Reven
Appearance and Equipment
* Brown hair styled in an undercut, light green eyes, fair skin, 6'1", build of lean muscle, a balance of agility and strength.
* Usually clad in medium armor: brigandine, gambeson, plate spaulders and gauntlets and greaves. Wears a high-collared beige surcoat over top. Wears a faded blue cloak.
* Usually armed with a broadsword and round shield; dagger sidearm; utility tools as available.
Skills and Abilities
Sword and Shield: Reven's preferred kit as a frontline fighter. Often he uses his shield more as a tool of aggression over defense, slamming and pushing foes before thrusts and chops of his sword follow.
Leadership Potential: Established himself within his former band of raiders as a dependable right-hand man, a cool head under pressure, and a sound tactical advisor. Though he has not truly been a leader in full right, his experience being more akin to a "lieutenant" over a "captain", shows strong signs of such capacity.
Streetwise: The life of an outlaw leads often to ingratiating oneself with various underground/criminal elements. Aside from contacts, Reven has developed a general sense of intent and danger, when a situation might turn violent, and the approach of lawmen/intervening forces.
Former Raider/Rough Living: Much of Reven's life has been spent outside of "safe" towns, traveling, hiding out, roughing it. Used to harsh conditions, reading the land for tracking and evading. A good outdoorsman.
Personality and Characteristics
Major
* Sharp wits, competence, and unflappable demeanor, all traits demanded by raiders and rough men of one another, are still tenets by which Reven accords himself today.
* Owing to the unforgiving and brutal life of an outlaw, inured to the uglier side of the world. Can seem, or even be, distant or dispassionate.
* Prone to anger, accustomed to using intimidation to get his way; guidance from cooler minds, especially in more social and polite settings, is often appreciated to keep these old habits in check.
* Making a genuine attempt to amend his ways, despite failings in that pursuit.
* Has a cutting sense of humor which might seem abrasive or impolite to some, even though he means it in the way of camaraderie.
* Speaks in a rough vernacular, and quite direct.
Minor
+ Curious about the religion of Jura, and its god Regel. Intrigued by those who are deeply religious, though he himself lacks much understanding and faith.
+ Has a slight gambling problem. Easy to fall back into it.
+ Likes to goof off during lulls and periods of downtime: funny dances, jokes, horseplay/grab ass, pranks, general tomfoolery.
+ Fearful of "fucking up", as raider life did not kindly excuse mistakes or incompetence.
+ Tends to still live by his old raider rules: don't get comfortable, don't shit where you sleep, don't shout (keep a low profile).
Biography and Lore
The Frost Witch
"You will harbor a heart of cold steel."
These were the first words spoken over Reven, settling upon him in the moment following his birth. Son to the Frost Witch who had taken up acquaintance with a Company of raiders, he would never know his father, whether he be one of the raiders or some other man encountered and fancied by the Witch, for she was an unabashed harlot.
But the Witch was also a flighty soul. And when the plundering life of a raider bored her, and she lost her fickle interest in motherhood, she left. Reven now, at five years of age, was left to the rough men of the Company, and they for their amusement of his prospects would raise him up as one of their own. The life of an outlaw was to be Reven's schooling, his life foreign to all things civilized.
The Company
Many raiders and bands of raiders plagued and do plague Arethil, and languages the world over lack not a word for them. But many perish or are imprisoned, whether by the law of the land or free adventurers or other hazards beside. But the Company which the child Reven called kin had for themselves three enduring rules that aided in their success: don't get comfortable, don't shit where you sleep, and don't shout (their shorthand way of saying "keep a low profile").
The men of the Company were no caring souls, and Reven received nothing he did not earn. Often they used the child Reven as bait to lure travelers and lesser caravans into traps, and Reven played into his part well. In cities and towns he made for an excellent scout against wary authorities, and deceived marks like merchants, shopkeeps, and whores into the Company's criminal designs. At the age of seven he took his first life, cutting off the head of a merchant, who had double-crossed the Company, after a dozen swings of a broadsword—and the raiders cheered for the blooded boy.
Left to His Fate
The Company endured, men coming and going into their fold, and the child Reven matured into a man. He knew nothing but the plunder of spoils and the indulgence of vice. He had become preeminent among his brethren, a by then old hand, reliable and fierce and cutthroat for the sake of the Company, second only to the Captains he'd seen rise and fall. A raider's raider.
But even this would not spare him. All knew the life was harsh, and that none could plead special exception. A hard understanding.
In the land of Campania the Company was caught in battle. Several men lay dead. Others wounded, Reven among them. But while the other wounded raiders could ride, Reven could not. The law of Gild would surely come crashing down upon the Company, for one such lawmen had escaped the battle to warn his fellows—they could not stay.
So the Company departed, leaving him. What scarce kin Reven could call his own, for family was a word ill-suited. Gone. His whole life rode away on horseback, leaving him as a bygone detail, like his mother the Frost Witch.
His sword lay in his lap. To kill himself if he wished. Their one act of kindness, to toss it to him.
The Priest of Regel
But the Regulators of Gild did not find Reven first. Instead a lone robed figure came up that road and found the site of the battle. There without remarkable effort he found Reven half-concealed nearby, in pain and bleeding from his wounds. And the man did not hesitate to provide timely aid with what implements he carried in his satchel.
Reven asked who he was, and the man replied a Priest of Regel. Reven knew nothing of such lore, though the notion of gods and devilish things provoked many a campfire conversation. Fear of the lawmen remained, but Reven could do little for it; and so he spoke at length with the Priest. And the Priest said something to him which echoed with an imperishable resonance:
"Suffering produces perseverance; perseverance, character; and character, hope."
The Priest put forth the idea that his own arrival first, rather than that of Gild's Regulators, might not be mere accident. That second chances abounded even through the darkest of despairs. That even Reven's own evils could be turned to good. The whole of Reven's life, his suffering and the character it forged, could serve new purpose, if he so willed.
And from that day forth a flame, though fledgling, burned thus in Reven's heart. The ember of a new man, to perhaps melt the ice so prophesied by his mother.
References
Portent of Predation