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Mai'Traya

Mai'Traya

Drow Engineer
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Character Biography
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Zar'Ahal was many things to many, different, people but to Mai'Traya it was a complicated mess of a place that was almost entirely out of the range of her special interest - so she really didn't care too much about it.

Some people (her mother especially) found it unseemly that her workshop was on the line between the Slave Slums and the rest of the city but she didn't really mind. A plus-side of slaves was that they made for neighbours who wouldn't complain about a lot of thing. Mostly out of fear that they'd be lashed for daring to complain in the first place but Mai didn't much mind that it was clearly due to fear.

All she cared about was the peace and quiet was only interrupted by herself and her own experiments.

It was a quiet day in the neighbourhood and everyone around the workshop likely thought she was only working on something small, something delicate and something that wouldn't cause too much noise.

Ha!

Joke was on them, really, she thought as she travelled through the air - carried as she was by the shockwave of the explosion that she had caused with something small and something very delicate and not at all quiet. Crashing through the main doors to her workshop, Mai'Traya skidded along the paved road in front of her workshop, battered, burned but very much alive.

"Amazing!" she cried out even as she sat upright, staring at the small fire that appeared to have started in her workshop, "Absolutely amazing yield for something so small... I wonder if I reinforce the metal if I might be able to channel the explosive force..."

She didn't even notice that one of her bangs was lightly smoking from being mildly on fire.

Vel'duith Voiryn
 
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Vel'duith peered out into the lower city from the jutting end of the side chute she had diverted to during the escape from House Suulet-Jabar. It swayed gently from side to side, which really should have been the diminutive drow's warning. But she was exulting in the moment, finally free again after some dozen hours that had seemed a full week - though the formality of a sending-spell would soon be in order. The queen and general were not enemies she wished to make. For as vast as she was learning Arethil truly was, it could seem quite small at times, like when she...

...and then the chute end snapped, collapsing forward, dumping its new tenant face-first toward the ground below. Was that an awning coming up fast? She seized the ends of her lurker mantle, the smelly rag-cloak over it snapping free into the dark as the mantle billowed full. She swung her legs, diverting herself onto the awning just in time. She released the mantle ends as she landed hard with an oof, then slid down and off, falling several yards to catch hold of another awning edge, dropping to the top of a neighborhood wall, arms windmilling for balance. Normally that might have worked, save for the silk-wrapped battleax stuffed into her satchel tugging her a bit more back and leftwards than expected. Her instant reaction was a foot shuffle... just an inch too far, and over she went, grabbing a pole and leverage swinging sideways onto a roof, just as it shook and rose up to greet her, pushed by a thunderous explosion below. She didn't even have time to puzzle about it.... WHAM!!!
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After the now askance lead-tin roof panel resettled, the unconscious, diminutive cloaked figure slid to its edge, which was just enough lever-force to finally tumble it down into the workshop below, rag-dolled drow and all, with the cheap clangor of flimsy lead-tin spranging on stone followed by a soft thuddle and the more solid muffled clank of the silk wrapped adamantine battleax striking a crate-band.

The figure having just landed on Mai'Traya's crate -one of the only non-smoldering ones- by way of a piece of her roof was a drow woman, abnormally short and thin, wearing spidersilk robes and a lurker-pelt mantle pinned inside out with some manner of silver device-pin, the device it bore hidden beneath. She had a hand crossbow, bolts, a shortsword, and a dagger on a waist-belt, all fine weapons of adamantine and silver with polished darkwood fittings, and the aforementioned silk-wrapped battleax slung in a now ripped from overstretching spidersilk carryall satchel. Half her face was covered by a dented-coned, broad-brimmed spidersilk hat, with a simple but perfectly even snow white braid splayed out and partially dangling over the crate-edge. Her mouth dripped a bit of blood from where her teeth had cut her lip, but her limbs looked more or less correctly articulated, all her fingers still seemed attached within the bloodied, partially rent lizardskin gloves covering them, and her chest softly rose and fell with a faint groan. One odd detail was that while most of her clothes looked like well-kept, well-worn lesser noble house fare, her boots looked nearly brand-new, and were surely of dwarf-make. Surface dwarf-make, at that.

