Rexor

Rexor was born of hate and betrayed by life. I was born the bastard son of Narloch the Barbarian. Narloch murdered the dwarves of the village, raped several women and burned the village down to the ground. Somehow, my mother survived his savagery and escaped to the Dwarven City. Weak from her ordeal, my mother died giving birth to me. It took many years of searching to piece together the story.

Belonging to no one, I was raised by several warring clans who traded me back and forth. After a short time, I was called "Fodder" because they gave me the worst of duties to attend to. When I thought I was strong enough, I left and started searching for answers. Sadly I wasn't completely ready... One day adventuring, I had a training mishap. Even though I was missing an arm and a leg, I thought it was more important that I train additional skills prior to getting healed. It was the first time I met Random. He was talking with the trainer, and when he saw my predicament, he laughed at me. Disregarding him, I left... until he called me back. He gave me a drink to quell the pain, and then regenerated my appendages. Everyone assumes that I was drinking alcohol from the moment I left the womb, but it was Random who started the circle.

Sometime after that, I was bathed in the hellfire of the great god Dreddnahr. It is there that my power really came to be seen by the world. I fought alongside the truly greatest warriors of the time - Arbalon, Cyndre, Sarkazein and others that my aged mind fails to remember. Under the tutelage of these experts and others from the Midnight Council, I learned how to siege cities, conquer overwhelming odds and become a terror to the world. Along the way, I found several other bastard children of Narloch. Together, we started clan Narloch. I would always explain the sacred oath of the clan "Anyone who has beaten you in battle or can bring you back to life should be respected for just that. Make acquaintances with them, but do not rely on them. Everything leads to battle. We practice for it constantly. If someone needs your help, offer it, but remember who you honor most... yourself and your clan." However, Ashnar being as diabolic and plain crazy as he was, helped to make clan Narloch hunted by everyone, regardless of their good or evil nature. During this period, I would succumb to the wrath of several gods, with Nightfall being the most menacing. I spent what felt like an eternity truly suffering in heaven for all of the crimes that I committed to the world.

After returning to the mortal plane, I discovered that I had been gone for somewhere between sixty to seventy years and that my clan had been wiped from the realms. I renounced everything that I was, and wandered the realms aimlessly seeking to find my purpose in life. After drinking myself senseless for a couple of years, I came to the conclusion that I had to prove myself to my father and get him to acknowledge me as his son. I confronted him, and the only way I could get the respect of my father was to best him in combat and kill him. After a long and grueling battle, I finally beat him. However, he was brought back to life almost immediately, and then mocked me exclaiming that I was weak. I finally saw where my stubbornness came from. I was informed that a higher power had watched me overcome Narloch and was interested in my skills. However, I would not turn my services over so easily.

Zinstr, the Warlord of Conquest brought me to FireStorm's, where Ariakas the Conqueror and I had a few drinks to quell the pain before he plunged his sword into me, initiating me as a member of conquest. As my corpse slowly slid off of the sword, I had to wonder what I had gotten myself into. I worked continually at training myself, and helping the other people as long as it continued my search for Power and Conquest. At my age, I like to take naps more than I like to kill, but people still see fit to want to challenge my power. As the final challenge to show my Power to Lord Ariakas, I overcame all the odds to become the greatest barbarian in existence. And now that my legacy is complete, the only thing people will remember me for is giving wedgies and killing lots of horses (and sometimes their owners). Horses do taste good, especially the roasted war horse variety.