PRELUDE - A Note From An Old Friend

[Trogdor]

The first Savage Tide has already touched the mortal world, yet none who live today recall this terrible time of red ruin. It swept over an ancient city, transforming beggar and noble, merchant and thief, resident and visitor, one and all into feral, ravenous fiends. What took the ancients hundreds of years to build came crumbling down in a matter of days. When the final ripples of the tide faded, only ruins remained.

Now, after a thousand years, the hidden architect of the Savage Tide gazes upon new targets. This time, the doom will not be limited to one hapless city. This time, all of civilization is perched on the shore, blissfully ignorant of what the tide is about to bring in.

---

Early evening finds Daerith Amlyn lounging before the fire in a comfortable leather chair at The Pearl and Parrot, sipping wine and reading a treatise on military tactics. The author's observations are astute, but Daerith can't help but be distracted by his own difficult situation.

Without a job, and thrown out of his father's house, he was in a difficult financial position. If he was careful about it, his money should hold out for another week - two if he gave up wine, but that wasn't likely to happen. Thankfully, if worse came to worst, he could always see if the Witchwarden Tower needed any scribing work done - they usually did. It wasn't glamorous, but it would keep a roof over his head. Still, scratching a pen at a desk for hours a day was not what he wanted out of life. If it was, then the break with his father would never have happened.

Returning his concentration to the treatise, the elvish mage fails to notice one of the serving girls approaching until she's almost upon him.

"Beg pardon, Mister Amlyn," she says, "but there's a woman to see you." She points back towards the entrance to the common room where Daerith can see a very old halfling woman standing with a scroll clasped in one hand. The woman looks familiar, but it takes a moment for him to place her - Kora Whistlegap. She was an old family retainer for the Vanderboren family. He'd met her when visiting the Vanderboren estate in the years that Lavinia Vanderboren had been a student of his. But it had been nearly five years since he'd seen her last, and probably two since he'd seen Lavinia - no doubt because he'd been spending more and more time at the Arena.

Rising from his chair and putting the book down, Daerith walks over to the halfling woman, hand outstretched. "A pleasure to see you again, Mrs. Whistlegap," he says, and minor pleasantries are exchanged. But quickly she hands him the scroll.

"My lady wanted you to read this immediately," Kora says quietly, and she steps back to give Daerith time to open the scroll. He does so immedaitely and reads the following:

Daerith,

I trust this letter finds you in good health. I understand you are at loose ends, and was wondering if you might be able to help me.

If it would be conveneient, I would greatly enjoy having you at dinner at the Vanderboren estate tomorrow evening. I think that I can present you with an opportunity uniquely suited to your skills. And if you had one or two associates who you think might also be capable, I welcome you to bring them as well. This may be more than one person - even one of your talents - could accomplish alone.

Please give Kora your response. I hope to be speaking to you soon.

Lavinia Vanderboren

Turning to Kora, he offers his reply.

OOC

Welcome Vardaen, Eanwulf, and arkahm to the Savage Tide game. This thread is for them to reply.

[Vardaen]

Closing the book when the serving girl approaches him the young Elven mage looks across the room at the older Halfling woman and smiles. "Thank you," he offers to the girl before he stands and sets his book down on the chair behind him, the red silk bookmark hanging out of the top to hold his place. Crossing the room he nods politely to Mrs. Whistlegap and receives the note...


Without thinking about it, standing there with the note in his hand, Daerith begins to whistle, a habit that he seemed to always fall into when Mrs. Whistlegap was near; perhaps it's something subconscious about her name. He rocks on his heels and whistles part of something he heard one night down at The Hammer and Axe, a generally rowdy bar he's only visited once or twice after being impressed with a dwarven gladiator or two, but its generally not his style, the ale there makes him ill. So he finishes and folds the note up and tucks it neatly into his shirt pocket on his left breast. "Please tell Lavinia that I would most enjoy an evening dining with her. Her family has always had such wonderful taste." He pauses a moment as if half remembering something about her family, but then shake his head as he can't recall, his long white hair falling around his shoulders like little silver rivers.

As an after thought he adds, "Tell her to expect three guest all told, I believe I might be able to scrounge up a suitable companion or two, as she's requested." His thoughts instantly go toward Shumba, he owes the Half-Orc a favor and he hopes this might pay him back, the Vanderboren were always a fairly well off family.

