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View Full Version : Corva, Sorrowful Raven. [Exalted Character]



lumberofdabeast
2008-05-11, 09:10 PM
A note: Corva was made with a different chargen than is detailed in MoEP:Lunars. Because the one in MoEP: Lunars sucks. Most of the changes are here (http://thefreedomstone.com/phpBB3/viewtopic.php?f=6&t=4381&st=0&sk=t&sd=a), but there are three more. First, that third dot in Solar Bond was free because Solar Bond is terrible. Second, the Intimacy with her Solar mate was free. Third, Essence 3 cost two fewer bonus points.


Name: Corva, Sorrowful Raven
Player: Jonathon
Caste: No Moon
Spirit Shape: A large raven, with bands of dark blue feathers in addition to black on the wings and tail.
Concept: A cunning young lore-gatherer
Motivation: Redeem her Solar mate, who has become an Abyssal.
Anima: Dark blue and purple on the inside, with a corona of silver. Appears in the form of a heavily stylized raven, once it becomes iconic.
Tell: In human forms, her long black hair has bands of dark blue near the end. In animal forms, her coloration is black, with bands of blue at the tips other than the head.


Attributes

Perception: 3
Intelligence (Caste): 4
Wits (Caste): 5

Charisma (Favored): 3
Manipulation (Favored): 4
Appearance: 3

Strength: 2
Dexterity: 3
Stamina: 3


Abilities

Archery: 3
Awareness: 2
Dodge: 2
Martial Arts: 1

Linguistics: 3 (Languages known: Forest-Tongue, Clawspeak, Old Realm, Riverspeak)
Performance: 1
Presence: 1
Socialize: 1
Survival (Favored): 2

Investigation: 4
Lore (Favored): 4
Medicine: 1
Occult: 4


Backgrounds
Artifact: 3 (Moonsilver Long Powerbow)
Heart’s Blood: 2
Mentor: 2
Resources: 1
Solar Bond: 3

Charms
First Dexterity Excellency
First Manipulation Excellency  Mirror Sight Dismay
Outworld-Forsaking Stance
Terrestrial Circle Sorcery (Sacrifice: Tamed food, such as livestock or cultivated crops)

Terrestrial Spells
Emerald Countermagic
Summon Elemental

Knacks
Changing Plumage Mastery
Life of the Hummingbird
Prey’s Skin Disguise


Virtues
Compassion (Primary): 4
Conviction: 3
Temperance: 1
Valor: 2

Limit: 0

Limit Break: The Curse of the Frightened Rabbit

Viewing such horrible atrocities inflicted upon her fellow man and being unable to help has led the character to develop a powerful fear that the same things may happen to her. She becomes deeply skittish; any sudden movement or loud noise startles her, she flinches (at the very least) with any gestures in her general direction, and she avoids people whenever possible. Should a genuine threat present itself (such as anyone drawing weapons, or anyone who looks even vaguely combat-capable yelling at her, or in her general area), the character will flee at the first opportunity. If unable to flee, she cowers in a corner, under a table, or in some other suitable area, seeking to make herself small as possible, in the hopes of evading notice. Once she is in this state, calming her down is nearly impossible, and she is very easily frightened into flight again if it is actually managed.

Partial Control - The character still recognizes who her allies are, and may go to one of them to protect her instead of outright fleeing at the first drawn weapon. Additionally, she is much easier to calm down from raw terror, and she will not flee unless it becomes obvious that combat is imminent, as opposed to a mere possibility.


Willpower: 7


Soak: 3B/1L

Health Levels: -0, -1, -1, -2, -2, -4, Incap

Attacks
Moonsilver Long Powerbow (Arrow options: Broadhead, Fowling, Frog Crotch, Target)


Essence: 3

Personal: 17/17
Peripheral: 36/42
Committed: 6 Peripheral


Experience: 0


Intimacies
The Wanderer in Shadowed Hearts, her Abyssal mate
Knowledge, in all forms
Rekai Stormtalon, her mentor
The Solars, true masters of Creation
The little, nameless, out-of-the-way Eastern village where she grew up


Backstory: Corva was born in a tiny village in the East, far from pretty much anything of importance. The town was too remote and small to be of any importance to anyone, and was thus largely ignored except by the occasional passing tax collector. It wasn’t prosperous, but there was always enough to go around, and those who were ill or injured could usually afford to take a few days away from the carefuly managed fields and verdant forests to recuperate.

