This is something I wrote for a Baldur's Gate fanfic site a while ago. It might work for some more githyanki flavour/background ideas. The Weeping Bronze Clan are a group of renegade githyanki, hunted by all others and the lich queen.
Also, I've got a githyanki prestige class on the house rules forum. See
here.
Glittering blades and unholy hearts – part 1
D’Rhaegor Sin lounged comfortably in his throne in what had until recently been the taproom of the Friendly Arm Inn and was now his feast hall. The ornate chair had been made for him by two native craftsmen whom the githyanki lord had mentally enslaved for the task. The carpenter had built the throne’s body from the finest hardwood lumber and then a goldsmith had overlaid the entire thing in gilt, both silver and gold. There were four skulls mounted on the throne, two atop the back of the chair, and one at the end of each arm rest, so that Sin’s hands rested upon the lifeless brows. The two skulls on the back belonged to two defenders who had been slain when Sin’s Weeping Bronze clan had taken this castle from the natives. The defence had been so valiant, and so vain, that D’Rhaegor Sin had wanted to commemorate it in some small way. The two skulls under his hands were another matter. Under his left hand was the former pate of Troweth F’rin, the bounty hunter who had sought to slay his mate D’Rhaegor Sirin. Under his right, now forever in his grip, was the skull of his own trusted lieutenant, Riflirin Vaerk, who had tried to betray Sin and the Weeping Bronze Clan to the githyanki lich queen. D’Rhaegor Sin had taken two days to kill Riflirin Vaerk, and even then, he had rushed himself. Now Vaerk’s skull gazed out on Sin’s throneroom with gem filled eye sockets.
The air in the feast hall was filled with the scents of roasting meat and flowing wine. His captains were celebrating their easy victories against the planesbound natives. After so many defeats, Sin was happy to feast his soldiers, even for such unchallenging achievements. Mind enslaved servants worked in the kitchens to prepare food and others moved thoughtlessly among the tables, serving the soldiers. Githyanki used slaves like tools, erasing their thoughts and crushing their will so that all they were able to do was to respond to the passing needs of their masters. In this they resembled their illithid foes.
Looking down on the floor before him, Sin could see his mate D’Rhaegor Sirin, moving amongst the tables, amiably chatting with his troops. It seemed such a little thing and yet he knew it only cemented their loyalties to him. His clan suffered none of the infighting which often rent other githyanki clans and Sin knew that Sirin was the cause. Her charisma and cunning were half of his leadership.
There was smoke in the feast hall and Sin realised that it was more than could be attributed to the candles and the firepit. And there was something else, something tangible about the smoke, which teased Sin’s mental senses. In an instant, he was fully alert and so were many of his soldiers, those not too drunk to care.
Suddenly, the smoke drew itself together and coalesced into the figures of five tall, elegant dark elves, standing in the middle of the room. They were all dressed in armour, suits of dark elven chain or plate. They wore no helms, and their long white manes fell down their backs. Their cloaks and other garments were exquisite, richly embroidered, but all in reds and purples, blacks and blues – the colours of blood in all its forms. Each one of the five sported long white fangs which glistened brilliantly against the midnight black skin of their faces.
The sudden appearance of the dark elves caused an uproar, as githyanki soldiers, many too drunk to fully understand what was happening, launched themselves to their feet, scrabbling for their blades. One particularly drunk warrior even cut down a mind dead serving girl in his excitement and confusion. She made no cry as she crumpled to the floor boards.
Before a melee could ensue the clarion call of D’Rhaegor Sirin’s mental voice rang through the ether, as she called for a halt. With a spoken voice, for the benefit of the drow, she addressed Sin upon his throne; “My lord, I present you with new friends, soon to become allies, I think.”
The female drow leader spoke with a voice that reminded Sin equally of love making and funeral rites. “We are the captains of the Legion of the Bat and we come to offer our services, if you can afford them.”
Realising that they had invited guests, the githyanki settled back down to their feasting as D’Rhaegor Sin offered the five drow vampires seats next to his throne. “Come,” he said, with a smile for his mate and her incredible plans. “Let us see if we cannot find some refreshment for you!”
As the five mercenaries sat down to discuss contracts, Sin made sure that five of the mind slaves were directed to the guests. As Sirin came to stand by his throne her mind whispered to him,
We’ll have to replace them tomorrow.
