Human, Male, Ranger/Fighter of Daggerford


Reaver is 6’3" and 205 pounds. He is young at 22, athletic, but with a handsome yet rugged appearance. He has a thin white looking scar across the bridge of his nose, that reaches across and down to the lower left jaw. This is a wound from a Drow warrior he fought while captured as a slave during a surface raid. This info will be described in more detail in the Biography section. Reaver has steel grey eyes, long brown hair that is pulled into a pony tail, and tied with leather that is threaded through a polished bone. The bone is from a dead Drow that Reaver killed during his escape. Reaver wears a steel chain shirt that is covered in woodland garb. He has tall leather boots, leather breaches, and a weathered travel cloak. He often wears the cowl of his cloak over his head making him mysterious at first glance. Reaver has a Drow masterwork shortsword strapped to his right hip, and another nice quality shortsword on his left hip. He has a shortbow always in his grip as he travels, and a dagger is tucked into his right boot.

Reaver was born in Daggerford during the month of Flamerule in 1352 DR, “Year of the Dragon”. Reaver was raised by two loving parents who ended up dieing from the Red Death Plague in 1358 DR, “Year of the Shadow”. At the age of 6 Reaver was taken in by Bando the Lame, High Priest of Tymora, where he was brought up and mentored until the age of sixteen where he caught the eye of the Chief Scout Merris Sandovar. Merris took Reaver under his wing and mentored him in the ways of a Ranger, teaching him woodlore, and survival skills. At the age of seventeen, Reaver began going on scouting trips and patrols with garrison soldiers. It was one of these fateful operations that would change Reavers life forever. Reaver was scouting ahead of his contingent seeking a good place to sleep for the evening. He gently guided his horse off the trail a few yards when he spotted a dark movement to the front. Reaver dismounted and tied his horse off to a shrub to quickly investigate. As he stalked in the direction of the movement he glimpsed a second flash of movement above and to his right. All of a sudden Reaver was taken with paralysis and stumbled forward then crashed to the ground. The last thing he saw, was a small black fletched bolt sticking out of his thigh, and dark skinned humanoids with white hair begin to move in. Darkness took him, and hours later awoke in pitch black bound and gagged. All he heard was the light footfalls of numerous captors around him as he laid upon a flat disk like object. Over the next three years Reaver lived his sunless days somewhere in the Underdark as a slave for Dark Elves. Reaver was often used as sport in gladiator fights against creatures and lesser humanoids such as goblins and kobolds. Reaver lived dark day to dark day by praying to Tymora for guidance. It was one of these lightless days that Tymora’s good fortune shined upon Reaver. The Drow city he lived in was attacked by what looked like more drow, but they were allied with demons and Duergar from the looks of it. In all the chaos Reaver was able to get free and escape the city, or so he thought. As Reaver began his travels through the dark tunnels groping thru the blackness, it dawned on him he required a weapon and some means of light. He would not be able to go any further like this, so he backtracked seeking a corpse he could rob of what he required. As he prowled about the outskirts of the pitched battle he was confronted by a lone Drow warrior who had appeared to be wounded. The Drow snarled and charged forward with weapons flashing, the skill and ferocity of this enemy was incredible. Reaver stood stunned, but at the last second reacted with lighting speed punching forward with a straight fist. Reaver took a good slash across the nose and face in the opening strike, but then as he thought that was the end he realized his fist had smashed the dark elf’s nose into his skull. With all haste Reaver grabbed up the dead Drows weapons and what other little supplies were in his pouches and began to walk away. As Reaver turned a glimmer caught his eye and he looked back at the corpse. Upon the Drows finger was a gold ring with a large purple stone. Reaver went to pry the ring off quickly, but it would not budge. Reaver did the next best thing and cut the finger off then stowed it in his newly acquired pouch. One month later, and help from some friendly Deep Gnomes Reaver found himself on the path to the surface. It was another week’s journey across sun lit lands that were familiar to him, and lead to his return home. The first thing Reaver did was look to donate the ring to Bando and thank Tymora for brining him the luck he needed in such a dark place. Reaver ended up keeping the bone from the ring finger and made a hair piece out of it, using it to tie his hair back. The last couple years Reaver worked odd and end jobs for the Garrison, The Bronzewood Lodge, and others within or around Daggerford. The one thing that remained at the back of Reavers mind was the hate he had gained for dark elves. If he were to ever see one again he would seek to kill it. With this new found hatred he decided to take up arms and train with Merris and others skilled in the martial arts of sword fighting. He knew that if he was to confront a dark elf he would have to be prepared to fight one and match there skill at arms. Merris was impressed with my weapon, and I finally told him the tale of my slavery in the Underdark, I also told him about the weapon being of drow make. He agreed that it was of masterwork quality, and that I should take good care of it. It is Mirtul, 1374 DR, and I find myself sitting in the Happy Cow drinking an ale pondering my future…..Something in life has to be bigger and better then the life I live now. I feel a sense of adventure comeing soon I hope….


Forgotten Realms: Age of Worms Ebonblade