Riyah Endforsworn

http://img5.imageshack.us/img5/2862/headshotepl.jpg Unaligned Female Deva Invoker

Level 1

Paragon Path: Winterstar's Pactmate

Ability Scores

Strength 12 (+1) [+1]

Constitution 14 (+2) [+2]

Dexterity 9 (-1) [-1]

Intelligence 16 (+3) [+3]

Wisdom 18 (+4) [+4]

Charisma 10 (+0) [+0]

Health

HP 24

Bloodied 12

Surge Value 6

Healing Surges 8

Senses and Movement

Initiative -1

Passive Insight 19

Passive Perception 14

Speed 6

Defenses

AC 16

Fortitude 13

Reflex 14

Will 15

Skills

Acrobatics -1

Arcana +8

Athletics +1

Bluff +0

Diplomacy +0

Dungeoneering +4

Endurance +2

Heal +4

History +10

Insight +9

Intimidate +0

Nature +4

Perception +4

Religion +10

Stealth -1

Streetwise +0

Thievery -1

Feats

Armor Proficiency (Cloth, Leather, Hide, Chain)

Implement Expertise

Ritual Caster

Weapon Proficiency (All Simple)

Racial Features

Astral Majesty

Astral Resistance

Immortal Origin

Memories of a Thousand Lifetimes

Class Features

Channel Divinity: Preserver's Rebuke

Channel Divinity: Rebuke Undead

Covenant of Preservation

Powers

At-Will

Melee Basic Attack: Quarterstaff (+3 vs. AC, 1d8+1 damage)

Ranged Basic Attack: Avenging Light

Avenging Light (1)

Vanguard's Lighting (1)

Encounter

Blades of Astral Fire (1)

Daily

Winter's Cloak (1)

Gear

Quarterstaff

Hide Armor

Adventurer's Kit (swaps Hemp Rope for Silken Rope)

10 gp in Mystic Salves

31 gp

Rituals

Gentle Repose

Hand of Fate

Languages

Common, Draconic, Elven, Giant

Background

Mountain-Dweller, Scholar

Riyah's never been an adventurer or hero, in any of her lives. Her soul was always more suited for quiet study and contemplation, providing answers to others and uncovering small mysteries of the universe. And in the small library-monastery community of Oktari's Vale, she thought she'd be able to spend all of her current incarnation doing exactly that. The servants of Orcus had other ideas, though. One fine winter evening they assaulted Oktari's Vale with a small army of undead and lesser demons, and nothing could stand in their way - that is, until a piece of the Raven Queen whispered within Riyah's soul, offering her the power to destroy her enemies. She accepted, and it wasn't until the moon rose over the empty battlefield that Riyah felt the unmovable presence of her new patron within her and realized exactly what she'd gotten herself into.

Appearance and Behavior

Riyah's appearance and demeanor are absolutely not typical of a servant of the Raven Queen. She dresses in bright colors, mostly yellows accented with red or forest green, and is cheerful, outgoing and talkative, forever interested in new songs, tales, jokes and similar. What most don't realize is that this is a conscious effort to push back the grim and humorless demeanor that her deity would impose on her. On the battlefield, though, she changes - becoming utterly emotionless and calculating, acting without flair or bravado but also without hesitation or remorse. Riyah's begun to believe that the Raven Queen wants her to gather the spirit of one specific villain in the world - and if she can just find that one person, she may be able to be free of her compact, and able to resume her former life.

Allies

Felaim Elswin: He's a strong ally, steadfast and bold, and yet he seems to keep a certain distance from me. I'm not sure why - perhaps I unsettle him in some way, or remind him of his past. He may be prejudiced against the Raven Queen... he certainly wouldn't be the first to hold such a fear, nor the first to fail to see that Her presence in my life is almost as unsettling to me as to those I am near. Or perhaps I'm simply imagining the whole thing, and he hasn't approached me because I haven't been able to get close to him. I'm not sure.

