Riven Trimak

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Riven Trimak
Riven Trimak
Riven Try-mack
Created by Dan
Gender Male
Occupation Asha'man of the Blue Ajah
Affiliation The Grey Tower
Spouse Serrah Trimak
Nationality Andoran
Weapon Skills
  • Sword ✦✦✦✦✦
  • Unarmed ✦✦
OP Strength 9.0
Affinities Earth, Air, Fire, Spirit, Water

Riven Trimak is an Andoran Blue Oathsworn Asha'man of the Grey Tower.


Riven is a 6", emotionless swordsman with piercing grey eyes, short dark hair, and a heron tatoo on the left side of his chest. His body is in great physical shape, for a man approaching a century of life.

His body holds the scars of many battles, his eyes hold a great many emotional scars. His hands are a bit twitchy at times, the price for a life time of arthritis, but he is well in control of his affliction


Does a dead body make a sound when it hit's the ground, if there are none to hear it? The question echoed within what was left of his mind, a question once posed by the same person who had given him his tainted blade, the long and so ever slightly curved tool of death that hung at his side.

It was strange, every time he killed in the deep of the night, he remembered that exact question, the moment the body thumped onto the ground. Was he alive? Did he truly hear the sound? He was tainted by the Lord of the Grave's touch, he knew that, did it mean he was dead, or alive?

He did not even need a physical weapon to kill so close to this Tower. If he used bare slivers of Saidin, he could easily stab hearts with daggers of air. These guards were nothing, they did not wear mail or plate, simply flashy clothing representing their employer, a successful merchant from the east who though to make a new name for himself in a new city. A merchant who once worked for the Great Lord, who believed the lie called redemption.

This Tower's True Ajah had quickly decided to have the merchant eliminated, being in such a haste they had not given much detail to the order. They had not asked for discretion, so the job would clearly show their mistake. Several people dead from mysterious wounds to the heart, that would cause an uproar of rumors.

As he killed guards one by one, the shattered mind of Ophan recalled another world, one where he was truly powerful, nearly as feared as the chosen, yet in this world, as he came to learn, he was nearly nothing. His taint, and his pride had marked him as a useless tool to the Dark One, a tool that had to work hard to find some meaning, to find himself back into the influence of the Great Lord. Each kill brought him closer to that goal.

Bodies made quite a different sound when they hit wooden floors, or so he thought as more bodies crumpled. Why did he simply not bury this place deep within the ground? He had the power! Then again, why would he? He did not truly know anymore.

The job had eventually caused an uproar, for many servants were now beginning to exit via their own designated entrances, along with guards going upwards, and not outwards, clearly going to protect their employer. Did they not know who they faced? Their deaths were easy for Ophan, easy and quick. As their bodies fell, he realized that he was most likely using enough Saidin to alert the Tower proper, he had to make it quick.

Walking over the bodies splayed all over the stairs, it did not take Ophan long to find the merchant's room, the target cowering in a corner, barely able to hold onto a sword in shaking hands. He had wasted enough time, he would waste no more. Threading several strands of air around the man's throat, Ophan willed them to snap into place, decapitating the man, birthing a slight shower of crimson rain.

He suspected he was running out of time, so he decided it was time to leave. he ran to the stairs, jumped down and smoothly hit the ground, rolling over his shoulder and back onto his feet. The door was too risky to use, so he had found a window facing the rear of he house. Ever fearless, He leaped through a nearby window, his mask protecting his face.

As soon as he found himself under the dark sky, he came face to face with the strangest sight he had ever seen.

While he was wearing dark clothing, and a dark mask, he faced an entity much like himself, yet radiating a soft light. It was said that the dead walk the land in certain places, the Great lord clearly taunting the Creator, perhaps he was taunting the man who they called Ophan?

For a moment, a long moment, the light of the quarter moon disappeared, along with all sound. In that moment, he had only been aware of himself, and the strange entity he faced. Did he fall so far, that the Great Lord would mock him?

"My Lord..." Was the last sound Ophan ever made, the strange entity the last sight he had ever seen.

While some nights told dark tales of death and chaos, some days told tales of happiness, hope, renewal.

"Riven..." a soft voice said, as sunlight shined upon his sleeping face. The voice was familiar, so very familiar, yet from where? As he opened his eyes, he saw the sun shining through a window with blue curtains, shining on a face he did know.

"Crysthia?" It took a moment for his eyes to truly see her, yet before he could comment on the strange shawl gracing her shoulders, his pupils dilated, in remembrance of another memory. The scarred glare of the Reaper of the Yards. In a shocked whisper, he said; "I remember dying..."

Career History

  • Soldier (2006)
  • Dedicated
  • Council of Youth
  • Asha'man of the Blue Ajah (29 March 2007)
  • Sitter of the Blue Ajah
  • Sitter of the Blue Ajah (second term)
  • Sitter of the Blue Ajah (third term)
  • First Selector of the Blue Ajah (7 September 2007)
  • Keeper of the Archives (7 August 2012)
  • M'Hael (1 May 2014)