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Shaunyndain

A burly, grey-skinned duergar with a glint of madness in his red eyes.

0 · 101 views · located in The Infinite Void

a character in “The Multiverse”, as played by Tejas

Description

A semi-balding duergar (grey dwarf) with a full and flowing beard of white hair shrouding his face. A multitude of scars are visible wherever the beard does not cover, and his hawk-bill nose is somewhat crooked from being broken several times.

Personality

His manner is somber, though he has the tendency to burst into violence for apparently little reason.

Equipment

He wears a suit of leather armor made from the skins of slaughtered drow elves. Across his broad back, he carries a vicious, wide-bladed sword that has dozens of nicks in the blade.

History

A long-standing ally of the drow elf, Zahvendiel t'Rylithendii, Shaunyndain Kemp is also considered a friend by the flamboyant elf. Few would have anything to do with him, as it is obvious to the most casual observer that Shaun is only loosely hinged to sanity.

So begins...

Shaunyndain's Story

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#, as written by Tejas
Shaunyndain all but crashes through the door, his boot nearly wrenching the door from it's hinges. With not a word save for a grumble, he stomps his way slowly toward the bar, dragging a great claymore behind him, the steel gouging the floor as the duergar moves along.

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Shaunyndain flicks a glance at Carrickfergus as he drifts by her. He pauses just long enough to snort hard, then he spits a wad of phlegm at her feet. With a sneer on his face (and a glint of madness in his eyes) he turns away and continues on toward the bar.

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Shaunyndain stops for just a moment, watching the woman. "Missy, I don't be needin' no gal. But if I be wantin' somethin', aint hell nor high water gonna be ta stoppin' me from gettin' it." Then he gave her a dirty leer before turning away once more.

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Shaunyndain hears the woman behind him and he rears his head back as he lets out a roar of laughter. "Bwa! Ha ha ha ha ha! Ye're a fiery one, lass! Keep at it, an' I'll have ta be addin' yer hide ta me armor!" He gestures toward the leather armor he is wearing. The leather almost looks like . . . like skin . . .

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Shaunyndain shoves open the door of the bar and staggers in, reeking of ale and . . . other things. There is fresh blood on his leather armor, very little of it appearing to be his own. With a loud belch, he begins his wavering journey toward the bar.

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Shaunyndain absently brushes some of the blood from his armor. The leather suit was odd. It almost looked as though it were made of . . . black skin. Like the skin of, say, dark elves . . .

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Shaunyndain shakes his head and blinks away most of his disorientation. Then he spots, Zur'aslwein. His eyes narrow and he runs a hand across a new scar on his chin. "Hmmmmmm. I'm fer bettin' that ye're th' cussed drow that tried ta off me a while back. An' if'n ye're not, me armor's needin' some new hide anyhow . . ." There is a glint of madness in his red eyes as he sways a little from the ale in his system. He belches loudly.

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Shaunyndain suddenly snorts hard, the spits out a wad of phlegm at Zur'aslwein's feet. "Ach! Don't get yer panties in a bunch, ye skinny elf." He strokes a hand down his chest, caressing the leather of his armor. "I'm just rattlin' yer cage. Me armor's got enough hide fer now." He gave her a lewd wink. "But I may be back fer skin later. Gotta hand it to ye, though. Takes a right skilled elf ta sneak up on me like ye did." He drags a chair from a nearby table, and plops down in it.

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Shaunyndain reaches over his shoulder and loosens the massive sword strapped to his back, then stabs the tip into the floor. The weapon is ugly, of duergar design, and it has many dozens of gouges in the steel. "What're ye meanin', what am I about? I'm here cuz me old friend Zahv sended me ta talk to ye. I think he meant fer me ta rough ye up, but I'm feelin' lazy today." He belches again. "And a bit drunk too . . . "So, what say ye fill me in on this li'l battle ye and yer kin are plannin'?"

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Shaunyndain leans to one side and a loud rumble erupts from him, exuding a fetid odor of flatulence. "Well, lass, ye could try it. But I wouldna advise it. I aint the type ta just lie down an' play dead." He nonchalantly waves a hand, fanning away the stench he just created.

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Shaunyndain rears back his head and laughs at the drow elf's words. "Bwa! Ha ha ha ha ha! Ye're a fine one, lass! Fine and funny. Ha ha! Ye aint got a snowball's chance in hell o' guttin' that drow. I've tried meself a time or two to add his hide ta me armor." He shakes his head in remembrance. "I gots ta hand it ta the lad. He certainly knows how ta make an enemy into an ally. Meself among that list."

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Shaunyndain eyes Zur'aslwein carefully, demanding her attention. "Lass, th' only reason she beat him was 'cause his brain was 'tween his legs. He aint got th' same problem with ye. He don't be likin' ye all that much at all."

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Shaunyndain sighs, his ale-soaked breath almost enough to make one pass out. "Lass, I'm sayin' that ye aint got what it takes to off that elf. He's a crafty one, crafty as they come. Even that Jarlaxle fella seems ta admire him a bit." He wags a finger at her. "Ye're not gonna get him."

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Shaunyndain chuckles. "I've seen yer type before, lass. Compared to Zahv, ye couldn;t find yer own bum in the dark with both hands."

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Shaunyndain grins and sways a little in his chair. "Lass, ye never gone against him. I have. And I've gutted enough o' yer kin ta know how ta handle meself. Still couldn't beat him though." He shrugs. "Shame, though. He'd a made a fine addition ta me armor. But I don't have ta see ye fight ta know he's better. It's all in yer stance. He's cocky 'cause he's good."

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Shaunyndain (repost) grins and sways a little in his chair. "Lass, ye never gone against him. I have. And I've gutted enough o' yer kin ta know how ta handle meself. Still couldn't beat him though." He shrugs. "Shame, though. He'd a made a fine addition ta me armor. But I don't have ta see ye fight ta know he's better. It's all in yer stance. He's cocky 'cause he's good."

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Shaunyndain frowns, though it's hard to tell between the heavy beard and the massive numbers of facial scars. "Prisoner? Ye? Nah!" Ye're not the kind ta fall prey to my kin." He scratches his semi-bald head. "I canna see any o' me kin gettin' th' better o' ye . . ."

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Shaunyndain releases another wave of flatulence. "Egh! That feels better! Whew!" He waves away the smell as he answers her. "Missy, he don't be likin' ye 'cause he thinks ye're a threat ta his woman an' his baby. He's a might protective, that one." He gives a short laugh. "Heh! The dopey lad even thinks ta watch out fer meself! Like I'm ever in over me own head. Hah!"

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Shaunyndain smiles broadly, his crooked yellow teeth showing through the beard. "Ah, lass, ye hurt ol' Zahv an' ye hurt his woman." There was actually some concern in his eyes, right next to the madness . . . "She loves him, lass. Whether ye like it or no, she loves the fool."

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Shaunyndain chuckles. "Eh, lass?" He points directly behind her at the drow elf standing there. Zahvendiel clears his throat, his fingers limbering up as though ready to summon his rapiers if need be. Shaunyndain continues, "He's been listening in fer a while now. Told ya he was good."

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Shaunyndain fingers his skinning knife for a second, watching the drow woman. He has a strong urge to take her skin for his armor, but he resists it and turns away, going to join Zahv.

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Shaunyndain has awakened from his unwanted nap and is very VERY cranky.