Regardless of the cause, I'll respect his wishes, or at least what I expect his wishes to be. He behaves with perfect courtesy towards me, and I can do no less than return the favor. If there is to be nothing more between us than respect and kind words and simple cooperation when it's needed, then so be it. I shan't risk ill-feeling or malice by trying to force a deeper bond where none was ever intended to exist. And if greater camaraderie or friendship is destined between us - well, let it grow in its own time, and in a soil free of deception's poison. It will be the stronger for it.

Caleb Paine: There are times when I wonder whether I should feel envy, awe, concern or pity for him. He has what so few have - a dream of something greater, a vision to change things for the better, the drive to reshape the world itself. It's a devotion that's rare, and precious, and valuable. And yet it's never enough, not on its own. There's always a need for something more to give it force, and substance and the resilience to last. The centuries are littered with the broken dreams of would-be heroes who failed to understand this, and acted too soon. And Caleb, to his credit, understands this. But I wonder if he also understands how easily a hero's dream can be stolen. Changed and corrupted by the wicked, or the ignorant, or the simple turnings of fate, and made into a hollow mockery of itself and an indictment of everything he ever fought for.

I've not spoken to him of this. I'm not sure I ever shall. It's hardly the sort of thing I'd expect him to listen to, and it's not like I have an answer in any case. The heroes we remember found some way to impose their dreams upon the very world, to make everyone share their belief in what was good and right - what use is naming the destination if one can't even begin to guess the path to get there? Besides, if he is to succeed in his self-appointed quest, Caleb must do so in the end on his own - without relying on me, or anyone else. I am at least in place to watch, and possibly for a short while longer move to catch him should he fail too soon.

Dross: It's odd, really. The ethicists and moral philosophizers would see so little common between us - my eternal lineage and celestial bloodline against the devilish taint of his ancestry, my reserve and detached perception against his raucous good cheer and carefree ways, my deific calling against his self-chosen path of wine, women and song. And yet... at the heart of things we're much alike, I suspect. Both shaped by hidden darknesses in our pasts, both seeking to hide from it by a self-aware immersion in the joys of life and the moment. Both seeking to escape from old memories by, I suppose, clawing our way bodily into the future.

He's a gift to me, in many ways. A chance to laugh, to dream, to forget my cares. Even if it is sometimes because I'm focusing on solving whatever mess he's gotten us all into this time. I listen to the muffled cries torn from his throat by nightmares, though, sometimes, and I wonder if he'll really be able to run away from his past. I wonder whether it's truly wise to try. Of course, when the alternative is so much inescapable pain...

It's irony, perhaps, or perhaps irony's opposite. But we may just trade rescues, he and I. If I stay sane, and go into the next incarnation as still a servant of the Light, it will no doubt be with his help. As for him... he has my friendship, and my counsel, and my prayers. I can only hope it's enough.

Asheth Barkeep: He's young. Headstrong and soulscarred, possibly his own worst enemy. I hope I can teach him, by example at least, what it means to live in the world - to want to create and nurture, rather than just excise and destroy, to be a person with his own hopes and dreams rather than just another mannequin agent of the wrath of the gods. Death is impersonal; anyone can kill, and the departed soul is gathered to my Queen not much caring who sent it on its way. To make a real difference, to do something no one else can, to change the world in a way that it matters who you were... you have to be somebody. You have to create something, shape memories that will last. It's not just enough to cut a hole in whatever piece of existence displeases you, and hope that something benign fills the void you left behind. You have to place yourself into it, in whatever way you can. You have to live.

I'm not sure if Asheth is able to understand this yet. I doubt I have the words to tell him - I barely understand it myself. But there's more to it than that - he's drowning in his own pain, not sure yet whether he wants to fight his way up to the surface and scream for rescue or surrender to the numbing black. I think he's strong enough to choose the harder path... I hope he's brave enough to do so. But whatever he chooses, my path is to be beside him at the end. And offer whatever sanctuary I can.

Links

John Galt runs "Scales of War"