The life of Shi'nyrr Maeath: Endangered Bard

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The life of Shi'nyrr Maeath: Endangered Bard

Postby Major Maxillary on Wed Aug 12, 2009 4:25 am

this is first draft squeezed out to keep myself awake and to work out the backstory of a character I'm running in a D&D game. because I lurve fluff.


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Merchant stands lined the crowded streets of Lith My’athar’s market district. Amid the bustling crowd two young drow bards had set up next to a fruit stand; an arrangement that was working very well for the fruit salesman. Shi'nyrr Maeath was the youngest of eight daughters, and had little chance of inheriting anything from her mother. To make her fortune in the Underdark she turned to entertainment, and today, thanks in part to the haunting melodies of her handsome musician, Jarfein Godetlar, her money sack was already half full by noon.


The day was coming to an end and the two bards had retired to a secure spot to count and divide their ample rewards. “Seven hundred, Jarfein! Can you believe it?” exclaimed Shi'nyrr, barely containing her enthusiasm. “That’s the most we’ve ever made, miss!” replied the male. The two had become somewhat reliant on each other over their short time as a duet. Shi'nyrr’s talent for storytelling and her superb singing voice was complimented by Jarfein’s songwriting and musical genius. “twenty-eight… twenty-nine, one hundred and thirty gold for my handsome musician!” Shi'nyrr said with a wink as she dropped the last of Jarfein’s share into his purse.

“Thank you, miss! You can’t imagine how much this will help me!” Jarfein said with his trademark sincerity.

“Only the best for my favorite musician!” Shi'nyrr retorted. She didn’t actually care much for him; he was pretty, true, had a natural affinity for songwriting, and could play any instrument he was given intuitively as if he had practiced it his entire life, though he probably had. The fellow was about as dull as they came. Outside of music he was clumsy, drab, completely uninteresting, and a terrible lover. Little more than something pretty to watch as he played his wonderful music.

The two were in high spirits as they left the secluded alleyway, but Shi'nyrr, being your average drow, knew better than to let her guard down. A little caution and a quick hand had always proven invaluable against the dozens of muggers and other folks who might have less-than-amicable intentions toward her. As the slightly shimmering dagger shot out from the doorway they were passing, tonight was looking to be just another night in Lith My’athar.


Shi'nyrr masterfully dodged the strike as she shoved Jarfein out of the way; the poor lad was useless in a fight. As she drew her dirk she finally caught sight of her attacker, and immediately knew this was no simple robbery. This fellow was silent, and ignored everything but Shi'nyrr, his strikes clean and precise with no unnecessary movement. He didn’t want Shi'nyrr’s gold or dignity; he wanted her life! The realization washed over the young drow like a bucket of water, and Shi'nyrr knew she wasn’t going to be able to talk or bluff her way out of this fight. As she narrowly avoided another quick slice to her face Shi’nyrr felt someone grab her from behind. As her assassin’s accomplice pulled her head back, proffering her throat to the thirsty dagger, she thought to herself “so this is how I die.”


“NO!” Jarfein exclaimed as he threw himself into Shi'nyrr and the accomplice. The assassin’s dagger opened up a clean gash across Jarfein’s back as the three fell to the ground. Shi’nyrr thrust her newly freed dagger hand between her thighs and was rewarded by the squeal of the male holding her as the razor-sharp blade went deep into his groin, bisecting one of the tender glands by wonderful chance, forcing the male to release her. Shi’nyrr quickly rolled to her feet as her original attacker thrust again. This time, though, she was unable to evade the blow completely, and the keen, enchanted dagger neatly sliced off the woman’s nose.

Shi’nyrr recoiled and screamed as much out of anger as pain. She realized all too late that she had lost the initiative and the assassin thrust again, this time there would have been no dodging. The dagger slid right between the ribs and pierced the heart of Shi’nyrr’s musical companion, who had once again shielded her from her assailant. Shi’nyrr used the fleeting moment her favorite musician bought her, and as Jarfein’s limp frame slumped to the ground she grabbed the assassin’s wrist and quickly sliced his belly open, spilling his entrails onto the street. The male cried out, finally dropping his dagger in a feeble attempt to hold his guts in. He hardly noticed when Shi’nyrr slit his throat.

