Post by Raiven Thorn on Mar 16, 2009 14:51:03 GMT -5
Full Name: Raiven Saviero Thorn
Nationality: Half Empire/Half Tilean
Age: 49
Career: Witch Hunter
Career Rank: 40
Renown Rank: 30
Guild: Darkenvane
Description
Raiven Thorn is a tall, swarthy man of lean frame. Despite middle-age, he still retains a full head of sable hair, courtesy of his Tilean heritage. A pair of pale blue eyes dominate the leathery relief map of wind-blasted flesh that serves as his face, giving him a deceivingly hard look that belies a much gentler soul. Whether for his chronic bone pain or for his own social ineptitudes, Thorn is seldom seen smiling, despite his warm nature, and when he does, he displays skeletal yellow teeth that does little to improve his grim countenance.
He has a crow-shaped brand at the base of his neck and his right hand is almost always covered in a leather glove, even when the other may be exposed.
Thorn is a well articulated man prone to deep conversation. He is never one to shy away from the invitation of good pipesmoke and stimulating palaver. Though he will not stomach evil, injustice, or heresy, Thorn has about him an incredible degree of compassion and forgiveness.
“Imperfect souls are we all…”
Background
The son of an Imperial inquisitor and a Tilean merchantress, Raiven was raised almost exclusively by his father in the Empire. As a young man, he was forged into a hardened Imperial inquisitor, following in his father’s footsteps, and joined the Darkenvane fraternity at the age of eighteen. Since that time, he has moved up through the ranks to the position of Grand Hexen, where he presides at the head of his obscure organization. Many of his hardline views faded over the years, replaced instead by a deeper understanding of existence and his place in it. Now, all that matters to him is the kindred of his fraternity, whom he places before all others.
Personality Quirks/Mannerisms
Thorn dislikes being called Raiven, because it was the last thing he was called by his wife as she screamed in her death.
Thorn has a flare for formality, and will often address people by their titles and last names. He finds the use of first names awkward with those he is not close to. If he uses an individual’s first name, it is because that is either the only name by which he knows the individual, or he feels very comfortable and close to them.
Thorn is a minimalist when it comes to eating. Cold beans, trail rations, and a simple canteen of water do him just fine.
Thorn is plagued by chronic bone pain, though he hides the actual pain to the best of his ability.
Passions/Loves:
Thorn loves animals and has several pets himself: a grumpy Mastiff named Haus, his horse Sara, and a coup of carrier pigeons to which he tends. He also enjoys smoking a pipe and “holding palaver” with good company.
Hatreds/Pet Peeves:
Raiven abhors anyone harming or threatening his kindred, which will usually conjure a wrath in him not usually witnessed.
Hobbies:
Thorn used to write poetry when he was a young man. In the wake of the Plague and losing his wife, sentiment has returned to his pen, and he has written a few verses that he keeps to himself
Nationality: Half Empire/Half Tilean
Age: 49
Career: Witch Hunter
Career Rank: 40
Renown Rank: 30
Guild: Darkenvane
Description
Raiven Thorn is a tall, swarthy man of lean frame. Despite middle-age, he still retains a full head of sable hair, courtesy of his Tilean heritage. A pair of pale blue eyes dominate the leathery relief map of wind-blasted flesh that serves as his face, giving him a deceivingly hard look that belies a much gentler soul. Whether for his chronic bone pain or for his own social ineptitudes, Thorn is seldom seen smiling, despite his warm nature, and when he does, he displays skeletal yellow teeth that does little to improve his grim countenance.
He has a crow-shaped brand at the base of his neck and his right hand is almost always covered in a leather glove, even when the other may be exposed.
Thorn is a well articulated man prone to deep conversation. He is never one to shy away from the invitation of good pipesmoke and stimulating palaver. Though he will not stomach evil, injustice, or heresy, Thorn has about him an incredible degree of compassion and forgiveness.
“Imperfect souls are we all…”
Background
The son of an Imperial inquisitor and a Tilean merchantress, Raiven was raised almost exclusively by his father in the Empire. As a young man, he was forged into a hardened Imperial inquisitor, following in his father’s footsteps, and joined the Darkenvane fraternity at the age of eighteen. Since that time, he has moved up through the ranks to the position of Grand Hexen, where he presides at the head of his obscure organization. Many of his hardline views faded over the years, replaced instead by a deeper understanding of existence and his place in it. Now, all that matters to him is the kindred of his fraternity, whom he places before all others.
Personality Quirks/Mannerisms
Thorn dislikes being called Raiven, because it was the last thing he was called by his wife as she screamed in her death.
Thorn has a flare for formality, and will often address people by their titles and last names. He finds the use of first names awkward with those he is not close to. If he uses an individual’s first name, it is because that is either the only name by which he knows the individual, or he feels very comfortable and close to them.
Thorn is a minimalist when it comes to eating. Cold beans, trail rations, and a simple canteen of water do him just fine.
Thorn is plagued by chronic bone pain, though he hides the actual pain to the best of his ability.
Passions/Loves:
Thorn loves animals and has several pets himself: a grumpy Mastiff named Haus, his horse Sara, and a coup of carrier pigeons to which he tends. He also enjoys smoking a pipe and “holding palaver” with good company.
Hatreds/Pet Peeves:
Raiven abhors anyone harming or threatening his kindred, which will usually conjure a wrath in him not usually witnessed.
Hobbies:
Thorn used to write poetry when he was a young man. In the wake of the Plague and losing his wife, sentiment has returned to his pen, and he has written a few verses that he keeps to himself