Raevanis "Raven" Dwin'Alir's page

Standing six feet tall, Raevanis combines an elf's slender form with the athletic build of a trained warrior and moves with the grace that is a defining characteristic of his people, even if on occasion it takes an almost predatory quality. With complexion so fair as to be considered pale, his long hair is midnight black, a trait that along with his given name has earned him the nickname "Raven", while his almond-shaped eyes are entirely a deep red color, quite the change from the vibrant blue orbs he was born with. Usually dressed in well-made fitted attire of darker hues, such as midnight blue, indigo and black, Raven generally prefers to wear as light and non-restrictive a suit of armor as he can find when necessary, though he does show a preference of forgoing it entirely if he can do so. His weapon of choice is the longsword, ideally of mastercrafted quality, and one such weapon is more often than not resting in a scabbard by his left hip, while he tends to also keep a trio of daggers on his person at almost all times, one sheathed horizontally at the small of his back and the other two kept in a pair of concealed spring loaded wrist sheaths.

Raevanis is civilized, charming and witty, or at the very least he used to be before the bite of a vampire changed his life. That unfortunate event and the tragic circumstances of his life after it appear to have dimmed his spirit and made him more withdrawn than the gregarious and quick-to-smile elf that he was. Still, as his condition progresses and his connection to his mortal origins diminishes, the tragedies and crimes of his past life start to feel as not that much of a burden and have less and less of a hold on him. An odd consequence of that is that his charm and wit and even his crooked smile are returning as he embraces his new reality and life, or unlife as it were, even if such character traits now appear to on occasion have a bit more of a... bite to them and his wit is somewhat drier than before sometimes.

There were two things about the young elf called Raevanis that no one expected to come true. One, that a boy that seemed so unable to stand still would actually manage to muster the discipline to do so long enough to become a capable and skilled swordsman. The other, that his noble House name of Dwin'Alir, elven for "Walkers in Shadow", would one day prove to be so fitting in so tragic a way.

The first of Celeador and Ellanira's two children, Raevanis was born more than a century ago, and almost two full decades before his younger sister Arianne, into the noble elven House of Dwin'Alir in the port city of Greengold in Kyonin. Quite unlike his father, who more or less epitomized the image of the aloof elven noble, Raevanis -or Raven as some of his non-elven friends would call him, the nickname having started being used because of his actual name as well as his midnight black hair- was free-spirited and gregarious, making friends among the commoner folk, elven and non-elven alike, easily despite his own social status. In fact, he preferred their company, finding them a welcome change from his family's friends and acquaintances, and would more than once sneak out of one of House Dwin'Alir's social gatherings to meet up with youths of other races on some rooftop or other. His father disapproved of course and his mother as well, albeit the latter less severely than the former, while his younger sister looked up to him, her older brother, and always looked forward to those times, few though they were, that he asked her to join him in his escapades.

Still though, even elves grow up eventually and must therefore leave behind childish things. And even though Raevanis did retain much of the nature of his youth, his charm and wit did become more refined as the years and decades passed, making men and women out of those boys and girls he had spent much of his own youth with, and he finally stood still long enough for his father to start teaching him and training him in the ways of fighting with a sword. Celeador, being an accomplished swordsman himself and quite proud of his mastery of the blade, wanted to pass his knowledge and skill to his son, hardly a strange desire for a father. And Raven proved an apt pupil, finding grace and elegance in his father's style of swordplay. Indeed, he was quick to pick up the moves and forms Celeador taught him, the longsword feeling almost like an extension of his arm during their sparring and training sessions before long. It was a good time. A pity it did not last long, at least considering how elves measure time.

As good as training and sparring is, even with real blades, and as much as it build discipline, it cannot replace actual battle experience and fighting or at least functioning alongside others, or so Celeador thought. It had certainly held true for him, as the older elf had spent quite some time when he had been younger patrolling the edges of Tanglebriar alongside other elves of Kyonin. So the time came he decided his most prized student, his own son, was ready to put what he had been taught to some use and perhaps learn from the experience. Indeed, even Raevanis, having grown much closer to his father over the years of training under him, was curious and perhaps even looking forward to putting his skills to the test. Unfortunately, such a thing was not to be.

It happened during Raven's first patrol. His was a newly formed unit, so its members were given a simple enough first task: scout a part of the Tanglebriar's northern edge, keeping a safe distance and with strict orders not to engage anything unless such a thing could not be avoided. A sort of a way to get their feet wet, as the human saying goes. But something went wrong, terribly so. Because with the exception of Raevanis, none returned from that simple scouting mission. And even he did so barely, sick and weak and pale from loss of blood, even though no visible wounds could be found. Not by the time he stumbled back into the closest elven camp, collapsing right in the middle of it.

