Magiries Trannyth

## Appearance

Standing at a short 5'1, the slender warlock keeps her black hair short and tucked behind an ear, and can almost always be seen wearing her red, black-trimmed cloak.

## Personality

After living sheltered and somewhat spoiled, Magiries developed a desire to experience the world beyond the extensive library she knew and isn't above breaking a rule or two to get what she wanted--as long as she wasn't caught.

She learned how to flatter and lie from her socialite mother, and how to exude a noble’s confidence from her quiet, yet authoritative father. These skills only developed after her new life began.

She also enjoys tea and biscuits (with chocolate is best) as much as she enjoys teasing some people, particularly new officers at Stormgate Keep who haven’t been made aware of her little sadistic streak.

Stories in all forms make her eyes sparkle, whether they be details unfolding from a puzzling case, or a magical object’s history.

## History

### **The Fall of House Trannyth**

Magiries Trannyth is the only daughter of the powerful Trannyth house, a well-known family comfortably situated in the city of nobles: Skyseat.

She was considered an oddball since she was a child able to string sentences together. She asked questions all the time, and when no one in her home could give her satisfactory answers, she was introduced to a sprawling library her father kept stocked for her. It served the purpose of keeping her busy, out of the way, and safe, as she had no interests in people other than to know what she didn’t. Though her father was strict, she found happiness in him indulging her intellect with volumes and volumes of books, and even with a few games he’d play with her to sharpen her mind further.

She developed a particular fondness for puzzles and stories--ones recounted by other races, and ones that told of the beings living in otherworldly planes. Eventually, rereading the library’s books after finishing all the new books her father couldn’t get fast enough got her bored enough to crave something new.

When she heard about the chaotic state of the South Quarter in Ostium while eavesdropping on one of her father’s dealings with merchants having trouble in the area, she decided she wanted to visit. The more she thought about it, the more she wished to and experience something so chaotic firsthand, away from the increasingly boring, controlled order of her family’s estate. The more she thought about it, the more she craved it: the idea of a world brimming with experiences the likes of which no book could truly capture.

However, not only was the mere idea of stepping out of their compound out of the question--but her father made it clear that she completely incapable of protecting herself out in Skyseat, much less in a place like Ostium. No amount of persuading nor reasoning could convince him to even give Magiries a bodyguard outside the one she already had, let her out of the house to search for one that might meet his standards, or even enlist the help of the servants.

He told her she was too naïve to think that her wits alone--as sharp as she may believe them to be--would be enough to keep her alive in the world outside.

Well. It was as good a time as any to prove him wrong.

Magiries turned to her books, and figured that if no one in this plane would help her—perhaps someone on another would. Poring over her rarer texts, she chose who to deal with carefully. Based on her stories, the Fair Folk were too chaotic. The Great Old Ones were too unpredictable. The Fiends, however, as lawful as they were despite their evil, made Magiries believe they could be easiest to deal with. She thought that anything that could be bound by rules could be manipulated as easily as her parents did the law to help them amass their wealth.

She sought a fiend powerful enough to grant her what she needed, but was also in dire need of something she might be able to provide despite being but a sheltered little girl.

Using fresh blood and gore from the kitchens and tomes bound with mysteriously soft leather, she summoned a fearsome archdevil one night in the library after a grueling year of hidden research. No amount of steeling prepared her for the monstrosity of scales, venom, and screaming angel heads that greeted her, but she stood her ground.

She was immediately told that despite her sloppy ceremony (at her indignation), the bestial, yet curiously well-mannered devil only graced her with his presence because he was curious at being summoned yet again. Magiries immediately asked who it was that summoned him first, but the fiend refused to answer. Instead, he asked her why she would risk the likes of her immortal soul for power.

Ready to bargain, she replied that she intended to risk no such thing, and offered the devil something she felt was much more useful: her services alive. He need only provide her protection, and a means to secure her freedom from parents too powerful to be countered by anyone on her plane. She shared her intention of observing chaos and her near inhuman ability to process and store information. Then, doing her best to keep her voice from wavering, the 18-year old told the devil that these would be at his disposal.

The devil looked far from impressed, as far as she could tell, but he didn’t seem disinterested—if anything, he seemed amused. He asked then if she was willing to sacrifice her past for the freedom she wanted, and part of her freedom for his protection and power. If she was willing to do that, then he was willing to lend her the full extent of his abilities. Magiries agreed, and as soon as their pact was made, she blacked out to the chilling sound of his laughter.

