Lysienne Rainthir
Human Female
Bard 2
Alignment: Chaotic Neutral
Deity: Olidammara
12 Strength (+1)
15 Dexterity (+2)
14 Constitution (+2)
16 Intelligence (+3)
10 Wisdom (+0)
18 Charisma (+4)
Initiative: +2
Speed: 30’
BAB: +1
Grapple: +2
Melee Attack Bonus: +2
Damage: 1d6+1
AC: 16 (+2 Dex, +4 Armour), touch 12, flat-footed 14
Ranged Attack Bonus: +3 (Range 60’ x10)
Damage: 1d6
AC: 16 (+2 Dex, +4 Armour), touch 12, flat-footed 14
Hit Points: 14
Fortitude Saves: +2
Reflex Saves: +5
Will Saves: +6
Feats:
Bard Weapon Proficiency
Light Armour Proficiency
Shield Proficiency
Force of Personality
Skill Focus: Perform (Sing)
Abilities:
Bardic Knowledge (+7)
Bardic Music (2/day)
-Countersong
-Fascinate
-Inspire Courage (+1)
Skills:
+9 Bluff [5]+4 (Cha)
+7 Concentration [5]+2 (Con)
+8 Diplomacy [4]+4 (Cha)
+9 Gather Information [5]+4 (Cha)
+8 Knowledge (Arcana) [5]+3 (Int)
+8 Knowledge (History) [5]+3 (Int)
+12 Perform (Sing) [5]+7 (Cha, Skill Focus)
+5 Sleight of Hand [5]+0 (Dex, Armour Check Penalty)
+5 Spellcraft [2]+3 (Int)
+4 Tumble [4]+0 (Dex, Armour Check Penalty)
+9 Use Magic Device [5]+4 (Cha)
Spells:
Level 0: (3/day, DC 14)
Daze
Ghost Sound
Mage Hand
Message
Prestidigitation
Level 1: (1/day, DC 15)
Grease
Silent Image
Equipment:
Rapier (1d6, 18-20/x2)
Chain Shirt (+4 AC, +4 Max Dex Bonus, -2 Check Penalty)
Shortbow (1d6, 60’ x10 range)
40x Arrows (6 lbs)
Backpack (2 lbs)
-Ink
-Inkpen
-20x paper
-Oil (3 flasks)
-Bullseye Lantern
-5x Tindertwig
-Bottle of Wine
Belt Pouch
-6 cp
Languages: Common, Dwarven, Elven, Goblin
Description:
Lysienne is a devastatingly beautiful young woman. She stands about five feet tall and has a slim, elegant figure that is accentuated by her fluid movements and the expensively tailored dresses she is accustomed to wear. Her auburn hair cascades down to the middle of her back, slightly curled, and her bright green eyes shine out like emeralds, sparkling with frank interest and humour. There is something slightly feline about her movement and demeanour.
Background:
Lysienne was born, the younger by three minutes, of twin daughters to a noble family in the city of Greyhawk. The Rainthir’s were not major players in the city’s politics, but they were an old family and quite wealthy enough to provide their children with all the luxuries money could buy. Lysienne was provided with a fine education for a young lady, demonstrating a quick and adaptable mind that took quickly to all her lessons but showing a particular flair for song. At every turn, though, she found herself in competition with her sister Feanne. The two never did get on, and from an early age they vied with each other for attention and praise. The competition only intensified when the two became old enough to enter society circles for the first time. Both took adroitly to this new arena of battle, and as they grew up and the stakes raised the tension between them only grew.
In the meantime, Lysienne was growing tired of her lifestyle, constricted as it was to such a claustrophobically small social set. She longed to branch out and experience what life had to offer, and eventually she did. She began sneaking away at night, to the taverns and gambling houses. She was hardly the first noble to ‘slum it’, but to her it was all new and exciting. The vibrancy, the life, the noise and the colour and the stink of the places intoxicated her, and it wasn’t long before simply observing wasn’t enough for her. She began to immerse herself in the culture whenever she could, dancing with strange, unshaven men and drinking the watered down ale and strong spirits that they bought for her. Sometimes she’d even climb on a table and sing whatever popular songs she’d picked up, and go home tired, happy, and laden with coin she had no use for except to exult in having won it for herself.
One night she heard that Feanne had fallen seriously ill, and could not attend some function or another that she’d been invited to (many of the city’s nobles having already realised that it was best to invite only one of the Rainthir sisters to any given event). She seemed distraught, wanting desperately to go to the affair. Lysienne couldn’t resist the temptation. She diverted the servant who had been sent to deliver word to the hosts (a quick flutter of her eyelashes and the fool couldn’t remember his name, let alone object when she told him that he was to disregard previous orders and was free to go home early), and then she put on one of her sister’s dresses and went herself.
At first everything was fine – the normal tedium of high society alleviated by the frisson of excitement that came from her deception. Things took a strange turn though when a man she did not know – well-dressed, poised, exceptionally handsome – brushed past her in the crowd and, as if by accident, nudged her a little and nearly spilt her drink. As he solicitously apologised and made sure she was alright he made eye contact and, as attention turned from him, asked in a whisper “we can go ahead?” Numbly, she nodded, not wishing to expose her deception. “Meet in the outer courtyard in five minutes then.” Again she nodded.
Her mind raced with possibilities, but she settled on one quickly enough – it must, of course, be some romantic tryst of her sisters that she had kept hidden from the rest of the family. Not so very unusual – Gods knew she hid enough herself. She considered breaking off the act and going home, but she couldn’t resist the challenge of maintaining her act under these circumstances. She went to meet the man.
She didn’t get what she expected.
The man wasn’t there when she arrived in the courtyard. She stood by a small ornamental fountain, waiting, and a few moments later four figures appeared, walking sedately through the courtyard. She realised swiftly that it was her host – Lord Nethal, a prominent political figure in the city – and three others with him. She nodded politely as they passed. And then she realised that the man to her host’s left was the same one that she had been waiting to meet. He made no eye contact as he passed her. Then suddenly, shockingly, he drew a dagger from his cloak and in one smooth motion plunged it into Nethal’s neck. The other two men both drew their own daggers and made sure of the lord’s death, and then the three of them dropped their weapons and ran, the man she had spoken to before stopping ever so briefly to make eye contact with Lysienne and murmur “you know what to do.”
Of course, he was wrong. She had no idea what to do. The watch took her in, and trying to save herself she told them the whole story – the only result of which was to induce them to bring Feanne in as well. The evidence against Feanne was strong once they had caught and questioned the assassins, and she was tried and hanged while Lysianne languished in her cell, awaiting judgement for her part in the tangled affair. But judgement never came. In its place came an elf named Lenwë, who arrived in the prison with the aim of breaking out Lysianne’s cellmate, a thief with strong ties to the Olidammaran church. He was a warm blooded male, and as such Lysianne didn’t find it much of a challenge to convince him of her innocence and worthiness to be a part of the escape effort. She took shelter with him for a time, and when he left the city she went with him, seeing nothing to tie her there any longer.