It was immediately decided he would return to his family in Greengold, but he would do so under heavy guard as there were certain theories about what had transpired, or at least some of it. By the time he and his escort finally reached his family's estate, he was still weak and pale, but there were other disconcerting changes as well, most prevalent among them that the blue eyes he had been born with had given their place to orbs of a deep red color. These shifts in his appearance, along with the theories about what had happened, theories the elves escorting him shared with Raven's father, convinced Celeador that his son should be kept in his room and under guard at all times -imprisoned, in other words- until he and Ellanira could reach a decision about what was to be done. It took time, time during which Raevanis began growing resentful, while his father started to feel that his son was lost or would soon be and his mother believed that something could still be done, that perhaps some cleric or some divine magic could return him to how he was, to what he was.
And then there was Arianne. The sister who dearly loved her brother. The sister who would do anything for him and finally did. The sister who brought him food and drink each day and then, one day, a key as well. The sister who distracted the household guards. Who helped him escape.

Leaving his family and the city he had been born in behind, Raevanis wandered for a time, one year giving its place to the next and then the next and so on, until he found himself in Talingarde, an island in the northern hemisphere of Golarion, though not without assistance. It seems he had caught the interest of one Cardinal Adrastus Thorn, an apparently powerful man who through agents of his he had managed to facilitate the elf's voyage there. It had not come out of altruism of course, but even so Raevanis made it clear that although he was grateful, he did not see eye to eye with the man to say the least and any gratitude he felt would be expressed with words only raather than deeds. Surprisingly enough, the Cardinal actually allowed him to go, albeit with a strange smile on his lips. The elf was indeed a little suspicious, but he did not dwell too much on it, but in retrospect perhaps he should have had. Truth be told though, he did not plan on staying there for long anyway, but alas, fate had other plans and one more tragedy in store for him. Shortly after he had reached this land, Celeador and Arianne arrived as well and it was not long until their paths crossed. It was not a happy reunion.

Words were spoken, harsh words by both father and son, and despite Arianne's tearful attempts at stopping the argument, soon enough swords were drawn. Celeador had given up on his son ever becoming what he was long ago; indeed, it would not have been an exaggeration to say that the older elf had come to see Raevanis as no longer an elf, but a monster, an abomination, even though he still drew breath and was not yet what both his family and himself knew he would eventually become. And Raven was still bitter and resentful at the way his own father and mother had treated him after his return from the Tanglebriar.
The first sword blow was struck by the patriarch of House Dwin'Alir, but the younger elf managed to parry it just in time before responding kind. And so it went for a while, and even though it seemed as if Raevanis was holding his own, his weakness from whatever had happened to him at that scouting mission along with his father's clearly superior skill soon proved his undoing. But although Celeador stood poised to strike the final blow and end his son's life, his sword never came down. Something stopped him as he looked at Raven and for a moment saw his son as he had once been. Perhaps there was still a chance at reconciliation. Perhaps... if Raevanis had also stopped. But carried away by the fight and focused on parrying and counterattacking, the younger elf seized this opportunity. And he struck.

Afterwards Raevanis only remembered bits and pieces of what followed, distraught and even horrified as he was at what had done. There was his sister's cries and screams of anguish and the image of her beautiful face twisted with pain and grief and anger and hate. There was his coughing and the flecks of blood that came with it as he half ran and half stumbled away from the place the duel with his father, so unlike the sparring sessions of his youth, had taken place. And then... darkness and nightmares. And, oddly, a sense of... accomplishment of sorts, a feeling of pride at besting such a strong opponent, such a skilled swordmaster. And he felt a part of him, once small but having grown in the last few years and growing still, liked it.

After a while, he felt himself regaining consciousness. And the very next thing he felt? Strong arms lifting him up, gruff voices, threats spoken with a tone of authority. And in an instant he knew what had happened. And he knew who had turned him in, who had brought these men of law. And then he wept one more time, perhaps the last. In fact, when he turned on them, he still had tears in his eyes as he managed to wrest a sword from one of them and then proceeded to kill a couple and injure a few more, the element of suprpise and his own skill with a blade apparently all he needed to make his escape. Or at least his escape from the fate they had in store for him.

Cardinal Adrastus Thorn welcomed him back with a thin smile, a smile so like the one he had when he had allowed him to leave with only words of gratitude as payment for his debt. A smile that made Raevanis feel as if the man had known how events would play out for the elven vampire to be from the first time he had laid eyes on him.