Corva showed a natural talent for learning as a young child, and was apprenticed to the village wise man. Until around her twenty-second birthday, her days were mostly spent learning herblore, treating the sick animals and people under the watchful eye of the Wisest (and receiving an ungentle whack upside the head when she acted incorrectly or showed disrespect), and mastering the river-tongue that the rare traders to pass through the area used. Her nights, on the other hand, were spent listening to the elder’s stories, memorizing them down to the tiniest little detail. On the rare occasions when she had free time, she spent them exploring anything interesting that she could, always striving to learn more about the world around her. She frequently spent an extended amount of time in the woods, whether trying to find rare flora or exploring old ruins covered in strange glyphs.

One day, while in her explorations, she saw a beautiful flower, high up in a tall tree. Recognizing the wonderful plant as having incredible restorative properties, she set out to pluck it from its place. She wasn’t a particularly talented tree-climber, but she had never let that stop her before, and she wasn’t going to now. Using a small dagger, her strongest arrow, and the tree’s own rough bark, she cautiously made her way up. When she neared the flower, she took nearby vines growing on the tree’s bark, and fastened a sturdy rope out of them. She fixed it to the branch she was sitting on, then climbed the remaining few feet and gently pulled the flower loose. She lowered herself down on her improvised rope, finding the trip down much easier on her hands. When she was about twenty feet from the bottom, she saw a raven, with bands of dark blue, and ancient eyes. The raven asked her what she sought to protect. She, assuming she was having a vision that would aid her on her path to becoming a wise woman, answered “Knowledge.” And the raven responded, “Then so be it.” At that point, she hit the ground, shaken out of her thoughts – she had let go of the rope during her vision without realizing it. The raven, if it had ever truly been there, was gone.

On the way back to her village, she stopped at a small lake, to get a drink and perhaps a quick meal of fish. She was startled to see a circle of silver glowing upon her brow, and moreso to see a great owl swooping behind her in the middle of the day. But the surprise of both of those paled in comparison to her shock when the raven turned into a large man, with elegant tattoos of silver, and a glowing circle upon his forehead to match her own. He introduced himself as Rekai Stormtalon, a Lunar Exalt. He sat, motioning for her to do the same.

Stormtalon told Corva many things that day. She learned of the Lunar Exalted (which she had apparently just become), and the Silver Pact, and the fierce Chimarae. It took her little time to decide to receive the moonsilver tattoos that adorned Stormtalon, and then it was her turn to tell Stormtalon many things. Her past, her deeds, her talents, her weak points, and her love of knowledge. When she was done, as the sun was about to set, and the full moon about to rise, he stood. He told her that he would keep an eye on her, but to prove worthy of joining the Pact, she must survive on her own for the next week. She must avoid all other people when possible, and refuse all help when not. After giving her two last pieces of advice, to avoid the full moon’s light and to avoid changing forms even if she learned how, Stormtalon took the form of the great owl again and left.

Corva overturned a large rock, knowing that soon someone from her village would come to gather water from this very lake, and would investigate. She wrote a message on it, with inks of crushed berries and a feather for a quill, saying that she was very grateful for all the time spent, and that she would return someday, but now she had to go. She considered mentioning Stormtalon, but decided not to. It didn’t seem right.

She went further east after that, knowing that the villagers didn’t like to go that way; strange things lurked there, according to rumor. She knew otherwise, having extensively explored the area. After two days of travel, she made a temporary camp and waited. Hunting was unusually scarce; unknown to her, Stormtalon was scaring all the animals away. Still, she found enough food to get by. Twice she met others, from other tribes, and exchanged nothing more than greetings. On what was to be the final day, however, she stumbled across the wise man. After the two watched each other for a moment, he simply asked, “Why?” As answer, she let the symbol on her brow shine bright, now a moon half-waned, much like the moon in the sky now. After a moment, the wise man said, “I understand. I will train another. Good luck.” She wished him good luck as well, and he left. (She never saw him again; when she visited the village in secret ten years later, she found he had died recently, and his apprentice had taken over his duties. A few days later, she paid another visit in the night, leaving a scroll upon which she had inscribed a great deal of advice for the new wise man.)

At midnight, Stormtalon came to her again, explaining that he had caused the scarcity of food, and he was the first two she had come across in disguise to test her. She had passed her trial, and it was time to come with him. They made great haste, and reached the Bordermarches before the No Moon. There, he inscribed her with her own moonsilver tattoos, and watched approvingly as she took her spirit shape, that of the raven she had seen before (though lacking the ancient eyes, which could only be conferred by millenia of experience), for the first time.