Once she came to, she was in a place she’d never seen before. She was dressed in travelling clothes she never used, with a nearby bag containing writing implements and few things. A short distance from her was a compound burning brightly against a moonless sky. It took her a while to realize she was staring at her home from the outside—and that the sounds she heard amidst the crackling and crashing of the fire were of people screaming.

When Magiries tried to get closer, a huge, shadowy mass blocked her way. It wouldn’t let her reach the house no matter what she did. Despite knowing it wasn’t of this world, Magiries screamed for an explanation.

A deep voice devoid of emotion answered in her mind. It told her to appreciate her patron’s gift better, and to stop making his job as her new guardian and familiar any harder than it has to be.

She wanted freedom, and it was granted—at the expense of the lives of everyone in the Trannyth household. There was now no one left who would get in her way, since, as shut in as she was, no one outside the house would be able to place her as the lord’s eccentric daughter.

She was also told that the moment she agreed to sacrifice her past for her patron’s full abilities, she had agreed to destroy the agent that her new patron had already been in a pact with, thereby severing her ties as well as that of her patron’s.

That agent, to the young girl’s horror, had been Piero Trannyth: her father. His pact had him sell her future in exchange for wealth and power before she had been born—a pact that was now simply rewritten to accommodate his daughter’s wishes.

Once the unnatural fire died down at dawn, the shadow told Magiries there was nothing left for her to do but leave for the chaos she wanted to see so badly. Magiries followed, but demanded, still, that she do one more thing before she left for good. She walked into the remains of her estate, and took some of the ashes into a locket bearing the family crest that she kept around her neck. All the better to remind her of the cost of naïveté.

Turning to the formless shadow waiting on her, Magiries reached out, and stroked what could have been its back. She continued to stroke, answering the worldless questions the voice in her mind asked her with an image she held firmly in her mind’s eye: that of a strong hound, not unlike the ones her father trained. As she started to walk, the shadow walked alongside her. Its shape gave way to four legs, a long tail, sloping shoulders, and a long muzzle.

She gripped a handful of the hound’s black, shaggy fur, refusing to wipe her eyes as she whispered. “Your name is Lucan, your form as I see. As part of my pact, you are honor bound to protect me. The price is paid for your loyalty, so mote it be."

No longer formless, the voice answered in a low growl only her mind could hear.

*<Where you go, so shall I.>*

With the gifts she’d been granted to begin her new life, the last Trannyth set off for Stormgate, the chaotic South Quarter of the city of Ostium.

### **Stormgate Precinct**

Ostrium was nothing like Magiries expected, but she wasn’t going to regret her decision. She held herself as calmly as she could, and Lucan served as a well enough deterrent against anyone who thought the young girl to be an easy target.

As easy as it might have been to walk without purpose, her familiar reminded her that if she intended to stay, she needed a place to sleep, and a means to sustain herself.

*<That’s called ‘work’ around these parts, my lady.>*

“I know what that means!”

Neither objective looked like it was getting fulfilled any time soon, though. Any place Magiries inquired in for work demanded skills she didn’t have: fighting, cooking, cleaning--and dancing, though the Warlock quickly decided she didn’t want to dance in a dimly lit place with little clothes despite the lucrative pay, even if she knew how.

Out of leads, she stepped into the last place she could think of: the precinct office. The warriors stepping in and out of the area, giving her and Lucan strange looks. The young woman paid them no mind, and instead gave the man behind the first desk she saw a bright smile, and a request to meet whoever was in charge. He thought she was lost. With her smile in place, Magiries corrected him. “I would like to find work here as one of you.” The magistrate she spoke to couldn’t help but laugh--until Lucan hopped up his front paws on the desk and snarled in his face. Magiries immediately apologized, then calmly reiterated her request as she put a hand on the large hound’s head to stop the growling.

Soon enough she made her way to Captain Vulrax Dawnscale, and began negotiating a job. It was clear the Warlock was no fighter, and spoke and carried herself differently enough for the captain to doubt she was just ‘a wandering traveller who has read more than most men have in their lifetime’. Still, Magiries showed no signs of giving up, and Dawnscale showed no signs of indulging what he thought was some little girl’s fancy. Hoping to deter her from a dangerous occupation, he brought her to the records room, and gave her the task of sorting through the mountains of new reports from concluded cases.

Dawnscale came back the next day, and was surprised to find the warlock asleep with her hound as her pillow in the middle of a room full of neatly stacked papers. A magistrate entered the room shortly after, explaining to the bewildered captain that he was looking for a case. A sleepy Magiries got up, muttered the date and case number the magistrate was looking for, and retrieved the files he needed for him.

