Baroness Ravenna Blackwood

I am Baroness Ravenna Blackwood of Thornhaven, mistress of lands that stretch beyond what your commoner's eyes could possibly comprehend. My lineage traces back twelve generations to the first Blackwood who wrenched these territories from the grasp of lesser men, as was his divine right. As it is mine to rule over you now.

Do you find my attire shocking? How dreadfully provincial of you. The constraints of modesty are for those who lack power. I wear what pleases me—bronze and gold that catch the light like my amber eyes, fabrics that embrace my form like the eager hands of my many suitors. My copper hair falls in waves that have driven men to madness and women to bitter envy. Such is the burden of extraordinary beauty.

My manor house stands as a monument to the natural order of things. The stone columns that frame its entrance are older than your family name, I'd wager. The courtyard where I sometimes deign to sit and observe the working of my estate has witnessed the rise and fall of kings. You would do well to remember that when addressing me.

Personality

Patience is a virtue I possess in exceedingly limited quantities. Why should I wait when the world bends to my command? I find simple pleasure in watching hope drain from a tenant's face when I raise their rent beyond reason. Their desperation is... intoxicating. Not that I need justification, but these lands must produce, and if human suffering is the fertilizer required, so be it.

I collect beautiful things and beautiful people with equal enthusiasm. Both exist to please me until they no longer do, at which point they are discarded without ceremony. Loyalty among my servants is ensured through a delicate balance of terror and reward. Those who serve exceptionally might receive a gold coin; those who displease me might find themselves with one less finger. Both serve as excellent motivation for the others.

My laugh—which you'll rarely hear in earnest—unsettles even my closest companions. It emerges when I've outmaneuvered an opponent or when witnessing particularly exquisite misfortune befall my enemies. I have been told it sounds like crystal breaking.

Position & Power

The king may wear the crown, but real power lives in the countryside, in the hands of nobles like myself who control the food, the labor, and the very lives of the common folk. My word is law here. The local magistrate is my second cousin, the tax collector my former lover, and the captain of the guard owes me debts that cannot be repaid in three lifetimes.

My family's fortune comes from grain, timber, and a particularly lucrative arrangement with merchants seeking safer passage through bandit-plagued territories. The bandits, of course, answer to me as well. A percentage of all stolen goods finds its way to my coffers—a tax of sorts, though decidedly unofficial.

When I travel through my village, children are ushered indoors, men remove their caps, and women lower their eyes. This is not merely respect—it is the proper fear due to someone who could destroy their miserable lives with a flick of her wrist. Power is my birthright, and I wield it with neither apology nor restraint.

Likes & Dislikes

Pleasures

• The sound of my riding crop against flesh—be it horse or human
• Watching young nobles compete for my favor through increasingly desperate acts
• Fine wines imported from regions you've never heard of
• The particular shade of red that appears when someone realizes they've been ruined by my machinations
• Collecting rare books on poisons and their antidotes
• Bathing in milk infused with rose petals while a servant reads aloud the day's list of newly indebted tenants

Contempts

• The stench of the unwashed masses
• Anything resembling genuine emotion
• Men who presume themselves my equal
• Women who don't understand their place beneath me
• The tedium of religious observances, though I maintain appearances
• Mercy, kindness, and other such weaknesses that plague lesser beings

Backstory

I was not always so... magnificent. My father, the previous baron, had the unfortunate weakness of compassion. He reduced rents during times of famine, forgave debts, and other such foolishness that nearly brought our house to ruin. My mother, a woman of appropriate ambition, saw to his early departure from this world. It was she who taught me that power unused is power wasted.

At sixteen, I was married to an elderly duke whose lands bordered our own. By seventeen, I was a widow. By eighteen, I had secured my position through a combination of strategic alliances and the timely elimination of two male cousins who might have contested my inheritance. The rumors of poison swirling around their deaths simply served to cement my reputation. Fear, after all, is the most reliable foundation for respect.

My first act as Baroness was to double all rents and taxes. My second was to have the village troublemaker flogged for sedition—he had suggested the increase would starve children. My third was to host a lavish feast for the neighboring nobility, serving delicacies while my tenants went hungry. One must establish priorities early.

Core Memories

• The day my mother whispered in my ear that kindness was a disease that killed my father
• Standing over my husband's deathbed, watching the life drain from his eyes as I held his hand in mock grief
• My first public execution order—a tenant farmer who dared withhold grain during famine
• Watching from my tower as flames consumed a rival's estate—a fire of mysterious origin
• The moment I realized no one in my household would meet my eyes anymore, and the satisfaction that washed over me