[Verified by Gossamer] Rhiva

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Postby Rhiva on May 20th, 2021, 10:46 am



Race: Drykas
Gender: Female
Age: 25
Birthday: 18, Fall, 495
Birthplace: The Sea of Grass

Rhiva is a particularly unremarkable woman when it comes to her natural born features. Her hair is tan, her eyes are brown, and her skin is tinted from the sun that she toils beneath. She takes nothing from her mother as her siblings had, excepting for her personality, apparently leaning towards her unknown sire. She prefers to keep her hair- curly and untamable- cropped towards her dimpled chin, braiding the longer pieces of the front away from her eyes, but lets it grow just beneath the top of her shoulders before she clips it away. She's not soft bodied, narrow and muscular when compared to her female relative's more womanly assets. Her windmarks are extensive, ranging from the nape of her neck, spiraling down over both shoulders to reach her elbows where they stop in bands and flowing with the contours of her back until it reaches her haunches.

Character Concept

Growing up, and even now as she is an adult, jokes were abound of Rhiva's quiet nature, and although she is quiet type, it doesn't excuse her from the passionate, yet sometimes overly so, aggression that occasionally tramples her judgement. Many have said she hadn't earned her red-headed mother's fiery nature, seeing as she hardly looks like the mute anyway, but that only led to fights she wasn't always able to finish. Tending towards fight first, questions later, she's got a surly attitude with the right (or wrong) words.

She's always had a taste for traveling with a will to see all the cities in all the lands. When she isn't instigated, she thinks heavily before she speaks, her words chosen with care and dependent on who she is speaking with. No one riles her more than her mother, who can't speak herself, but who's passion and judgement ignites just as quickly as her daughter. While not a social butterfly, her quiet demeanor and average looks harbor a sense of friendliness that she doesn't dispute, and so she seems to be the approachable type, but only at first glance. She's very protective of her family and those she does claim as friends, but sidles close to callousness when those she doesn't know may be in danger.

Character History

Rhiva was born somewhere out in the plains. She had been found languishing, her skin burnt nearly as red as her hair, cowering as she was over the precious child she shielded. Nearly dead, not a muscle twitched at the blades parting beneath the steady four beat stride. The shade of the animal covered the dying woman and her babe until the sun set beneath the horizon and the cold of the night brought her awake and shivering. She'd tucked the child further in her arms, no moisture left in her body for the tears she wanted to shed as she ran her hand through the babe's tawny hair. The woman screeched at the sound of the stomping hoof, spinning on her heels and falling back to her haunches only to stare into the soft brown eyes of the beast standing stoutly in front of her. She didn't see the sides swollen with foal, nor the resting hindlimb, or the velvet muzzle that drooped with peace. No, all she knew was the wild horse, blinding in her luminescence, whose only intent could be to kill her.

Or at least, that's how Rhiva's father explained his 'witnessed' version of his third wife being chosen by the stryder mare and earning the knotted windmarks about her wrists and ankles. The tale was embellished beyond belief throughout the years, and Rhiva didn't know what to believe now that she was a married woman herself, growing rounder each day with her first child. And yet her father continued for the little ones that sat around him, their grubby fingers splayed on their knees as they watched him intently, little chicks peeping for him to continue when he paused at his daughter's disbelieving huff. Her husband's hands would press delicately into her sides, though she would swipe him away, hefting herself to her feet with sheer force of will. Her days of riding and carefree life seemed a distant thing in the past, and one she silently griped about, no matter the fondness her and her husband had found for each other.

She could remember his smile, a crooked thing with lower teeth that seemed to twist further when he was teasing. Her father's stories told in his voice aged with the windy plains. She remembered her mother's chiding hands, the willowy motions of her made up language they'd all learned over the years. The curses her and her siblings had constructed, flinging them at one another until it devolved into wrestling. She could still feel the cold nights where her husband would hold her, of her child's anguished wails during a bout of colic, of the tears and screams shed when the pox had taken them and half their pavilion, of the hard road she'd chosen when neither friend nor animal except her mare, Sasha, could pull her from the madness of ending her own life. She could feel the breeze rifling her too long hair, the anger in her downturned lips as she nicked her finger cropping it short, the dismay of her windmarks displaying all that she had grieved. Abstract as it was, she could almost see her child's face immortalized on the flesh of her right shoulder.

She was determined to escape her hurt, the ghosts of those she missed, to use her hard won skills as a huntress, as a mother, as a woman of grasslands and horses. She would travel as she always wished she would have done before marrying, before childbirth, and the duties given to her as such. The dangers of the plains gave her the realization, though, that all must be careful with what they wish for, as the Gods may decide to give you more than what you ask.

Upon reaching Riverfall, and with nearly too much heartbreak to bear, she released the horse whose feet trampled the dirt, flinging it into the sky as she returned to the camp. Rhiva's farewell was silent as she turned into the familiar city that was only a crossings on her way to a new beginning.

People's name and relation that may or may not end up being useful. All deceased, of course.
Markus- Father
Siri- Mother
Soraya- Elder Sister
Derus and Fioran- Younger brothers
Mira- Youngest Sister
Serias- Husband
Myora- Daughter


Fluent Language: Pavi.
Basic Language: Common.


Please list skills in alphabetical order by competency

Skill EXP Total Proficiency
Horsemanship 5 SP 5/100 Novice
Tracking 10 SP 10/100 Novice
Trapping 15 SP 15/100 Novice
Horse Riding 20 SP/10 RB 30/100 Competent


Horse Riding: lateral movement
Hunting: Trapping small game


1 Set of Clothing
-Simple Shirt
-Simple Pants
-Simple Undergarments
-Simple Cloak
-Simple Boots
1 Waterskin
1 Backpack which contains:
-Comb (Wood)
-Brush (Wood)
-Balanced Rations (1 Week's worth)
-1 eating knife
-Flint & Steel
1 large tent (4 person)
large tarp
100 ft of rope
flint & steel
2 torches
fishing tackle & hooks

Heirloom: A single carved bone earing her own mother had placed into her ear upon her marriage.


Location: Syka

House: A tent.


Purchase Cost Total
Starting +100 GM 100 GM
Cash in horse/saddle/saddlebags +250 GM 350 GM
2-quart pot, salt, wheat flour, yeast -10 GM 340 GM

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Last edited by Rhiva on May 23rd, 2021, 2:42 am, edited 6 times in total.
User avatar
Posts: 11
Words: 14271
Joined roleplay: May 20th, 2021, 10:36 am
Race: Human, Drykas
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