The next thing Magiries knew, the captain was treating her to breakfast. He named cases, dropped titles, and wondered about dates out loud, all of which Magiries sleepily cited, completed, or otherwise named between polite bites. Dawnscale eventually concluded this wasn’t possible unless she read through everything she’d sorted.

She again asked for work as a magistrate, and told Dawnscale that if he gave her the chance, she could make him proud. “With all due respect, sir, I believe I’ve proven I’m more than just talk, and it’s only been the one night.” After that display, Dawnscale believed it wouldn’t hurt to try giving in to her request. He had to ask her why she was so adamant about it, though. With a grateful smile, Magiries sleepily answered that she had a score to keep for the price she paid--and after ‘talking about it last night’, serving justice as a Magistrate felt awfully fitting.

Then she asked him, while maintaining her respectful tone, what it was like if his scales itched.

“Shut up and finish your hashbrowns.” Was the curt reply.

### **The Elven Hunter**

Maggie had rented a room at the Cock and Bull (with the last of the gold she had) while looking for a job at Ostium. Lucan had informed her of the place’s scent while they wandered inside--thick with liquor, tobacco, and men of the same scent as that of the local precinct. If there was a place that could offer the most security without costing an arm, a leg, or both, this was likely it.

After her breakfast with Vulrax, she went to see if she could maybe find a better place now that she knew how much she could earn to support herself.

Eager for a bath and a bed, the disheveled Warlock made her way to the innkeeper that same early morning. She was going to inform him of her plans to leave her room.

That was when she saw a visitor who already made his way ahead, carrying a large bull elk to the kitchen. He didn’t look like someone in the Cock and Bull’s employ: something about his sure and steady gait spoke about the man’s authority--something a mere inn hand was unlikely to possess.

Speaking volumes more about the unusual nature of the visitor were the ornate scars that adorned his arms, bare in the hunting attire he sported. None of her books had anything that came close to describing something so strange.

Magiries sleepily voiced an order for more food to the friendly innkeeper instead. She was far too intrigued by the scarred elven hunter to remember that she had just eaten breakfast, or that she was leaving.

She didn’t realize he was looking her way too by the time she caught herself. His sharp glance away made her frown, though.

*<As amused as I would have been to see what you would do without a job, things could have gone less terribly. Congratulations for finding a place for yourself, my lady.>*

The gruff, nonchalant voice in her mind made her smile a little to herself.

*“I told you I could do it.”*

Her golden eyes flicked towards the hunter again, but he was sharpening his daggers in a rush, head bowed. Lucan had settled next to her, looking at the fresh meat and licking his lips. Shapeless thoughts of hunger seeping into her head made her stomach forget it was full of hashbrowns.

Her hand sought the large hound’s fur without thinking. Lucan didn’t look at her, but he didn’t edge away.

“I think that hunter is afraid of you.”

*<Then I’m doing my job well.>*

*“That’s not what I meant…”*

The hunter--elven, he appeared to be, she was sure no one else could be so tall with ears like that--exchanged a few words with Tarkus and left. Magiries turned slowly to watch him go while Lucan kept his unblinking eyes at the raw meat he left behind.

“Why would he be afraid of you?”

*<I don’t pretend to know.>*

Magiries frowned, and looked up at Turkus. “Pardon me. Who was that hunter?”

The minotaur towered over her, and followed her gaze. “Best keep to your books, lass. That one’s a Magistrate.”

"Oh…?” Magiries’s face visibly brightened. “He looks rather capable to work with."

"What?"

"Nothing. Can Lucan and I have some of what he sold for lunch?"

"Not breakfast?”

“Ah. I changed my mind. Lunch instead. For me and Lucan.”

“About that dog--"

"I also need to sleep today,” she hopped off the bar stool, “but I'll gladly discuss this later! I would also like to discuss moving to a room worth 8 silvers, if you please." She smiled up at Turkus, who raised an eyebrow. “I’m just terribly tired, you see… long night last night...”

“8 silvers though? I don’t mean to pry, but how will you pay for that, now?”

Magiries gave him a sly smile. “I’ll show you tomorrow.”

As soon as she was given her Magistrate mask the next day, the Warlock wasted no time in bringing it to the inn, hidden in her cloak.

Slipping it on after Tarkus turned back to her brought such deep satisfaction that she could barely hide her giggles behind the polished gold. It was lucky that the Minotaur was a sport about the tankard he dropped when he did a double take.

