Image courtesy of Veselin Ivanov on Art Station
Name: Revna
Age: 22
Features: Revna is no great beauty by continental standards. She stands over nearly all men at 6'8, covered in corded muscled and tattoos depicting everything from bears and dragons to forgotten runes and ancient spirit gods. Her nose is large and hooked, set on a harsh, heavily scarred face that seems carved from cracking and cold stone. Her thick hair, unkempt and greasy, is braided tightly in a style once considered barbaric in Pendria. Then demons took over, and no one really cared about hairstyles anymore.
Back in her homeland, though? She would be a great favorite.
Revna normally wears crudely made, soiled peasant clothing cut for a man, though she has recently donned her mother's armor. Well, the breastplate, anyways. The rest was too large for her. Revna also wears her a heavy cloak and thick leather armor with padded and rugged cloth garb underneath.
Bio: Like most youths in the Seven Villages, Revna's story begins at the end.
Revna's people come from Illskaheimr, a continent far to the north of Monothrana and connected only by a small strait. A cold and unforgiving land disconnected from the politics and wars of the south, it is inhabited by various tribes and small war-like nations, but the strongest among them are the Dottir people, a semi-matriarchal society ruled by both a queen and a council comprised of men and women elected from the tribe. Unlike those of the continent, they don't worship The Faith but their own pantheon of ancient and mysterious animistic gods and goddesses. Revna's mother, Roska, was a hulking woman, cunning warrior, and their princess in line for the throne.
Her father, Haldor? Not so much.
Revna's parents met while in service to the king of Pendria as part of the Norrgard, an elite unit of warriors from Illskaheimr who acted as royal bodyguards and shock troops when at war. They were prized for their loyalty to their patrons, since they were from foreign lands with no real ties to the political intrigue of the continent, and their disturbing love of battle.
Despite Haldor's smaller stature and unimpressive abilities in combat, he managed to charm Roska, a task many had tried their hand at and promptly lost them. The two married in the forests of a foreign land, an attempt to appease their gods. Shortly after, Revna was born. Just in time for the end of days.
The attack came without warning, with large swaths of the city crumbling and giving way to hordes of hellish creatures crawling up from the depths. According to her father, he was ready to die alongside his wife defending the king in glorious battle, but Roska begged him to flee with their daughter. Somehow, he also managed to bring along her weapons and armor when he did so.
Revna remembers little of these days, but she remembers how the sky turned black and the grass shriveled. She remembers bandits and thieves, monsters both human and demonic. Then, as if they entered another world, everything returned to normal. They made it to the Seven Villages.
Her early life was one big identity crisis. While a diligent father, Haldor sent mixed messages. She was the "promised warrior princess, destined to return to Illskaheimr and liberate it from the demonic hordes," but she was also Revna the farmer. Revna the shit-shoveler. Her royal title kept secret from all but her. He taught her the ways of their own gods and their people, all the ancient and mysterious rites and rituals, but also those of The Faith so they could fit in more, perhaps advance their station. That never panned out. He taught her to fight, training every evening with steel, but also never to draw her blade in town in accordance with the The Faith's tenets. He told her tales of battle, her mother the warrior princes cutting down men by the dozens with a swing of her halberd, and then scolded her for beating up the neighbor boy. It was a strange fusion of beliefs she learned, somewhere between chivalry and barbarity. Haldor had tried his best, but only left his daughter with a muddled moral compass and largely confused.
Then Haldor fell ill.
Her father had told her that, to their people, nothing was more glorious than dying in battle. Conversely, nothing was more shameful than to die on your back in bed. Though he seemed more than content to pass away peacefully in the comfort of his own home, his faithful daughter helpfully reminded him of this tenant of their true faith. Not wanting to fail his only daughter, Haldor left the Seven Villages, burdened by illness and a sword and shield that he could hardly carry anymore. Revna begged to go, to die alongside him in battle, but Haldor turned her back home, telling her, "Greater glories await you than this sad death I go to."
In the three years since, Revna has been restless and with little direction. She plows the fields of her failing farm, tends to the animals, drinks at the tavern, and relentlessly trains with her mother's halberd and sword. She's starting to wonder
why she trains at all. No perfect death or honor awaits her in the Seven Villages.
Strengths:Warrior's Blood: The people of Illskaheimr are unusually large compared to those in the Midrealms, but Revna's size would stand out even among the Dottir. She is unbelievably strong and deceptively agile, traits inherited from her mother and built upon from a life of farming and training. While her fighting style may lack refinement, Revna more than makes up for it in raw power. She is most skilled with her mother's halberd and longsword, but can also shoot a bow if needed. Just don't expect too much.
Animal Affinity: Legends have passed down from generation to generation of those among the Dottir people with the ability to tame wild beasts using nothing but a calm word and gentle touch. A blessing from their gods. Haldor even told Revna as a child that her mother rode a behemoth bear into battle that would tear foes apart with tooth and claw. The legends may or may not be true, but Revna believes she's been blessed with the ancient power, and with good reason. She is able to tame a bucking and wild horse with ease, guide runaway cattle gently into their pen, and once even sent a lone wolf running from the chicken coop with nothing but a word. Renva can ride any beast with complete control and grace so long as it's large enough to carry her, and farmers from all over the Seven Villages bring their shepard dogs to her for training.
She hasn't gotten to test her suspected powers on bears. Yet.
Magnetic: Maybe it's her imposing size, maybe it's her borderline-delusional confidence, or maybe it's the blood of a warrior princess flowing through her veins, but something about Revna's personality compels people to listen to what she has to say. They're drawn to follow Revna, often placing their trust in her much faster than they would another. Many of the older citizens of Monothrana, especially those from Pendria, will recognize her as a member of the Dottir tribe and remember their role as noble protectors of the king, lending her some measure of instant trust. If that all else fails, she can simply intimidate them into getting her way. Few in the Seven Villages can match her in physical strength, so this combined strategy has worked well so far.
