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 wasnt 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
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
Zinstr, the Warlord of Conquest brought me to FireStorms, 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.