For Gold and Steel

There I was, looking down at the prey I had just felled with a well-placed arrow. Nearby in the brush I could hear my two hunting Sleens prowling restlessly, awaiting my command for them to feed. After harvesting what is needed from the felled Tarsk, and mounting my Kaiila, I released the Sleens to feed. As I, REAVER, sat astride my trusty Kaiila, on this desolate hilltop overlooking these familiar plains, my thoughts slowly drifted to my past…

My adventures really began the day I accompanied my father and his men on the hunt. I was real young then, and this was the first time I was allowed to ride with them. The hunt started as any other, with no hints as of what to come. However, when we returned, we discovered that the camp had been attacked and destroyed. There was no one left but the dead and the dying, the survivors all having been taken as slaves. My father felt responsible for this since he wasn’t there, and he and his men all renounced their names in shame. Together we all then left the plains and began earning our keep as mercenaries.

After taking the name “REAVER”, and driven by the wish to be far removed from the lands of his origins and undesired memories, my Father at first took his band to the Frozen North, to Torvaldsland. Here we made a name for ourselves as several people, including wealthy merchants and Jarls, employed us. After several successful years there, the group started to wander southward and grow smaller as warriors either died or left to pursue their own destinies. After my father was killed fighting in a particularly nasty battle, which left several of us gravely wounded or dead, the group finally broke up. Soon after my recovery I took on my father's name, the name of REAVER; until then I had been known as REAVERSON.

After years of wandering I returned to the plains and joined a Kassar Camp, under Ubar BLADE. A few years later the camp broke up and most of my friends left. I wandered for a while before leaving the plains once more….

…. As the low growls of my Sleens jolt me back from the past, I look up to see a group of riders approaching in the distance. Recognizing them as not being members of the proud Tuchuk, or even plainsmen for that matter, I attach an arrow to the collar of one of the Sleens and send them back to warn the camp. My heart leaps with anticipation as I spur on my steed to investigate. If I am to go to The City Of Dust today, let my blood flow here, defending my proud Home, my last breath the sweet warm scent of my beloved plains, to which I have returned…