With the fight all but over Shi’nyrr took quick stock of her surroundings, making certain there would be no more attackers. As she looked down at Jarfein’s lifeless body, she realized he no longer needed his share of the day’s earnings. She scooped up his coin purse before making best speed to the safest place in the Underdark; the Maeath family townhouse.
The American dream is to prosper by your chosen means, make your own decisions independent from some asshole in a fancy building. to live, love, and die by your own choices and passions.

and to tell the British royalty to eat a bag of dicks.
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Re: The life of Shi'nyrr Maeath: Endangered Bard

Postby Aeridus on Wed Aug 12, 2009 8:10 pm

Very nice! :D Though at first I thought the topic title read: Endangered Beard.
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Re: The life of Shi'nyrr Maeath: Endangered Bard

Postby Major Maxillary on Thu Aug 13, 2009 6:08 am

The family townhouse was completely silent as Shi’nyrr arrived at the rear door. She knew better than to betray her whereabouts to any possible observers, the rear entrance was used by the household slaves, and was discreetly out of the way of prying eyes to spare any upstanding drow the indignity of sharing a street with common slaves. The benefit to this arrangement was Shi’nyrr was able to enter her home completely unnoticed.

Once through the door she found herself in the slave’s partition; a small hallway with doors leading to the three slave quarters, kitchen, and, if Shi’nyrr remembered correctly, the middle door on the right lead to the main hall. As she opened the door she found that she was completely wrong. This was the door to one of the slaves’ rooms. The small, cramped bedchamber was lined with bunks three beds high, two to a wall with the exception of the wall that possessed the entrance, where only one was present. Being late the pitiful slaves were fast asleep. Shi’nyrr was barely able to contain her disgust as she woke the nearest slave, a human that she had seen quite frequently but never bothered to learn the name of. The slave woke to a start.

“Who’s there?” the young man asked.

“which door leads to the main hall, slave?” Shi’nyrr demanded.

Knowing the voices of all of his masters, the slave jumped out of his bed, striking his head on the frame and almost knocking Shi’nyrr over.

“Be careful, you idiot!” Shi’nyrr rasped, noticeably struggling to keep her voice low as the slave threw himself to the floor in front of her.

“Forgive my foolishness, my lady! My pitiful eyes cannot see where yours can so grea-” the slave began before being quietly stifled by his mistress, the poor fellow squealed as Shi’nyrr hefted him up by his jawbone.

“I have no time for your groveling. The entire family is in danger and I need you to show me to the main hall. Do it now.” Shi’nyrr said with every bit of command presence she could muster. She saw the man’s eyes widen as he realized the magnitude of what was being said to him.

“R-right this way, my lady.” the man stammered as he began to move out the door into the slaves’ hall. As it turned out the door to the main hall was directly across the hallway. Shi’nyrr didn’t have the time to appreciate the humor of the situation, but resolved to laugh about it when there was no longer the possibility of being murdered.

“Will there be anything else, my lady?” the slave inquired.

“Yes, stay close, I’ll need a shield.” Shi’nyrr said, and in light of the main hall’s candles the man choked back his shock as he saw Shi’nyrr’s injury for the first time.

“my lady, your nose…” the man said.

“Irrelevant, slave. Keep up!” Shi’nyrr said as she pulled her slave through the door and made her way through the house, holding her dirk in her right hand as she pulled along the slave with her left, ready to shove him onto the first dagger she saw.


The first person she needed to see was her mother. Felyneari Maeath was the matron mother, her word was law within the Maeath family, and she was the one who needed to be warned the most. As she made her way through the townhouse, she passed the corpses of the house guards, and saw visible signs of magic use, though she saw none of the attackers. Shi’nyrr hoped that the assassins simply took their dead with them. Shi’nyrr finally arrived at her mother’s chamber, and entered with utmost caution; not only could there have been an assassin waiting for her, but to disturb her resting mother was never a safe act. Once inside Shi’nyrr saw her mother’s favorite consort, Elaugnet Freurden, kneeling over her mother’s motionless body, hovering his hands over a the deep gash on her throat. The old male finally finished his rituals and rose to his feet, completely giving up on reviving his mistress. The old Drow mage looked over to Shi’nyrr with great relief in his eyes. Without a word he walked over to Shi’nyrr and attempted to heal her nose, but similarly meeting failure. He let out a labored sigh of frustration.

“I’m pleased to see at least one of the house’s children might survive the night.” Elaugnet said, his voice quivering. It was obvious the old Mage had done all he could to protect Shi’nyrr’s mother and siblings in the fight that must have been quite taxing on his abilities, Shi’nyrr even noticed the shaft of an arrow poking out from the old mage’s side. “Why can’t you heal me,” Shi’nyrr began, “or my mother?” she finished after a short pause.

