On The Ravens
Everybody wants something. Most will go on wanting. For those willing to sacrifice for it... there's the Ravens.
In the autumn of 847 IE, the district of Crow's Foot was rocked by war. The Crows, who had enjoyed dominance in the district for years, found their position weakened - and their leadership destablized - by the death of Roric, the man who had led them to prominence. The affluent Red Sashes and proletarian Lampblacks, long chafing under the yoke of the Crows, took advantage, disregarding the new ward boss, Lyssa, and declaring themselves each the new masters of Crow's Foot.
The war between the three gangs went largely disregarded by the Bluecoats, who were already content to simply take the bribes of the Crows and ignore the district, and now avoided it in the interests of not finding themselves in the middle of a shootout or stabbing spree. Utterly disregarding the people they'd rule over, the gangs unleashed chaos, leaving the citizenry in mortal peril and terror. Some debated over which gang may be the least unpleasant to pay off, but all agreed: the sooner the war ended, the better.
Amancio, professional practicioner of law in the district and respected broker and adjudicator among the underclasses and criminals, sought to bring an end to the conflict. When it became clear that such an end would not come through his usual services and arbitrations, he looked to other means, seeking with his long reach a band of skilled persons who might find profit from intervening by more direct means
What he found were a set of promising mercenaries, each of which lacked the skills to handle the matter alone, but together, showed much potential.
Brought together by circumstance and shared profit, the "Northcrow Rookery" was born, establishing themselves a watch tower on one of the Old Walls which had been forgotten by all but a few, including Amancio. Hidden thus, and motivated by the promise of rewards in coin and influence, they set to work manipulating all sides, procuring information and deceiving the gangs into making the moves they had calculated. At last, after a campaign of disinformation, betrayal, kidnapping, theiving, and heretical ritual, the war culminated in a massacre in the tunnels beneath the city, where the fractious remains of the Crows had hidden themselves, only to have their secrets pried from them by the ghost of Roric himself - raised and questioned by our scoundrels.
With the Crows eradicated and the Lampblacks broken by their campaign, the Red Sashes assumed mastery of Crow's Foot - and the Northcrow Rookery set its sights higher, beyond the limits of Crow's Foot, upon the whole of the city. Thus, the Duskwall Ravens were born. The height of their ambition yet to be defined, the limits of their skills yet to be tested.
Caaro Daava
The Crownless Prince, Heir of a Broken Dynasty.
The face of the Ravens, Caaro Daava is an Islander belonging to a prestigious and wealthy fleet-dynasty of Islander merchants. Son of the Prince-Admiral, and Captain of the fleet's flagship, Caaro was destined to take command of the enterprise and live a life at sea, surrounded by his clan and enjoying the profits brought by lucrative trade deals and the sheer volume of goods moved.
Then, as it often does, the Void Sea rewrote everything. A rogue Leviathan, far from the usual spawning grounds, emerged along the shipping lane of the fleet just as it was passing through. The Leviathan delivered slaughter and carnage on the woefully unprepared fleet; its guns, ready for pirates, had nearly no impact on the immortal monstrosity. The fleet was annihilated, its cargo lost, and Caaro's family was killed, lost, scattered, and disgraced.
Sailing to Doskvol with a damaged ship, Caaro was left with his mother, siblings, a few cousins, and a disabled father. No ships, no cargo, no money, no credit, no way home, no way out, no income, nothing. Selling his own and last ship and using the proceeds to acquire a rundown townhouse for his kin, as well as establishing a small fund to provide necessities, Caaro was forced to quickly accept that the burden had fallen upon him to provide more than this stop-gap measure. His cousins and siblings began finding work in poorly paying positions in factories and as servants, barely breaking even, and his father's condition did not improve.
Accepting that their destiny as traders had been erased, Caaro set out to begin writing a new destiny: one where the Daava family made Doskvol their new home, and taught it to respect their name the way the Islands once did. Dressed in used finery and constantly soaking himself in a light layer of alcohol, Caaro carries the weight of a dynasty upon his shoulders. Time will tell if he will lift it up or be broken beneath it.
Drav Boden
The Bloodsoaked War-hero, Killer for a Distant Throne.
The muscle of the Ravens, Drav Boden hails from the windy steppes of Severos, where he grew up beyond the lightning barriers of the cities among the free-tribes. A warrior trained in the spilling of blood and hunting of ghosts, Drav left his tribe to join urban society after his coming of age ceremony. Intending to return to his tribe with wealth made as a mercenary, and raise his family to a higher status, Drav signed on to fight in the Unity War in Skovlan, leaving to fight in the bitter final years of the conflict.
While on the northern isle, Drav distinguished himself as a solider, earning several commendations and bonus commissions from the Imperial military for his valorous service, meritorious contributions, and loyal devotion to the Empire. In truth, he was rewarded greatly and given much prestige as pay-off for assisting and facilitating in the massacre of Skov civilians as part of the Imperium's doctrine of total war in the final stage of the conflict. Convinced it was an honorable tactic to bring the war swiftly to a close, Drav came to realize that the massacres were not strategically motivated, but acts of terror meant to subdue to the Skovs into surrender. The realization came as he was offered an officer's commission with generous pay and bountiful benefits - an offer he turned down.