She accompanied Stormtalon for the better part of the next fifteen years; he spent a fair amount of time wandering, but spent most of his days in the town of Talon’s Grip. He explained that he was trying to groom Talon’s Grip a certain way, to see if it could be done. He taught her of the Solar Exalts, explaining that a god called the Unconquered Sun had given them the right to reign over Creation, and that he was trying to develop a way for them to do it without causing Creation to give in to any of the weaknesses that normally plagued civilization after a time. Though he fostered Talon’s Grip, he also took care of the surrounding barbarian tribes, provoking them into frequent assaults. Talon’s Grip fought off each one, even managing to control and defend farmland and pastureland enough to sustain food despite the poor hunting in the area. Since they had to fight constantly for it, and it gave the barbarian tribes another reason to attack, Stormtalon saw nothing wrong with it. Indeed, his vision was that of a hundred nations across Creation, constantly fighting for resources, with the Solar Exalts to serve as referees as much as rulers. Corva was quickly persuaded of the correctness of this, making her one of the few Lunars to consider herself a member of both the Sun King Seneschals and the Winding Path.

For some time, things progressed smoothly. Corva, when she wasn’t on a sacred hunt which required her by necessity to travel far or sampling any of Talon’s Grip’s wide variety of exotic and wonderful meals unavailable elsewhere, was usually with Stormtalon. He taught her combat (Or tried to, at any rate; she preferred seeking diplomatic solutions whenever possible), and tutored her in the ways of sorcery. She proved as excellent at learning under his mentoring as she had under the wise man’s, and as her thirty-second year neared, he sent her into the Deep Wyld, with instructions not to return until she was a sorcerer or had accepted that she wouldn’t become one.

Corva doesn’t remember most of her Spirit Quest. Though she recieves the occasional horrifying dream that thankfully fades beyond recall by the time her eyes open, only two details remain clear in her mind. First, the constant, never-ending, raw terror that she seemed to feel every moment of every day. Second, when… It finally appeared before her. She is unsure what It was, but It asked her only one question: “What do you have to offer?” Her mind raced. She had not been warned of this, had not expected it. She does not know why, but the first thing she thought of was the fine food that Talon’s Grip was famous for, and the fine crops and livestock that enabled such wonderful meals. At that point, It left. Corva doesn’t remember the trip back, either. Only waking up back in Talon’s Grip, heavily bandaged, with a broken arm, nothing more than skin and bones, and feverish. Stormtalon told her that she had returned in such a state, passing out the moment she made it into the town. And, even in her state of unconsciousness and delerium, she had refused all food. She knew why, and was able to tell him. She had gained the gift of sorcery, but she had lost the gift of civilization; she would never be able to eat any food tamed by the hands of man again.

For a few years, Corva got by on what sparse food she could gather from the wilds around Talon’s Grip, and honed her archery skills so as to be able to take shots at what little prey as showed itself. She didn’t spend nearly as much time with Stormtalon, now; she had to spend most of her time hunting for food, and it wasn’t often that Stormtalon had both the time and the ability to find her. Fortunately, he had both when a strange scent had caught her attention. She wasn’t sure how exactly to describe it, other than that she felt powerfully drawn to it. Stormtalon told her that, although they had been gone for the longest time, the Solar Exalts were returning; perhaps her Exalt had emerged at long last. She left immediately, with little more than a few basic supplies and Stormtalon’s parting gift, a huge bow of moonsilver dating back to the Old Realm.

She went to the Southeast, grateful for the much easier hunting she found in new lands. As the year came to a close, she knew she was close; the scent of her Solar mate seemed to permeate every little thing, and she couldn’t stop thinking about how their first meeting might go. (There was another reason; she had decided some time back that her Solar mate would be her first mate, if at all possible; she was very curious about what her first time would feel like, although she was certain “wonderful” would be a good starting point if the sounds of passion she occasionally overheard were any clue.) And true enough, she found him…

The Wanderer in Shadowed Hearts, an Abyssal of ill repute and no small power, had known Corva was coming for some time; indeed, he had every intention of seducing her, and then making her his slave, with no purpose other than his amusement. She ran into him on the third day of Calibration, while wandering through a wooded patch. The first thing she noted was that he felt terribly wrong, somehow, and yet so very right at the same time. He gestured for her to come closer, but she instead found herself backing against a tree. He was undeterred, and instead went to her, going about his plans. Her fear and disgust grew, but unfortunately, so did her lust for the white-haired, handsome man before her. She was just about to give in, when her fear and disgust finally managed to win, and she pushed aside and ran as fast as she could. He didn’t pursue; he’d have her soon enough.

Corva didn’t stop running for nearly a full day, and even then it was because she had tripped over a root. She remained where she had fallen, sobbing to herself, still held in the grip of that terrible passion. When she finally managed to regain control of herself, she came to the conclusion that something must have twisted and corrupted her mate. She resolved to find a way to return him to the way he should be.

Personality: Coming later. I just typed up 2,200 words of backstory, damn it.

Appearance: See personality.