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Description

Race: Elf
Sex: Female
Age: 26

It is difficult to describe, in words, Lady Riva's physical appearance; so enigmatic is it that she must be seen in order to be truly contemplated. In every sense of the word she is beautiful; at the same time, in every sense of the word she is grotesque. She towers above average men at a height of 602, but she is considered moderate by the standards of her kind, the Everlasting Elves. Her form is perfection, as though carved from marble, and is sleek, lithe; deadly. There was a time when Riva's long, silken locks were of lustrous gold; now, they glisten a satin, raven black. The pupils of her eyes are a match for her dark hair, except for sparkles of violet which flash through them unpredictably, allowing a mere glance to be utterly transfixing in its perplexity. Her lips are full, voluptuous, inviting, and are painted with a nacreous crimson that stands a stark contrast to her pale face. The Elves are known for their ashen flesh, but Riva's has devolved beyond that, becoming pallid, wan, and thin, allowing her spidery vessels to show through in various places. Most of her body is smooth as polished porcelain, but in places it is mottled and knobbly; most notably, Riva's hands have transformed in this way. These sickly deformations are a result of the dark, esoteric magics with which the woman tampers; as time passes, the arcane forces warp and twist her soul, as well as her physical being.

Riva is both angelic and repugnant to behold; any who look upon her are captivated, fascinated, and vexed by her appearance.

Personality

Once, seemingly in a time long lost, Riva was described as serene. She has long forgotten any such notions; now, Riva can only be characterized as sadistic. She revels in the torment and agony of those around her, and delights in their suffering. She no longer cares for the peaceful ways of her people and has cast off any remnants of her heritage, forsaking the longevity of the Everlasting for a life of whimsical pleasure. Riva cares not for nature's beautiful creations; instead, she harbors a sick admiration for the ugly, and her realm features the aspects of the world which seem to reflect Riva's own inner self, perhaps unbeknownst to her conscious mind. Riva cares not for the lives of others; indeed, the very essence of her magic feeds off of death itself, and the woman will not hesitate to execute any poor, unfortunate soul that finds itself at the mercy of her whims. Her cruelty, malice, and perversion know no bounds, and there is no low to which Riva will not sink for personal gain. She even battles necrophiliac urges regularly, and has even succumbed to them on occasion--fortunately, undead men tell no tales.

Before, the Queen of Death thought nothing of gods and their fancies, and was content in her ignorance of their otherworldly schemes; now that the time for change has come, and certain gods face exile, Riva's intrigue has been piqued. Her aspirations for power are unbounded by reason, logic, or the extent of a mere mortal's capability; yet, her dark magic corrupts her flesh, mind, and soul, and, after it has taken its toll and left her a deformed, loathsome shell, it will kill her. Riva desires no less than immortality and an eternity in which to practice her black arts.

Only the gods of Life and Death, the doctrines of whom Riva mocks with every act, can stand to block her path.

Equipment

Riva carries only one piece of personal equipment: the bizarre and extraordinary scourge known as the Nim Lash. It is a whip the length of which is occupied by segmented blades. On the surface the Nim Lash seems mundane enough, but in truth it is possessed with a mind of its own--a mind Riva has learned to control with her magic. An ignorant mortal would find the weapon unruly, unresponsive, and utterly unable to be used; Riva, on the other hand, can manipulate the Lash's most minute movements.

This inventory might seem bland, and to a warrior of arms completely lacking in effectiveness, but Riva's true weapon is the unfathomable depth of her mind, for it possesses the arcane secrets to her diabolical magics. She has mastered the art of necromancy and can raise the unliving corpses of her slain enemies to fight on her behalf. Riva's powers are not thusly limited, however; she can manifest her necrotic magic in multitudinous fashions: her abilities in that regard are limited only by her imagination. To a lesser extent, Riva can manipulate the darkness around her, as though it were a living organism--or perhaps a dole of clay ready to be molded. Shadow magic is potentially even more dangerous than necromantic; thus, Riva saves her most potent spells for when they are most necessary.

Her powers are fueled by death: to replenish her magical energies, Riva feasts on the essence of the recently-slain. The more she kills, the more powerful she grows, and as long as there are foes to fell, her supply of magic is never-ending.

A warrior of the sword with enough fortitude to withstand Riva's spells could easily close in and force her into melee, where even her animated scourge would be insufficient protection. Thus, Riva has created for herself a guardian, fashioned of flesh, bone, and steel; animated by her demoniac sorcery.