“The weapons your attackers used must have been enchanted to make healing magic ineffective. Fortunately, they must not have expected their victims to avoid mortal blows like you obviously did.” Elaugnet said, “Thankfully, I also know how to heal injuries without magic, though your nose will likely never be restored, my lady.”

“at this point I should just be glad I’m still alive, how many guards are left?” Shi’nyrr said.

“Not enough to protect you, my lady.” Elaugnet lamented as he led her into his chamber, conveniently attached to that of his late mistress, “I fear that even though you live, your attackers will return to finish their work.” The old mage said as he removed a small bundle of gauze and bandages from one of his many drawers. Shi’nyrr reflected on this information as she carefully weighed her options in her mind while Elaugnet cleaned and bandaged her wound.

“If this is true then there isn’t a moment to lose.” Shi’nyrr began, “If I am to survive, and have any hope of besting my enemies, I’ll need to make for a more defensible location while I gather more useful agents to discover and exact revenge on those responsible for this.”

“A truly wise choice, my lady. But where do you plan to go? Where would you be safe from your attackers?” Elaugnet asked.

“I have some ideas,” Shi’nyrr mused, “but we will need to take some precautions. These assassins will likely be expecting me to flee the city, and they will attack without hesitation should they find me. The best course of action, then, is to deceive my pursuers into following a false trail while I make my way to safety.”

“You propose a decoy, my lady. It could be done easily enough with an illusion spell,” Elaugnet proposed.
“Excellent, the only question now, is who to take my place.” Shi’nyrr said. She looked to her left, and remembered the slave that she was still holding tight.


The three remaining guards were assembled in the Matron Mother’s chamber, Elaugnet stood before them, with Shi’nyrr beside him.

“While I remain here to keep up appearances, you three shall take Our new Matron Mother to Ust Natha, where she will try to start anew. I needn’t say that it falls to you ensure her safety at all costs.”, Elaugnet said. The three steely-eyed swordsmen were some of the most faithful male servants of the Maeath family, and would not falter. “You have my word, Elaugnet, that so long as I live, no harm shall come to our Lady.” Imaufein Aleanlyl vowed. He was the senior of the three, and one of the finest of the family’s guards. shi‘nyrr had always had fought her sisters over him, and lost, many times. The small party quietly left through the slave’s entrance, and cautiously made their way out of the city.


Back in the Matron mother’s chamber, the real Shi’nyrr stepped out from Elaugnet’s chamber. “shame to throw away a good soldier like that one.” Shi’nyrr said, “Necessary, but a shame.”

“I would not doubt your double will reach his destination with Imaufein watching over him.” Elaugnet said.

“I should hope so,” Shi’nyrr replied, “the longer my ruse is maintained, the more time I have to prepare and the farther I can get from here. I‘ve never left this city, Would you help me prepare?”

“Certainly, my lady.” Elaugnet said. The old mage had served the Maeath family faithfully for almost five hundred years as house mage, and even sired all eight of Felyneari Maeath’s daughters. He never would have imagined that, as he stepped into the hallway, that he would find Shi’nyrr’s dirk stuck into his back. The long, slender blade slid deep into his chest. He hadn’t even time to scream as the knife pierced his heart. With one quick stirring motion the blade slid free and Elaugnet Freurden slumped unceremoniously to the floor. Shi’nyrr knew better than to leave loose ends, and she wanted fewest number of those privy to her plans as possible. Wiping the blood from her dirk as she went to the storeroom she caught sight of the Corpse of the house’s Weapons Master, Phyxton Baenurden. He seemed to have fallen from several arrows and one large blow to the head which crushed his skull. Shi’nyrr saw the seasoned warrior’s matching, jeweled scimitars still clutched in his hands. She thought to take them, but decided that if they didn’t do Phyxton any good, they’d merely be dead weight for the diminutive bard.


Shi’nyrr found few useful supplies in the townhouse. An old haversack and some waterskins were taken from the storeroom, the pantry mostly contained foodstuffs that would be spoiled within the week, save for some bread and spider jerky, a bar of soap from the water closet, and she took the best fitting pair of sturdy boots from a guard’s corpse. None of this would be especially helpful, but it would hopefully serve to keep her alive and sane on her travels.
The American dream is to prosper by your chosen means, make your own decisions independent from some asshole in a fancy building. to live, love, and die by your own choices and passions.

and to tell the British royalty to eat a bag of dicks.
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