sun hangs low,
And all is covered in snow,

The frost giants raid and reave,
And make the small folk bleed,

But a force from the hill giant steading,
Will deliver the jarl's armaggeddon,

We creep through the ice and snow,
Felling giants with each mighty blow,

They die trying to put up a fight,
When they know they should run at first sight,

Of the Reaver and Talesin the Silent,
And Hobby and Rezok, most violent,

We'll leave every giant dead,
And paint this whole mountain red,

You dream of a winter most fimbul,
But will gain far greater from Erythnul,

A release from this tiresome odium,
In the windswept depths of Pandemonium,

Here where the sun hangs low


Spoiler: Commission
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