Weaknesses: Illiterate: The most Revna's ever read is a tattered martial arts manuscript, and she only looked at the pictures. Warriors don't read.
Reckless: Part cultural and part personality, Revna is an impulsive decision maker and rarely thinks her actions through. She just makes a choice and leans on her strength like a crutch to get her through tough spots. Like many Dottir people, she has a sort of "death-drive." When you come from a culture that glorifies death in battle, charging into a room of fully armed enemies with nothing but a butter knife in hand is a win-win; either you leave victorious, or achieve the death you venerate.
Connections: Revna is well-known throughout the Seven Villages, for good or for ill. Wagon tipped over on your brother's leg? She'll lift it. Steer got stuck in a muddy ditch? She'll lift it. Grandma fell over and can't get up? You get it. She also has a reputation for getting into fights, though she doesn't often pick them; young men and women see the hulking figure and want to test their mettle, and Revna never turns down a challenge.
Revna spends most of her free time at the tavern, where she's recently picked up a new drinking companion, Katrina. A symbiotic relationship of sorts, Revna's mere presence scares off most of the village idiots from Katrina, and the small woman provides Revna with someone who isn't constantly talking her fucking ear off. Most of the time, they simply sit there at their table and drink in silence. Recently, though, the two have developed a more
intimate relationship. Calling it a "romance" would be a great injustice to all things loving and tender, and it's one of Revna's many flings with the men and women of the Seven Villages, but it is certainly the most interesting. Even still, they have learned very little about each other save for the location of scars and tattoos normally concealed, though they never ask about their provenance. Hell, Revna doesn't even have the curiosity to wonder.
Revna hardly ever attends any official "church functions," and Brother Osric would know this. She appears at only the most important events, which missing would be frowned upon, but that's the extent of her interactions with The Faith. Brother Osric would also note that she often mixes up the names of their divine gods and goddesses, occasionally using names that sound strange and foreign. She isn't the only person living in the Seven Villages who is just keeping up appearances, but Revna is certainly the worst at it.
Her closest established relationship with the party is by far Sage. The two met several years ago when Sage was first "adopted" by the shop owner, from whom Revna often bought goods from for her father's farm. Their unusual friendship began when Revna noticed Sage's sword. Eager for a new sparring partner, the began meeting regularly for bouts despite the distance between their homes. Perhaps not the most personal friendship, as they mostly discuss swordplay and some kind of desire for a different life, but a strong bond nonetheless.
Assembly Response: Gods, this again? To Revna, it seemed like a General Assembly was called to order every other day. "Oh, a pig got loose and we need everyone to find it, oh, oh no, we think we saw a demon and he might have even touched a priest with his little red finger, oh no oh dear," Revna mocked bitterly from her spot at the back of the crowd. Of course, a General Assembly was
rarely called, but when you had to travel twenty miles of bad roads like Revna did, leaving behind a full days work, they became a nuisance more than anything. Still she attended, if only because a little monk would arrive at her home two days later asking where she'd been if she skipped.
Even behind the entire audience she had a good view of the scene, though she hardly paid any attention. To her, it sounded like a typical service with a little more jeering. Something parable about a dying knight and a chalice. It wasn't until the end of the brother's speech that Revna really listened, and then only because the crowd grew silent. Her eyes widened. This was her chance. No more shoveling shit. No more wrestling oxen to plow dusty fields. A real chance at glory, at battle. Maybe even the start to take back her homeland and claim her rightful seat as queen of the Dottir. If there were any left. She didn't care about any chalice, but the opportunity to get her hands dirty? Easy choice.
Her words broke the silence first, harsh and rasping voice cutting through empty air from the back of the audience.
"I will go with you Brother Osic!"
She strode through the throng of peasants with her usual confidence.
"I will go with you. By my life, the Cup of Foes will be returned to its rightful seat. I swear this to you, upon my honor and before the god Onäma." A foreign goddess, a war goddess of the North, but close enough in name to the Mother Above's son, Omida, that either no one noticed or was willing to call her out. That, or her other mistakes. They knew better than to correct her by now.
Revna made it to the brother's stool now and locked her sharp green eyes with his, and he instantly knew. She meant it. She would go. She would
die if need be. Revna was afraid she'd have to spend perhaps the last days of her life with Brother Osric, a devout, faithful, and by her estimation, boring man. Luckily, a familiar face joined them. Katrina. When she stepped up, Revna clasped a heavy hand on the woman's shoulder and smiled broadly, revealing her gapped front teeth and a missing canine, but said nothing. As was their way.
But that was it. No more volunteers. Revna turned to the crowd and raised her dirty rake, the rake she'd been leaning on and that she brought twenty miles for just that purpose. She raised it above her head like a warrior rallying their soldiers to battle.
"Who else will come? Or are you all cowards? Content to sit here while the world dies?"
At this, a platoon men and women jolted up as if from a deep sleep and stepped forth with shouts and cheers, all seemingly ready to go to war for the brother's cause. She held back a laugh, knowing that of the thirty or so that so eagerly volunteered, perhaps one or two of the eager would-be demon slayers would actually leave the Seven Villages when the time came. Still, better than nothing.
Revna's sharp eyes searched the crowd for another familiar face. Sage. She'd assumed her friend would have been the first volunteer after all their talk of adventure, of wanting something more of this life, but Sage remained firmly in the crowd. Unexpected, but Revna let her disappointment fade when a single thought came to mind.
I'm going on an adventure.
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