The construct named Griev stands an imposing ten-and-a-half feet tall, and is broader than two men standing shoulder-to-shoulder. The naked eye can see only the pitch-black plates of armor that cover Griev's entire body and which are inscribed with arcane runes no ordinary mortal can comprehend. The helmet features a single narrow eye-slit through which two pallid, orange, glowing orbs can be seen. If not for those, an ignorant man might assume the golem was a living person of considerable stature. Griev's movements also belie his artificial nature, and are fluid and organic. Beneath the blackened steel is an articulate mass of bone and muscle ingeniously interwoven into a massive, powerful body. Griev functions without vital organs, or entrails of any sort, and the mass occupying his helmet contains no neurological system: Griev is animated by Riva's will alone, and feels no pain, no emotion. Devastating wounds are meaningless to the construct, and he will continue to carry out his creator's bidding until his parts can no longer function. His only weaknesses are his unrelenting compulsion to follow Riva's orders and his lack of higher mental functioning.

Griev carries an impossibly broad sword that would be inconceivable for any mortal man to lift, let alone reliably wield; yet Griev swings it to and fro with ease, and can cleave in twain even the most heavily-armored foe with nary an ounce of effort.

There are hushed rumors that the golem was constructed from the remains of Lord Brynn, Riva's late father.

History

Years ago, the fortress Angarhyelm, constructed in ages past into the face of the Hanleyn Mountains above the peaceful rural village of Owinn, was a pristine palace exemplifying the natural beauty the Everlasting Folk prized so highly. It was home to a small community of Elves overseen by the powerful and just Lord Tor Brynn, who had commissioned the structure as a defensible bastion against a demonic attack that never came; slowly, Elven families desiring the peaceful seclusion of the mountainside castle trickled through its gates and made their home. It was here, after Angarhyelm's battlements had been converted to gardened terraces, that Riva was born into the world.

Even at birth she was beautiful, and many of Brynn's tenants commented that the babe must have been molded by the gods themselves. As the daughter of a powerful and wealthy Elven king, Riva grew up knowing only luxury and excess. She was doted upon constantly, knowing not the various hardships life had to offer, and she became the idol princess; perhaps it was here that the seeds for her sadistic personality were first planted.

For twenty years, Riva knew nothing beyond the walls of Angarhyelm, so when a mysterious visitor arrived unannounced at the castle gates, she was inexorably excited. Never one to turn away a weary traveler, Lord Brynn warily allowed the stranger into the white palace. Little did the Elven king know that he had mistakenly invited a demon into his home.

The demon, called Adonis, had been drawn to Angarhyelm by an abstruse calling; only after gaining access to the fortress's interior did Adonis recognize its source. To the demon's astonishment, it seemed the young Riva possessed the spark of sorcery, an untapped source of potent magical energy that, with proper instruction, could be released to great potential. Seeing an opportunity, Adonis wasted no time in befriending the princess.

And Riva, too, was electrified by her relationship with Adonis, for he was beautiful and charming and mystical, and an aspect of him was impenetrable to her uninitiated mind, only adding to her excitement. In time, Adonis gained his place in the royal house; Brynn would not approve of a marriage between Riva and the seemingly-human man, but he could not bear to send away his beloved daughter's only true companion.

With unrestricted access to the princess, Adonis began work on the girl, teaching her the wonders of magic and convincing her of the power she had within. All the while, his own demonic magics toyed with Riva's mind, twisting her thoughts and feelings, molding them into forms that served Adonis' own needs. The sorcerer's spark inside Riva could have developed into anything; Adonis manipulated it, and Riva, until the only power she knew was darker than black. Her mind was easy to control, and her powers were astonishing, her development extraordinary. In no time at all, she was practicing the blackest of magics at Adonis' behest.

But Riva's power never stopped growing, not even after it surpassed Adonis' own. Without the strength to control the girl's mind, she could see him for who he really was: an small, ugly, worthless wretch who tinkered with toy spells.

And as the diabolic sorcery took its hold on the girl and began to warp and twist her soul, her home of Angarhyelm began to morph as well. She slayed its inhabitants, including her own father, feeding off of their dying essence, growing ever more powerful. The castle's pearly walls turned black as soot. The gardens wilted and died, replaced by thorny thickets and black-petaled roses. The once-bright Elven palace became a dismal, shadowy place that exuded nothing but sadness and the stench of death. Riva dwells at its center as the queen of the damned souls that wander its empty halls in search of retribution that will never come.

Adonis never left Angarhyelm, and dwells within its walls to this day, serving as Riva's right-hand and adviser. His demonic magic is potent, and though he can still manipulate the minds of unsuspecting mortals, appearing as the graceful, beautiful, princely figure of the girl's past, Riva has long evolved beyond his petty powers and can see his true form; thus, he has submitted his body and soul to her service.





Starting Location: Angarhyelm

Pronunciation notes:
Riva: "rye-vah"
Griev: "greev"
Angarhyelm: "anger-helm" (closest approximation, anyway)
Brynn: "brin"
Adonis: "ah-dawn-iss"

Riva's Story