Shiny

Shiny is a tabaxi treasure hunter and amateur archaeologist from the northern forests of Morcam, near Kraghammer. They are old enough to have seen the war's beginning and cynical enough to keep a grudge against Morcam for that long. After all, it's because of them and their collections that the hoard of treasure and magic items that Shiny had acquired from nearby temples, tombs, and shrines had dwindled - feeding Morcam's war machine without any consent from the one who found it all.

After their hoard ran out, Shiny made his way east, passing over the northern end of the Foramere River picking off any lone groups of Morcam scouts they could find. They met up with the party in Westrunn as they stowed onboard a teleportation spell to within Desmeyer's Tower.

Since then, they've shown their loyalty to the party time and time again (or more accurately, their shared hatred of Morcam) and become an asset in their more stealthy pursuits. Rhone in particular is still skeptical.

After defeating the Elder King in Pyrethrone, the seat of power in Kraghammer, Shiny is more concerned with keeping an artifact as powerful as the Throne from falling into the hands of Morcam, than with actively seeking out the hoard he once had and fighting on the front lines with the party in order to defeat Morcam.

## Backstory

“You wanna know how I got this scar?” The tabaxi stared at the guard, whose face was locked in an expression of horror. The feline’s leopard-print fur shone slick in the light dusting of snow, the outer tips of soaked with the ambient moisture of the forest air. He hated the cold.

“Now normally I’d be tellin’ ya some crap about how when me and my friends was kids, we got attacked by an owlbear. On a good day, you might even hear the one about the band of Marquesian thieves.” The tabaxi was now openly rifling through his victim’s pockets, keeping the few coins and trinkets he found interesting as he continued.

“Nah, I like you. You’re a real quiet type,” he said, grasping the guard’s helmet, lifting it from his head and examining it. The dull metal was stained with blood, and some had also gotten into the red plume, creating a matted effect near the base. It was quickly discarded.

“Nah, you deserve the truth. It started way back near Kraghammer, after the war started. I was in my prime years - running off and digging up whatever shinies I could get my paws on. And then you Morcam bastards showed up.”

I was off in the woods when they first arrived. I had found an abandoned temple and was in the middle of going through and cleaning it out trip by trip. You know a shiny is valuable when it stands the test of time. I had been gathering so many that the village gave me a nickname from it. Shiny ain’t a bad name, ya know?

Either way, I come back and the village is in disarray - homes destroyed, trees burnt, and the survivors scared. My own little hole in the ground was raided of its shinies. I stare, fuming, as they tells me that my collection probably spared the lives of half the village. I wasn’t there to save them. I wasn’t there to stop them. I wasn’t there to…

But it’s not all bad, see. I kept the good stuff hidden. It was all still there. The seasons dragged on and the collections came like clockwork. I helped ease the burden on the others by offering up my shinies. Occasionally they would let us keep enough food to last through winter. I scoured every inch of the surrounding forest in those years, doubling my efforts to find treasure. Every shiny I got spared a kid’s life, I’m sure of it.

But year by year my collection dwindled. Hell, some of that was probably magical, too. That’s what pissed me off the most - The collectors couldn’t tell the damn difference. I had to withstand fifteen years of their damn ignorance, begrudgingly taking everything I had risked life and limb for over the years and forking it over to them. It irked me every time I saw them flaunting their treasure, my treasure, years after I gave it to them.

And then my stash ran out. I stood inside my hovel as the familiar shadows of the goliath goons loomed in the doorway, if it could even be called that. I shrugged, paws empty.

“What’s this, then? Haven’t you found some more goodies for us to take?”

“Hate to say it, but I’ve got nothin.”

“Holding out on us, eh?” The brute says, “that’s awfully unlike you, friend.”

“I ain’t your friend, buddy,” I says to them.

“And I ain’t your buddy, friend.” To be fair they had a point. “Now, how about you show us where you keep the good stuff hidden.”

“I already told you, I got nothin.”

“What’s that then?” The smaller one piped up, pointing to the dagger at my side. The one with the golden hilt and a jeweled pommel. Wasn’t magic far as I could tell but sure as hell felt like it. I found that on my first dig, and I wouldn’t trade it away for the world.

“Now hold on a second, that’s mine. It’s all I got left and nobody’s gonna take it from me.”

“That sounds like a challenge.” Faster than I knew, the big one threw himself at me, crashing us both into the fake mud wall to my empty vault. He wrestled the knife from me and, pinning me to the ground with his foot, held it between us.

“Sure looks pretty, but how well does it work? Seems well used.” Damn right it was well used, It was my most prized possession and I took care of the thing.

I began struggling as he lowered the blade to my forehead and dragged it down across one eye. I want to say I didn’t flinch, but I said I’d tell you the truth. It hurt like the Nine Hells and I screamed loud enough that the village definitely heard me.

Satisfied, he passed the now bloodied dagger to his partner and lifted his foot from me. I breathed in deeply as the pressure I didn’t even realize was there dissipated. I lay there for what seemed like hours before someone came in, signaling that they were long gone.

“Gods, what did they do to you?”

“What’s it bloody look like?” I seethed, hairs still bristling.

I said my goodbyes and left after that. I could survive in the wilds much better than any of the others, and if the village had less people, the collectors wouldn’t have to take as much. That’s what I told myself anyway. I traveled east, keeping to the mountains and continuing to raid the few sites I stumbled across. I ran into another goliath several times; I never got her name. Granted, I never asked, but we crossed paths regardless. Much nicer than the others. Still didn’t warm up to her too much, but we kept to our own.

“And that, buddy, brings us to today.” Shiny said, rummaging through the man’s pack.

“You’re a long way from home. To be honest I’m surprised you even made it this far. The mountains up here are dangerous if you’re looking to cross the river. You should know that by now, you lot have been trying it for thirty bloody years.”

Shiny pulled a dagger from the man’s bag. Golden hilt, jeweled pommel. “And every time I find more of you, I find another few of my shinies among your little group. Ah how I’ve missed you. Hmm. They haven’t been taking care of you, your blade’s all tarnished. I’ll have to fix that.”

Shiny stood up, and shoved his foot into the guard’s side, breaking the spear he had been impaled on and knocking him over from his perch against a tree.

“Now, let’s see what goodies your friends have got, shall we?” Shiny said, as he strolled over to another of the several corpses that littered the woods, waiting to be picked clean.