[Trogdor]

Kora Whistlegap nods at Daerith's reply. "I shall let Lady Vanderboren know that she should expect three." Then the family retainer turns to leave. But as she gets to the door to the room Kora turns back once more to face the elven wizard. Looking around to confirm that no one else is within earshot, she adds in a low voice, "my lady really needs someone she can trust right now. The past few weeks have been ... difficult. Please help her as best you can." Then, without giving Daerith time to respond further, she slips out the door.

[Vardaen]

Standing there stunned, the words of Mrs. Whistlegap lingering in his ears he wonders I wonder why Lavina would call on me, things must truely be desperate for her. The Elven wizard turns around and returns to his book, standing before the chair looking down at the tome on it. The young man looks toward the door once more, the sight of the old halfling woman long gone.

...

Before he realizes it Daeirth is walking through the streets, the warmth of the fire long left behind, his cloak wrapped around his shoulders against the damp sea air, the hood up over his stark white hair, a half hidden blade on his hip sways with each step. "Let's hope Shumba isn't too busy shall we Torothalion?" The elf is speaking to someone, a hand on the hilt of his blade, but no one else is around.

Someplace back at the Pearl and the Parrot a small book on military tactics sits comfortably on a red velet chair before a crackling fireplace, and a little serving girl holds a glass of wine for a customer that is no longer there.

OOC

Cut Scene to go and find Shumba, leaving the inn and book behind!

[Trogdor]

A quarter of an hour and a brisk walk finds Daerith in the Champion's District standing in front of a small house on Bloodcobble Way. Set in the shadow of the Arena, it serves as home to a variety of people who work there, one of whom Daerith thinks might be a good fellow to have at his side if there was trouble. Shumba might be half-savage, but as Daerith had learned during their several trips to the jungle, he was undoubtedly capable.

The elven wizard passes by the front door, heading through an alley to the meager back yard that Shumba's room overlooks. There, he's only half surprised to see Shumba outside, sitting under the yard's sole tree, doing something incomprehensible with a small piece of leather. He is surprised, however, to see Shumba's companion. Daerith had met the druid, Lorien Falcone, during a recent trip to the jungle with Shumba. At the time, the half-elf had seemed somewhat disdainful of the city. Perhaps his mind had changed since then. And perhaps that meant he would be available to help in the current situation.

[Vardaen]

Hanging on the low gate to the yard, Daerith leans forward and knocks on the inside of the wooden fence. "Hope I'm not disturbing." He has seen plenty of religous and arcane rituals in his time, but whatever Shumba is doing isn't likely either of them, so he is comfortable interrupting. The tall elf man is drapped in a black cloak around his black and white clothing that hugs his muscled frame tightly. Various items dangle from his belt, and several hooks and loops on his armor, all tools and components used in his spell casting. A hand on the hilt of a half hidden long blade that dangles from his belt leave the other to wave when its done knocking. Daerith Amlyn is a fairly pale, and white haired elf, some side effect of his magical upbringing or his studies at the Academy, either way he's never explained to to Shumba. "If you aren't too busy Shumba, I might have something that will interest you, and perhaps your Half Elf companion Lorien here." A smile breaks across his face, Who said you can't kill two birds with one stone. I have two birdies right here.

[Eanwulf]

The squat and muscular Shumba continues to fiddle about with the small piece of leather for several moments before finally reaching into one of his pockets, drawing forth a sizable amount of odd-looking herbs; dried and leafy in appearance. The savage half-orc then places the handful of herbs into the center of the patch of leather and then begins to fold and wrap it about the mysterious concoction. Once properly placed, the ranger then secures the new-found pouch with a leather drawstring and places it comfortably around his neck.

A greasy smile soon creeps across Shumba's face as he notices Daerith's approach. The rugged half-orc then leaps hurriedly to his feet, standing to his full height of five feet. As the last of the setting sun begins to finally disappear into the horizon, an eerie cat-like gleam suddenly begins to shimmer in Shumba's eyes and it would appear that the young huntsman has chosen to go bare-chested the previous day; his swarthy-skinned body glistening softly with perspiration.

