Ser Rivienne Renard

Knight Errant


Halestorm - Darkness Always Wins

About

  1. Race: Wildwood Elezen

  2. Height: 6'0"

  3. Build: Athletic

  4. Hair: Soft black with wine-red tips

  5. Eyes: Violet

  6. General Description: This Elezen is pretty, as are most of her race, though not exceedingly so. She keeps her hair in a short mop, taking advantage of its natural texture to appear with a perpetually attractive bed-head. Piercing violet eyes stare out at the world from beneath straight, heavy brows. Her small, narrow nose, full lips, and sharply-pointed ears give her an almost fae appearance.

  7. Favorite Food: Aldgoat Steak, rare, with a steaming baked popoto...yeah, that's the way.

  8. Favorite Drink: Black Coffee.

  9. Likes: A hot meal on a cold winter day, physical activity of almost any sort, an afternoon nap during a rainstorm.

  10. Dislikes: People who aren't genuine, any sort of injustice, violence against women and children. Also, if you patronize her you might regret it.

Biography

I knew the truth.I knew before I met Her. Before I met Them. Before I was even ready to acknowledge the facts...I knew.All my life I had a recurring dream. A frozen field, whereupon ancient Knights and their ancient King stood, entreating with a Dragon. That alone would've had me tossed off Witchdrop for Heresy, of course, this I knew even as a child. So I never spoke of it. But I saw the Knights and the King set upon the dragon. I saw them tear out her eyes. I saw them feast on her power.Long before the Lady Ysayle ever confirmed the dark past of my homeland...I knew.I denied it, of course, tamping the thoughts unbidden down as quickly as they arose. Survival required conformity, at least on the outside. My life...and the lives of those I would go on to protect...hung in the balance each time I had the dream. But I kept my secret. I never told a soul, not even my parents. I did what my instincts bade me, keeping the knowledge so deep in my heart an Inquisitor could not have forced it out of me. As soon as I was of age, I became a squire of the Knights Most Heavenly. I gave myself to the Fury.But I always knew.The only offspring of the last son of House Renard, I suppose my lot in life should have been marriage, children, bringing back the Glory of the house. But I couldn't bear the idea. Playing the good Lady while blood was shed by a tradition built on a foundation of lies. Knowing the truth altered me, somehow, made me feel one with the Fury, though not for the reasons the Holy Church would've liked.Though I kept my secret close, some nights, as I lay awake in my dark room, the truth would seep into my mind, roiling my thoughts. I felt the Fury touch my heart on those nights, when my anger was blacker than the gloom around me.Imagine, if you can, knowing your entire life, your culture, your faith, your very existence was based on a foundation of untruth and obfuscation. And yet you had to remain silent, to live the lie, to walk with the shame in your breast...I cannot tell you in words the depths of the pain, the anger, and yes, the hatred.Does it startle you to learn that a Warrior of Light knows the black stain of hate? I'm not proud of it...but it, too, was formative in its own way.It all coalesced, of course, shortly before the Thordan affair. I met what I thought was a reflection of the Fury herself...strangely, it turned out she was a reflection of me; a shadow-self if you will. Through her I learned the secret of channeling my rage into my arms, my shield, my sword. Using the anger, both blessing and curse, to power my attacks, bolster my defenses.When I met the Primal King, it was in the Fury's name that I struck, and I sometimes think by Her will I succeeded. She would not want Her children to believe in lies. And though I carry still more and more rage in my heart each day, I know that I must endure. I once believed that I was an instrument of the Fury herself.Now I know that I am the instrument of something far greater.Since the War, I've traveled extensively. My parents died of sickness shortly after the Congregation of the Knights Most Heavenly saw fit to tack that 'Ser' onto the front of my name. Rather than saddling myself with a husband and children, I rescinded my noble title, effectively terminating House Renard. The Lord Commander would not let me resign, however. I, along with several other Knights, was given dispensation to travel as an Adventurer. We remain Knights Errant, reporting back to Aymeric from abroad, aiding those in need.Together with diverse companions, some closer than others, I will continue to defend those who cannot defend themselves -- wherever the journey takes me.

Plot Hooks

Common

  1. Trained as a Temple Knight

  2. Not a fan of House Durendaire, and makes it known

  3. Pansexual, but prefers the company of women


Uncommon

  1. Daughter of a minor Ishgardian Noble

  2. Renounced her noble title

  3. Has a natural head for event planning, despite her Noble upbringing. It doesn't come up often in her current line of work.


Rare

  1. Sold her family home to House Haillenarte when she renounced her rank, vowing that "Durendaire will NEVER get his slimy hands on it."

  2. Driven by anger seemingly inspired by the Fury herself. Though she may seem affable enough, Rivi is seething with rage at almost all times. This is most notable when she's in a fight.

  3. Rivi's Echo only shows her the Past, what has come before. She will never have visions of possible futures, nor other places in the present. There may be an odd prophecy running around about that.


Want to know more? Let's RP!

Against the Winds

The morning sun's rays reflected off the island's uneven surface, warming the soil and lighting the field. A lone Roegadyn man, his crimson hair alight in the sun's rays, stood in the center of the field, waiting.Four identical men, each bearing the stamp of his sire, strode to the center, pausing a few fulms from their father, their jocular chatter at odds with the apparent solemnity of the occasion.A horn sounded, foreboding, from the east, as a ruby-armored dragonling winged to the soil, seemingly exiting the sun itself, to deposit its black-and-gold armored rider on the island. A swarthy Elezen disembarked, the dragonling briefly touching her shoulder with its muzzle before leaping aloft, seeking a spot above the field from which to enjoy the warm sun.She turned, then, this Lady-Knight, and the four smiled. Surely they four against one woman, no matter how skilled, was a foregone conclusion?The Knight paused, several steps away from the four and the red-haired man in the middle. She offered him a formal salute, her ruby weapon and shield, made seemingly from the same metal as the dragonling's armor, glittering in the sunlight."Nortwaen Rotrachsyn. Ostwaen Rotrachsyn. Sundwaen Rotrachsyn. Wistwaen Rotrachsyn." The red-haired man looked at the four younger. "You have been challenged to single combat by Ser Rivienne Renard of the Congregation of the Knights Most Heavenly, of our allies in Ishgard. The rules are simple. No death. The first to yield loses. Ser Rivienne has agreed that if she yields first, she will take the loss, whereas all four of you must yield to give her victory."He paused, waiting for acknowledgement from all concerned. Four identical heads nodded in unison at his gaze. He looked at the Knight, waited for her to acknowledge, and continued after her sharp, certain nod."In sight of Gods and Men, on this land in the bosom of Llymlaen, will honor decide the contest." Another horn, and Rotrach walked off the field, making for the hastily-erected stands nearby. The four faced the one. The Knight gave the same salute she gave previously.Suddenly, the blur of black-gold-ruby was on them, and the four scattered, uncertain suddenly, none of them prepared for the ferocity of the initial attack. They began to test her, but one at a time, the other three milling in confusion as she handily swatted the single attacker out of her way with the flat of her blade. For a few moments, at least, the end of the fight seemed imminent.Ser Rivienne heard the brave Ostwaen, always the most troublesome of the four, long before he managed to get close enough to attack her from behind. The flat of her blade delivered several slaps in quick succession to Sundwaen, who stood before her, and as he recoiled, she spun, using the edge of her shield to trip the rushing Ostwaen into the sand. When he landed on his face, a roar of laughter issued forth from the crowd. Now the four were angry.(WORK IN PROGRESS)