### **The Black Mask**

Magiries took to her duties as a magistrate well enough in the 2 years she’d stayed. Patrols were far more interesting than the records room, but she was more comfortable in the latter when she had to something to research. There was so much to learn, and each story she gleaned from the people who came in and out of the precinct offered more than her books ever could.

The warlock had just finished placing a box of parchment on Lucan’s back to carry out to a desk when several voices outside caught her attention. A young halfling was being led to a cell amidst a crowd of hushed magistrates. Upon asking, Magiries learned that the halfling was a dangerous Black Mask who’d killed the capable magistrate serving as his keeper.

Curiosity getting the better of her, she learned his name, and looked into his crime. Knowing that the crime of killing a magistrate was punishable by death, she had to wonder why Vulrax kept the halfling--named Cairo--alive longer than the two days. When the warlock ambushed him in his office, Vulrax divulged that Cairo was indeed due for death row, unless someone else applied to be his keeper. It was a waste to kill an otherwise capable warrior, but no one in the precinct wanted to ally with someone capable of killing them.

Magiries saw a chance for recognition, and volunteered to take the role. Vulrax not outright denying her (like he usually did when she volunteered for dangerous missions) made her plead her case all the more when the dragonborn tried. When Vulrax eventually gave in, she immediately left for Cairo’s cell, and stood on her tiptoes to see him through the window, crouched in a dark corner of his cell.

“Pleased to meet you. My name is Magiries, and I’ll be getting you out of there in the next night or so. Please clean up as best you can until then. Thank you!”

On the day she promised, the Black Mask was transferred to a holding room, and was met with the sight of her and her notes on his case. Lucan lay by her feet as she spoke with him about the strangeness of his case. Magiries animatedly pointed out his accomplishments, his violence, his vigilante tendencies, the details of his case with his keeper, and above all, the lack of motivation that should have accompanied him being the killer--all at his tender age of 17. After being met with gruff answers and short replies, Magiries looked at Cairo in the eye, and without batting an eyelash, asked why he killed the magistrate.

She wasn’t sure why, but Cairo confessed, after a period of stubborn silence. She learned about the magistrate’s corruption, and Cairo’s bitterness towards a symbol of the law falling to evil. When he was finished with his story, she began putting her notes away with a smile.

“The way I see it, Cairo--if I proved you could trust me to keep your secret, then I could trust you to keep me alive. Or if you prefer, you can kill me and end your short life while corruption continues to grow in places you’ve yet to find.”

Magiries held out her hand to the Black Mask, and her smile grew wider.

“The latter sounds much too boring for the likes of you, though. Wouldn’t you agree?”

The halfling did agree, and shook her hand--with a thinly veiled promise that he’d take that ‘boring offer’ if he found corruption in her.

Lucan’s teeth bared at the mention of a threat, but made no noise otherwise. Magiries discreetly wiped her hand clean on her seat after, and patted the hound’s head. She stood up with her things, and vaguely waved in Cairo’s direction with a short, “If you say so.”

She then set off to file the paperwork to place the Black Mask halfing in her keep.

## Languages

* Common
* Infernal
* Elven

## Spells

### **Cantrips**

* Eldritch Blast
* Minor Illusion

### **Spells**

* Burning Hands
* Hex
* Silent Image

### **Invocations**

* Misty Visions
* Agonizing Blast

### **Rituals**

* Detect Magic
* Find Familiar

## Relationships

* Lucan
* Cairo P. Tera
* A'eden Lladel
* Enya Hildebrand
* Qast Focritt
* Kassim Salzu

## Trivia

* Magiries keeps her ash-filled locket as her arcane focus.
* She also keeps a glass jar of chocolate biscuits on hand for special occasions.
* She was born on the 28th of Quintus (June).
* She currently resides at the Cock and Bull.
* She will prefer to talk her way out of situations and avoid any direct confrontation.
* Despite his role as her protector and his protests against it, Magiries will flare (sometimes literally) at anyone who hurts Lucan.
* Though she is able to do so, she'll avoid dismissing Lucan, even when it would be the more convenient choice. She relies on him so much that doing so is akin to taking away her confidence.
* Magiries prefers cursing in Infernal.
* Her mother was Lady Qyrora Trannyth, and her father was Lord Piero Trannyth.

## Quotes

* *"Nobawdeh hurts mah dawg!!"*
* "Ah trie." (ah crap.)
* "Smuz." (shit.)