| Age: 27 | Gender: Male | Height: 6' | Weight: 140 |
| Size: Medium | Eye Color: Green | Hair Color: Grey |
Languages: Infernal, Common, Elvish
Arcana, Deception, Perception, Performance, Persuasion, Stealth, Survival
Tools: Navigator's Tools
Instruments: Pan Flute
Feats: Elven Accuracy
Recent Wind Speaker due to his compulsive need to try and Listen to the Wind through the mysterious Pan Flute, which he believes will lead him to his great grandfather... if he's still alive
Riven Fen was born to a human mother (Dierdra Fen) and half-elven father (Gan Fen) and is next in line to follow in his fathers footsteps as an ambassador, as is tradition in his family. Dragged from island to island as a child, Riven's family life was upper crust but desperately lonely.
One day while playing below deck of the Words of Reconciliation, 9 year old Riven came face to face with his grandfathers pan flute, elven in make, this was the first time Riven understood that his parents had hid something about his past from him... his elven great-grandfather, Vandallan Fendrim, seeker of the Three Boons and Bard. This pan flute belonged to Vandallan but was broken unable to produce sound when played, but there was an inscription on the side "Follow the Astral Wind to find your Boon" written in elvish.
When confronted with this artifact Dierdra and Gan refused to answer what the Boon was and where this pan flute had come from other than that his no-good-dirty-rotten-great-grandfather had given up his quest to find his Boon and instead took to a life of revelry and sin and left his broken pan flute behind. His great grandfather was alive, and living his life as a failure, his location unknown to Gan/Dierdra. It wasn't until Riven had all but given up on discovering what had happened to his grandfather over a decade later that someone/something would spark his curiosity once again.
From the day Riven discovered the broken pan flute, his image of his parents was colored with disillusionment. In his eyes, all this posh diplomacy was an act, a sham that the sons of failed parents used to artificially boost their station. Riven was beyond the aspirations of his fathers before him. He would learn all there was to learn, follow the astral wind and best his great grandfathers name and earn the position amongst the high elves that his great grandfather left behind. But that would require a level of power that was well beyond his reach.
Happy to get rid of their disappointment of a son, Gan and Dierdra sent Riven off to the college of magic, so that he might learn from the teachers there about the magic in his heritage. Despite the best tutors that money could buy, nothing the instructors attempted to impart in Riven managed to stick. He was lacking something fundamental to all wizardry ... work ethic. A childhood of luxury had left the half-elf lazy, and prone to taking the easy way out. Instead of practicing his spellbook, Riven took to convincing his classmates to fill out his spellbook for him.
In fact the only thing that Riven ever managed to excel at in school was taking advantage of his fellow classmates... that and a strong desire to learn all there was to learn about this pan flute. Hours spent in the library translating old elvish tomes into common, he would try and trick the other students into reading the tomes and reporting back anything interesting they would find.
Riven spent countless hours pouring through the notes written by his classmates, all the while spending his time in Armineas's class. It was here that he became obsessed with his teacher's mysterious effortless magic. How was it that this teacher was such a savant at the magic he needed, and was just as incompetent as Riven at just about everything else. Armineas actually preferred to use a javelin when his small collection of spells (cast without a spellbook) didn't do the job.... Javelin's requiring more strength than Riven cared to cultivate, he instead was inspired to take up the rapier. A much more ... civilized weapon, but once again he was terrible. Perhaps there was another wayArmineas managed to obtain his power. Could it be that even a magical hack could be powerful given the right ... patron?
Life continued in this way, Riven tries a new thing feeling that it would benefit the person he wished to be, that thing would be more difficult that he felt it was worth, he would give it up. Magic, Friendships, Swordsmanship, Music ... all were picked up as quickly as the last thing put down. A dropout, failure like his great grandfather, Riven kept the pan flute as a reminder to try again. He would earn his birthright, one way... or another.
The thing that Riven never counted on was that the world is a cruel place, one that failure can easily lead to death. The College of Mages was attacked in a brutal orc raid. The village surrounded and burning, Riven attempted to flee.
Weaponless, alone, with only his grandfathers pan flute around his neck, Riven ran into the fray, attempting to sneak his way between the fighting guards and orcs. No such luck exists. Instead Riven found himself on the shoreline, a single orc stopping him in his tracks, a fleeing Black Croc Ale ship moored in the distance. Riven did the thing he is best at, talk... lie... beg...PLEAD.
"Please don't kill me, my family has money, lots of money! I'll.. I'll give you everything. ANYTHING. Please let me leave this place with my life!"
The Orc stood confident and confused. The words of common deaf upon his ear, he raised his ax, attempting to bring it down upon Riven.
It was at this moment, Riven, not a religious half-elf, plead to all the gods and anything else that might be listening:
"If anything can hear me, I will give you anything you ask, please, PLEASE save me from this pathetic talentless death, I have to live. I must finish what my great grandfather abandoned. ... you can have it, when I find it. It'll all be yours! Help me discover this secret, I HAVE A DESTINY, DAMNED IT ALL!"
not even the sand stirred upon the beach, well that is until the ax attempted to cleave him in two again! ...
After what felt like an eternity, a single elderly voice called to him, carried upon an Astral Wind... "Play the flute and I shall grant you the talents you so desperately seek."
Riven has never been so quick to act in his life. Blowing upon the pan flute, a rusty rapier materialized as the wind behind his back rushed to help him, creating the only note Riven had ever heard come from the supposedly broken instrument. It was perfection, a melody that sparked an inspiration in Riven he didn't know he needed. A thousand and one oaths all spoken at once. His own voice joining the cacophony "I, Riven Fen, agree to your terms, you shall have the secret my great grandfather abandoned"
Riven fainted during the course of the battle ahead, not from being defeated. No, from the sheer toll that the blade took from him. His life, his own no longer, Riven found that the sword managed to fight not by the sweat of his brow but by the depth of his aspirations.
When he awoke, the panflute still hung on a chord around his neck, the rusty rapier hidden from sight but its presence known. The inscription on the panflute changed to a new simple message: "Seeker of the Winds' Secrets, Property of the Kingmaker"
Now Riven seeks to better himself by following in his grandfather's footsteps in his own way, not by playing the broken instrument, but by using his newfound blade, profiting from the talents granted by his pact.