Filled with shame for the atrocities he had partaken in, Drav imposed an exile upon himself, leaving most of his war-pay in Skovlan with rebuilding funds. Unable to return home with such shame and poverty, and unable to stay in the place of his disgrace, Drav used the last of his pay to book a room on a steamer bound for Doskvol. Now, he works to regain his honor and find some kind of absolution, and to earn a new fortune to bring to his tribe, should be finally find himself worthy of returning home.
Armed with a Severosi horse-sword and a strength honed over a lifetime, Drav's raw physical power has proven able to remove obstacles with shear brute force, and even gangs of foes struggle to overcome him. Burying his shame within stoic coldness and burning sadomasochism, Drav has no compunctions against violence when it is needed, and finds his peace beating others, and being beaten, in the fighting pits around the city.
Arlyn vos Kardera
The Prodigal Princess, Witch of the Empty Gutters.
The sorcerous soul of the Ravens, Arlyn hails from the House Kardera, which has no presence in Duskwall. It is a noble house from the southern Akorosi continent, with cadet branches across the cities there, and one recent dynastic growth in Iruvia. The main line of the dynasty commands an impressive array of interior mining colonies, shipping lanes, and business interests, all centered in the Imperial City, where they spend time split between managing their impressive demesne and attending the Immortal Emperor's court. To carry the name 'vos Kardera' is to belong to this line, this trunk of a vast, wealthy, powerful tree. Not all who carry it wield such power; lesser cousins, third-sons of fourth-sons, and other distant kin with more weight in their name than anything else they own, all abound.
Arlyn vos Kardera is no third-son of a fourth-son. Arlyn vos Kardera is the first daughter of the first son of the dynasty, the Duke Kardera, chief of their line and direct vassal of His Eternal Majesty. From the moment she was born, Arlyn was destined to rise to the greatest heights achievable in Imperial society, at the very hand of the Emperor. Nothing was or would be denied to her, nothing beyond her reach, no price too high, nothing short of the very Enduring Throne itself would supercede her.
It was more than any could hope for. It was enough for her. But then came the whispers from the North.
Arlyn's affinity for the ghost field and the occult was viewed as a boon by her family. She was trained in magic, educated in its history, theory, application. She was meant to use it to advance herself and her family. She was meant to do many things. But as the whispers came to her, at first in dreams, and then in waking life, such expectations felt emptier and emptier. Gold, silver, wine, meat, power, control, it all felt emptier and emptier. She realized that nothing of the mortal, fleshy world her family controlled had any real weight, any real meaning to it. There was something greater still, out there. Something more real, more beautiful, in the North.
One storming night, the future duchess' chambers were found empty. Nothing was taken. No money, no jewels, not even clothes. But a single note was left, in Arlyn's handwriting, which read: 'I chose this.'
Searches for her failed. The entire Imperial City could not find her. With witchcraft she had learned from powers her family knew nothing about, she had left the lightning barriers of the city, and boarded the Rail. She did not leave it until it reached its northernmost destination: Gaddoc Station, Duskwall.
Armed only with sorcery and curiosity (and several knives), Arlyn has made a name for herself as a friend to storms and spirits, though none in Duskwall know her true provenance. Her work as a Whisper contents her, feeds her, shelters her, but the pay is only secondary: the chance to be in the North, to meet with the Reconciled spirits, to study with the most daring scholars of the Imperium, are her true rewards.
Skannon Skora
The Forsaken Soldier, Ranger of a Lost War.
The eyes of the Ravens, Skannon and his ghost-hawk, Sable, come to Doskvol from Skovlan. The scion of a long line of ancient Skov mystics, Skannon was raised in the midst of the Unity War, meant from a young age to serve his King and Queen. At the age of 14, he was enlisted into the Royal Army as a junior officer, assisting with noncombat duties. At age 16, he began training for combat, and at 18, was deployed as an occult attaché to the 7th Deathlands Rangers. By 20, he had been made a full Ranger, and a designated marksman. Scouting out and sabotaging Imperial efforts in the deathlands, and assisting the main forces in navigating the inhospitable terrain with reduced attrition, Skannon's contributions to the war efforts promised him a career as an officer, and a good future for his family.
Then, the King and Queen of Skovlan were assassinated. The capital was sacked. The army was sent into disarray, and 36 years of resistance collapsed. The 7th Rangers vowed to continue the fight, shifting from soldiers to insurgents. Skannon was asked to join them. He was offered a place with his family.
Instead, he simply went to the nearest port, boarded a ship, and left. The war was over. The army was gone. After 21 years of being nothing but a weapon to be wielded by his King, his Nation, his Family, only for it to mean nothing in the end, there was nothing left of meaning to him in Skovlan. Forswearing his home, and its traditions, he sailed to Duskwall, and began to seek out opportunities for trained hunters and killers of men such as himself.
Bound by some unknowable force - be it magic, honor, or trauma - Skannon has never revealed his flesh in front of another since leaving Skovlan. To this day, he still wears the thick duster and masked helmet of the Deathlands Rangers. The only indication of a human within his vestments are the faint glowing eyes which burn whenever he draws upon his connection with Sable.
Their Allies
Amancio
Their Enemies
The Red Sashes
Their Escapades
Gallery
