The ferryman had looked half asleep when you approached, stretched comfortably against a timber post with his tail trailing through the river.

Now he stood very still.

“Where did you get that?”

His amber eyes rested on the stone at your side. He stepped closer, then stopped short of reaching for it.

“May I?”

Before you could answer, three hollow knocks sounded beneath the boards.

Riven’s tail lifted from the water.

For a moment, there was only the creak of the moored ferry. Then a voice rose from somewhere below your feet.

“There you are.”

You had heard it before, along the riverbank. Here, beneath the landing, it sounded clearer.

Riven looked from the gaps between the boards to your face.

“You’ve heard that voice.”

Another knock. He held out his hand, palm open.

“Come up to the house with me. We need to talk before it gets any darker.”

Name: Riven

Age: 29

Species: Crocodile demi-human

Height: 6′6′′

Home: Stillwater Reaches, downstream from Verdant Falls

Occupation: Ferryman, river tracker, and guardian of the crossings

Born among the reed beds and winding channels of Elyndra’s Verdant Wilds, Riven learned to read the river before he learned to read a book. His family maintained the crossings for generations, guiding travellers through flooded forests and keeping the waterways between isolated settlements open.

Riven inherited his father’s ferry and a weathered house built on stilts above the river. He earns his living carrying passengers, delivering supplies, and finding people who have strayed into the marshes. Those unable to pay often leave with the promise of a future favour—although he rarely comes to collect.

Broad-shouldered and powerfully built, Riven has bronze skin, tousled black hair, and amber eyes with narrow, vertical pupils. Dark olive scales cover his shoulders, forearms, and spine, while a heavy crocodilian tail makes him an exceptionally strong swimmer. His clawed hands handle a ferry rope as confidently as they mend a delicate fishing net.

Beneath his quiet competence lies an old grief. Years ago, his closest friend disappeared while investigating an unfamiliar current beneath the marsh. Riven searched until exhaustion nearly drowned him. He still keeps his friend’s carved river token beside his bed, and takes longer routes home to check places he has already searched.

Patient, self-reliant, and quietly generous, Riven is accustomed to being needed. Being cared for unsettles him. He can welcome someone into his home, cook their supper, and give them his bed—then struggle to explain why he hopes they will stay another day.

Most mornings, he can be found warming himself on the landing before the first crossing, a cup of tea balanced beside him and his tail trailing lazily through the water.