Myrincyl the Menkyo, Imperial Shadow

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Role

Chapter 1

She woke with a gasp, wheezing for breath, plumes of frosted air dissipating
from her beak into the cold, austere air of the Imperial Lands.

The nightmare memory of the trial still thudded in her brain, the sweat
pooling beneath her feathers, making the scar on her right side glisten in the
moonlight. The accusations, the threats, the sobs of the families. They had
named her monster, nestkiller.

How dare they? Looming there, beaks gnashing, without a thought of their own
actions. Expecting those poor broken fledglings to suffer through their
injuries and maladies? She had released them, free, to the peace that no
living creature could know.

Master Fry'lin had said it himself, during her training: the fledglings come
first. As a broodmaid and nurse, it was her responsibility to look after her
patients. Parents, sure, they thought they knew best. But to expect her to let
them to live on in the agony of crumpled wings, or a stunted mind, or the
brittlefeather sickness?

Not on her watch.

So she had been put on trial for being the only one who could do what's right
for those fledglings. Incredible, if you thought about it. One of the nasty
little mothers, full of false tears, even had the temerity to throw that acid
on her face as they led her to her exile, to the edge of the mountains.
Scarring her forever, for being the one who had the strength to release those
poor creatures from their torment. Disgusting.

They would pay, though. They would all pay.

Role

Chapter 2

* A letter, written on fine vellum*

Esteemed Ayr'Trinil Special Council,

As the legal representative of the families bereaved by the unimaginable
murders of Myrincyl the Nestbutcher, I must strongly object to the decision of
merely banishing her from the city. These were no crimes of passion nor
temporary plights of insanity. No, it was the cold, calculated act of one who
delights in death itself, one who's taste for blood will only be quenched by
the death she so eagerly provides to the weak and helpless in our fair city.

We have heard the testimony of how conniving and manipulative she is. After
the first children were found dead, she grieved loudest of all of her fellow
nurses, even rivalling some of the family members. As the murders continued,
she led a campaign to defame one of the mothers, Lady Lin'ryn, casting herself
in righteous indignation. We have heard the testimony of the suspicious death
of her brother when she was not even of the age of ten, barely molting.

She is a monster. If we exile her, she will find succor in others of her ilk,
lying and twisting words to quench her insatiable taste for death. And her web
of deceit will eventually reach back here, mark my words.

Lady Lin'ryn's attack on her, the splashing of acid upon her face, is
regrettable. But the pain of losing a child and being initially cast as the
murderer broke her mind. If the Lady had not taken her life afterward, I would
ask for a full pardon. She, not the Nestbutcher, had a reasonable excuse for
her actions. We should not weigh this in the sentencing, as some final plea
for mercy.

I beg you, sentence the Nestbutcher to death. All of Ayr'Trinil will pay the
price eventually if you do not.

Yours sincerely and in service,

Lord Ryld'arn Stuckfeather, Esq.