The Games People Play - Igrainne and Menace

It is a sunny day in Port Ffirst. The cries of merchants and seagulls mingle with the humdrum of commerce, composing the pleasing cacophony that is life. As Menace enters the Seashank, he quickly scans the room and it's patrons and spots who he was looking for. In a shady corner sits a young elvish girl, dark skinned and with the hood of her cloak drawn deeply over her face, almost hiding the telltale white strands that betray her drowish heritage. Just where she was supposed to be. Just as his little birds had reported.

Menace makes his way to the bar and orders two cups of cloaker milk, then wanders over to the corner table.

"Why hello my friend! Are you new in town? Welcome to Port Ffirst, the jewel of the Shield Coast! May I join you?" he says with a smile. He sets the two cups down on the table in front of her, letting her choose. "Cloaker milk! I thought you might appreciate it".

"Uh, sure," the girl replies. She hesitantly grabs a cup and sniffs it.

Menace sits down opposite to her. "Thank you, you are too kind. May I introduce myself, I am a true-born son of Port Ffirst; protector of the weak, advocate of the downtrodden, king of beggars and prince of thieves; some slanderous, nay, libelous tongues! have called me a Menace - but to my friends, it is just Mace. And I can tell - we will be the very best of friends..." he says with a smile.

"Riiiiiiight," she drawls, immediately sceptical of the tiefling. "I'm Igrainne, and I'm getting the distinct feeling that you want something from me. So, what is it?"

"Sharp as a blade you are!" Menace laughs, "don't worry, there is no sinister intent here, I assure you. Pardon me if I appear forward, but you have the looks of someone familiar with the Underdark? Is that correct? I have a certain interest, curiosity shall we say, in all things rare, and this goes double for information. But information is only useful to those that can understand it. I seek understanding. And in this particular case, I wish to gain understanding of Undercommon. Do you think that is something you could help me with?" he says, giving her his best winning smile.

"That depends. How fast of a learner are you? I don't exactly have the time for an extensive tutoring programme."

"Oh, not to worry, I am an aggressively fast learner. I have already learned the fundamentals, but if you wouldn't mind meeting here for a few hours a day to practice, if you u are staying in the city? Dinner and drinks will be on me." he says with a wink.

Igrainne mulls over his proposal, taking a small sip of the cloaker milk. "Well, as long as you're buying the drinks," she decides after a moment. "But I do require a payment."

"Of course! What do you have in mind? A favor for a favor maybe? That is the most valuable things of all, I have found!" he says smilingly, a twinkle in his obsidian black eye, "Or something more mundane and physical?" and makes a mocking frown as he says so.

"No." She leans across the table and looks intently into Menace's eyes. There is a grave seriousness etched into her fine, vaguely aristocratic features. "You said you deal in information. Whatever information you find on the Underdark-dwellers -- be it the drow, the duergar, or even the Vorstborn dwarves -- I want to hear it."

Menace smiles, showing his teeth, "I like you Igrainne, you have a sense for what is important", he says, "yes, this is a bargain well struck. Any information on the Underdark I come across, you shall learn it. My little birds sing many songs, and soon, they shall sing in Undercommon as well...", he says, taking a careful sip of the cloaker milk. "Thank you, this will be a mutually profitable investment. Do feel free to seek me out when you are in Port Ffirst, I am sure we will have much to talk about. Now then, shall we start...?"

"Good. So we shall." She rests her back against her chair. "As you may know, Undercommon is the trade language of the Underdark. It is most influenced by the Drowic dialect of Elvish, with some borrowed words from Duergar Dwarvish, Svirfneblin Gnomish, and others. If you're proficient with Elvish, this should be easy for you..." Igrainne trails off for a brief moment, as if coming to a realisation. She reaches into her bag and fishes out what appears to be an octagonal board and a large leather pouch, placing them on the table The board is made of zurkhwood, painted dark grey with white lines forming a spider web. She opens the pouch and spills its contents on the board. Eight figurines, half of them carved from onyx and the other half from carnelian, and a pair of six-sided dice come clattering out. "I figured we should make this fun. I've been looking for someone to play this with. It's called sava, or as surfacers like to call it, drow chess."

"Fascinating..." Menace mumbles, his eyes wide, "...I do have a weakness for games, and mastered many myself, but not this. Do go on!"

"Sava is a game about a feud between two noble houses. The Undercommon word for 'noble' is uli." She divides the pieces by colour and arranges them on the board, then picks up one that resembles a brutish orc, its protruding tusks comically exaggerated to be nearly as long as its head. "This is the pawn, the weakest piece, the orc slave fighter. Urop. Slave."

Menace's eyes dart over the board, taking in the figures and the layout. "That makes sense, it mirrors social hierarchies as practiced in Drow society, does it not? I have heard it is quite strict and severe."

"Correct. You're quite sharp indeed." Igrainne's fingers tap on the head of the remaining pieces--the elven-looking ones--as she continues, "Here we have the warrior, sargtlin, who ranks below the wizard, faern, who, in turn, is below the priestess, yatharil. But they all answer to the corian--leader--of the house, the mother." She holds up a figurine of a female elf with lavish head adornments. "The Drowic word for 'mother' is ilhar, and it is the same in Undercommon. The game ends when one ilhar is al. Dead."

"Ah yes, the noble houses are led by their women; And they fight no less fiercely than human men would under the sun! We are all quite alike, when it comes down to it." Menace muses, with a slight smile, drawing his own conclusions. "I assume this is a game of strategy, is it not? How one house, one matriarch, may best another? To prove her superiority and right to rule? Charming social cue!" he rubs his hands in excitement. "Well than, shall we play?"

"Hold your horses," she purrs. "Yes, it is a game of strategy, except in one aspect." She places the two ivory dice on the palm of Menace's hand. The faces are blank except for one, which bears the engraving of a black spider. "On their turn, a player can forego moving a piece in favour of rolling these dice. If two spiders emerge, they can take control of one of their opponent's pieces to destroy another one within its range. The dice represent the element of chaos in life and how the drow expect betrayal at every turn, due to their lack of trust. Khaless." Igrainne enunciates the last word with dripping irony and throws a glance at the tiefling before her.

A slight giggle escapes Menace' throat at that, ignoring the badly hidden barb and leaning right into it instead, "this is a game to my liking, and so very true. You cannot trust anyone on sight, unless you understand their motivation. And even then, chaos gets to roll as well." He laughs at the pleasure of the realization. "Don't worry about me, my motivation is plain to see here. I wonder what it is that you seek though? Information, that is plain, but to what end? To settle a score? Gain influence in the city beneath yourself? No, I do not think so..." he trails of, looking at her. "I shall enjoy following your pursuits, my friend. This is the beginning of a mutually profitable friendship, I can already tell."

"Respectfully, what I seek is none of your business, abbil." There is that ironic tone again, leaving Menace to wonder if it's just Igrainne being sardonic or if the language itself has this attitude towards terms of friendship and intimacy. "But yes, I do look forward to the...fruits of our partnership. Now, ori'gato udossa jivvin. Let us play."