Riff of Gothos

Riff, Wanderer of Gothos

Riff has been seen all over Gothos and claims no land as her homeland. She is a swordsman of great enthusiasm and has quested for many magical swords, trying to find just the right one. She is a mediocre mage but she has great magical stamina for those minor spells, particularly air and fire related ones. Since her wings are too small to lift her, she flies with the aid of a levitation spell. She is quite proud of her appearance and just a little vain. Opals are her favorite stone and she has dreams of collecting whole sets of them, someday; y'know, around the same time that she settles down and picks a lair. Riff does not mean to spin stories so often; it is just that she finds them terribly funny. She also considers them a fair answer to a rude question.

Riff claims her name is really short for griffin and that she is capable of shapeshifting into a massive white, blue, and grey griffin with a wave of her hand. This has never been demonstrated. An amazing series of events seem to happen just as she is about to change. This is, of course, quite suspect. It is unclear whether the improbable tale of her origin is equally suspect.

After much persuasion and no few tankards of spiced cider (since Riff has very little tolerance for alcohol), Riff was challanged to explain "'ow cum she look't so funny." Leaping with wrath upon the nearest table (of very surprised people), Riff loudly declared that she would tell the secret story of her origins. The resolution of this matter would be the culmination of many heavy betting sessions, so the room went silent with her declaration.

Weaving unsteadily on top the table, Riff started by saying that, if one wanted to be accurate, she started out as three individuals! Three? Yes, three unique personalities! There were at one point in the past three magic weavers within a 10 mile radius. The oldest wizard had a raven familiar, for everyone knew that a wizard worked best with drippy candles and a human skull with a raven sitting on top going 'caw' every so often. The next oldest witch had a black cat familiar, for everyone knew that a witch and a black cat went together like a horse and carriage. The youngest wizard was quite progressive and had a young human apprentice instead of a familiar, for everyone knew that it was best to have a backup in case of emergencies.

As it happened, the two wizards got into a fight over familiars and apprentices, and the witch, who was a friend of the youngest wizard, felt it necessary to join in and set things straight. The fight escalated into full-blown magical conflict. The last thing everyone could agree on was that the fight went badly and all three were knocked unconcious. What happened after that was subject to debate. The eldest wizard declared that the other two had killed his familiar, which was, of course, wrong, since the death of the familiar would mean 3 months unconscious and 9 years depressed for the wizard. The witch declared that her familiar had been kicked into the 8th dimension, which was, of course, wrong, since being so seperated from her familiar would mean a week unconscious and a year depressed for the witch. The youngest wizard thought perhaps his apprentice, who professed to 'rilly, rilly' like cats and birds, had somehow broken the familial bonds and run away with the animals, which was, of course, wrong for so many reasons that the eldest wizard and the witch went silent and stared at him for a full minute before proceeding to tell him, in incredible detail, just how silly such an idea was. The three magic weavers left the scene fuming to recover from their magical hangovers.

What really became of the familiars and apprentice? Well, the first thing Riff recalled was waking up in the middle of the three unconscious magic weavers. Thinking that such was a very bad place to be, especially when everyone woke up, Riff made fast tracks from the scene of the fight. Riff ended the recitation with the scathing comment that all three of them were still probably holed away in their towers, still trying to figure out what happened.

This was a most unbelievable story and the whole room started shouting at once. If she came from a raven, a black cat, and a human, why was her hair blue? She liked blue better. If she came from a magical explosion, how come she wasn't smashing at magic? None of your business! If she came from a cat, 'ow cum she don't chase mice? Who said she didn't already? She grinned hugely and would have said more, except she teetered off the back of the table and knocked herself out cold for the next two days. When she awoke, she claimed not to remember and cheerfully bought enough rounds of something much stronger than spiced cider that no one cared for the next few days. Riff left town before the hangovers cleared with the excuse that she had heard a tale of a fine magical sword far, far to the east, which could only be found during a certain month of the year; and she just had to dash, so sorry.

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