The Soul Reaver

We are remnants of things forgotten,

we are the tears that never flow.

To dark and death we chase the rotten,

evil things that never glow.

We hunt by night and hide by day,

the things that others treasure.

On broken dreams our heads we lay,

the vilest hearts we treasure.

Our cups we toast to evil deeds, greed, betrayal, anger and malice.

To drink the darkness, to quench our needs,

we raise our body's chalice.

Our needs are the bane of what we are,

but still we carry out our chore.

So we search the world both near and far,

until the wicked fill our core

The good, the noble, even the brave,

shall never fear our wrath.

It isn't love or honor that we crave,

before us lies a diffrent path.

It is the evil which we want,

the dark souls that we cherish.

Alone we stand and face the brunt,

we cleanse the earth until we perish.

Soul Reavers, or Reavers for short, have long been a plague upon the Myre world. Their once noble goal and their purpose for existence has been warped and crippled by their very nature. Able to read the feelings of many beings and surviving by stealing them, they have one fatal flaw. Their need for a soul, one soul a year for one additional year of life. The souls they consume give them great power, but they linger within. Confusing memories that are not their own haunt them, as do random feelings. Once they reach a certain age and therefor a certain amount of souls, most of them turn mad.

Because of this Reavers keep to themselves mostly, no one knows how many of them are alive at present. They scavenge at the fringes of society, stealing from the weak and lonely. The madness that consumes most of them makes them unpredictable and dangerous.

They heal from most fatal wounds if they have reached their immortality, but can die from withdrawal. Appearance similar to humans.

It has been said that Reavers were made to cleanse the earth of evil. They were born from the ashes, blood and bones of the holy crusade wars. Formed by the evil which man had done unto man and breathed to life by the angel Samael. The venom of god. Legend says that it was gods punishment for the Myres meddling with his humans free will. But that is an old story and all that is known for certain is that they were just, suddenly, there.

Extremely dangerous.

Alloy.

Of low caste.