Why on Oerth would he do that to himself Daerith ponders wildly as he gawks at the muscular half-breed walking towards him with its right arm outstretched in greeting. The wizard is of course referring to the numerous scar-like patterns that all but cover his companion's body. Some people... he continues.

"Gud mornin to joo Master Daertih," Shumba exclaims eventually as he shakes his friend's hand firmly, the huntsman's braided hair bouncing softly as he walks. Shumba quickly adds a rather uncomfortable-looking grin when he speaks - almost as if he were unknowingly claiming his dominance over something unseen - and the sharpened fangs that are bared during the brief endeavor can not help but remind Daerith of his companion's wild upbringing. Nevertheless, Shumba appears to be rather eager to see what his friend has to say and quickly replies. "Oh ja, really? I not busy! I just here talking to Lorien mon - he was kind 'nuff to bring me jub-jub root! Gud stuff mon!"

The rugged half-orc then waits for his companion to continue speaking and, as he does so, grabs the pouch that hangs about his neck and pulls out a small portion of the herb contained within and places it carefully between his bottom lip and gum. As Shumba waits, he eventually spits a mouthful of foul, brown-colored liquid upon the ground and then promptly wipes his lips and smiles disturbingly once more before continuing to wait for Daerith's reply.

OOC

Oh yeah mon! Shumba be dipping mon!

[Vardaen]

OOC

Trogdor said it was early evening, not early morning. I will continue on as if it was evening, assuming you'll edit.

With his eyes on the scars on Shumba's chest and back the young Daerith is silent a moment. The Half Orcs' strange accent has on occation caused some confusion between the two, and Daerith makes sure to pay extra attention so as not to get confused again like the first time. "It smells terrible Shumba, why would put that in your mouth?" His eyes track the spit to the ground, noting where not to step should he come inside the gate. "I may have some work for you.... for us." He glances at Lorien including the Half Elf in the statement if he's interested as well. "A friend of mine needs some help. I don't know much more than that, but her family is wealthy, and so likely the job pays wells. At the least we'll get a free dinner out of it tomorrow evening." He taps the top of the gate, leaning over it, resting on his hips on it.

[Eanwulf]

Shumba's eyes widen at the mention of Daerith's friend being wealthy. Quickly, he chimes in, "Oh ja, really mon?"

*Ptew* another large mouthful of spit soon hits the ground as he continues...

"Joo don't say...this broad's got a lot of money then eh...free dinner to boot? Oh ja mon, I dink dat Shumba gonna be there fa sure!"

Turning slightly to one side and doing his best to guesstimate Lorien's general response to Daerith's most generous offer, Shumba then ticks his head to one side as he smiles and winks, adding,

"Joo can count Lorien in too mon. He needs to get out more! Sides, all his hell-fire about trees and such is starting to get a bit old mon! We needs us a change of scenery!"

Seeing if his playful jest is enough to set his half-elven companion off on yet another fit about How the world is slowly being corrupted by man through his blatant disregard for even trying to coexist with Nature or not, Shumba quickly grows concerned by some other thought.

After several moments, he finally inquires. "Hey Daerith? Do joo want me to bring the torches tonight? I know how much these city-folk sure do likes it when I put on the ole 'song and dance' routine mon. Them suckers sure do pay a pretty coin for me not even knowing how to dance! Hah, gud stuff mon!"

*Ptew* "Mind your feet mon!"

[Vardaen]

Daerith takes a step back, the low fence gate between him and the spit on the ground that just splashed up against the fence. "That is the most filthy habbit I have ever seen, and you have quite a few of them Shumba. I would seriously suggest you leave your jub-jub root at home tomorrow if you want Lavinia to take your seriously for a job. I have a reputation with the woman, I don't want you recking it." Pulling his cloak around his frame as a wind grabs it and tries to pull it open he lets his hood fall from his head. "I have plenty of things to handle before dinner tomorrow Shumba, I doubt I'm up for another night on the town tonight." In truth my coin pouch can't handle it.

"You alright with this Lorien? I know Shumba can be a bit over eager in volunterring his friends for things. He once offered me to the Arena animal master as a willing practice target for the Manticore last season." He's smiling, the statement all in jest, but the point is made, Daerith wants to hear from the druid personally.