Brandishing a pair of magical cleavers (around which their enormous twin tongues wrap, to further relish the flavour of the blood), they swing like demonic butchers, hungrily and recklessly. Recipents of a Rot Reaver's attack beware: the wound will magically fester, and should its victim die the body will be brought back into unlife under the Rot Reaver's control, to either serve or feed it!
I love how wonderfully horrible the Rot Reaver is. I'm a firm believer that there's a certain point at which excessive violence and gore reaches a sort of critical mass and crosses over from "juvenile obsession" into an outright art form. That point, as we all know, is Peter Jackson's Braindead.