Mai'Traya
 
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Mai'Traya had only just gotten back into her workshop when someone fell down into the workshop itself. Someone she had never seen before, someone who looked like they'd landed badly on one of the crates of ingots she'd managed to buy from some of the local forges. Someone who was dressed in spidersilk and had some weapons on her but...

"Your landing was terrible - are you dead?" she asked as she stepped closer to the downed Drow, nudging at her ribs with the tip of one boot, "Come on, wake up... I'm not allowing corpses in my workshop and you look like you'd be heavy."

Tilting her head to the side slightly, she nudged at the hand-crossbow with her foot and made a noise. It was a pained, disgusted, noise.

"Ew! What is that?! What even IS that?!"

Huffing some hair out of her mouth, she batted at her now shorter bangs, the fire having gone on a little longer than expected.

"Gross Dwarf-work... no wonder you're falling through ceilings and being all corpse-y!"

At no point at Mai'Traya actually checked if the woman was a corpse, at this point she had already decided that her corpse-ness or un-corpse-ness was entirely irrelevant in light of the sub-par quality of the woman's equipment.

Vel'duith Voiryn
 
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Vel’duith stirred groggily, stiffly, a bit painfully. The world spun in triplicate, with three leather-aproned drow rummaging and insulting her gear…

“What… no! It was commissioned from Jael’brin, near House Suulet-Jabar. Only my boots are dwarven… am I still in the city?”

She sat up perhaps too quickly, nearly swooning again. She started rubbing her temples, wincing as her palms decided to finally inform her brain that she had gashed them grabbing that awning-frame. The fall… oh, there’s part of the roof on the floor… she turned back to the questioner, trying to focus.

“Your…” Her voice trailed off a second as her foggy brain and dizzy eyes argued over the best classification of the smouldering room they were swirling amidst. “…dwelling…. just exploded?”

Mai'Traya
 
Oh, so not a corpse.

That was good because Mai'Traya did not look forward to trying to get corpse-smell out of her workshop. It had the unfortunate trait of lingering when it should otherwise have left. Still, alive was better by only some minor degree because she was trying to defend dwarven boots and another, vastly inferior, craftsdrow as well.

Poor near-dead thing thought she was defending her choice of kit like this? Probably the concussion talking.

"I'll choose to ignore how badly you're outfitted - and that you tried to defend such a decision. I know how hard it is to think clearly after head trauma and you must have been hit very hard." she tutted, reaching out and, very gingerly, giving Vel'duith a pat on the shoulder, "There. There."

The action had the feel of someone afraid of dogs petting a particularly nasty-looking variety. Still, the near-dead fashion-failure of a drow before her had stumbled across a topic of actual importance.

Mai'Traya's workshop!

"My workshop exploded, thank you very much!" she corrected archly, before grinning and gesturing to her alchemy table, which was very singed, "And only some of it actually exploded. Did you know that if you had Beakborrow Tusk dust to Distilled Water and shake in a confined metal container... that it explodes with energy and sends flammable material everywhere around it?"

Mai'Traya flicked her own nose with her thumb, adopting a smug look.

"I just discovered it. Isn't it exciting?!" she gushed, grabbing Vel'duith firmly by the shoulders and stopping just shy of shaking her, "Do you know what this means?!"

Vel'duith Voiryn
 
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Vel’duith considered the volatility of such a mixture of reagents and her garnet eyes widened. Now there were only two questioners flipping like spinning coins caught in some elliptical orbit close before her.

“Without some manner of reduction to act as a reverse catalyst? I feel fortunate the roof didn’t shatter and shred me to bits as I fell!”

She tried to stand, cautiously, definitely wobbly, woozily trying to take inventory of what exactly hurt, how much it hurt, and whether anything screamed for relief, aside from the now throbbing battleax-shaped welt across her lower back. Luckily, her limp, unconscious state had given her as soft of a landing atop a crate of metal ingots as could be imagined. Absent her clearheaded level of discretion, a somewhat decidedly un-Zar’Ahalan murmur slipped out of her lips as she slowly rotated her arms, bent elbows, knees-another big wobble, and a wincing half windmill to correct it.

“Seelah’s shimmer… nothing feels broken, at least…”

She gasped and bit hard on her lip as the other drow shook her excitedly.

“What?! What does it mean-is someone coming?”

She looked around too quickly, and nearly swooned again.

Mai'Traya
 
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