LOCATION:

Umbar, The Harbours: Merchant Harbour

The Bay of Umbar spreads before your eyes - a wide expanse of water, roughly circular in shape and landlocked on three sides. From the north it is flanked by a long promontory, strangely white in color - the King's Cliff. On the western side, the grim outline of Castle Umbar blots out half the sky.

All along the southeastern shore, the Merchant Harbours leisurely spread. Ships without count, of all sizes and under a multitude of banners dock, cast off and maneuver in the eastern part of the bay, growing timid only when passing by the War Harbour to the west that controls the entrance to the Bay of Umbar. Most of the docks and shipyards are further to the east, where the walls come to the very shore and prevent all access to the harbours except from the sea. The Seagate that leads into the city is to the south of you.

Contents:
* Renzlitha
* Adunabar
* Bakhadun

Obvious exits:
* Out To Sea <Northwest> leads to Bay of Umbar: Off Harbours.
* West leads to Umbar, The Harbours: War Harbour.
* South leads to Azrubatan: At the Seagate.

[Barzag:] Evening in Umbar's docks. Away in the west, the last rays of the sun pierce through layers of tattered cloud. The docks are quiet now - most of the cargoes for the day have already been unloaded. A chill wind blows off the sea, causing the one who comes down the hill from the Seagate to pull his cloak tightly about him. He is shorter than most Numenoreans, this one, though broad-shouldered, and even in this dim light his skin tone looks dark in comparison with the pale-skinned Dunedain. He goes to speak to the seaman in charge of the one remaining ship still unloading - perhaps he is offering to work? - but is answered only by a shake of the head. He turns away with a shrug and a fit of coughing.

[Renzlitha:] Behind some of the hovels lining the strand, a dark-looking man lurks. A cloak of darkest night wraps his slightly hunched form, and only his lower chin and long, spidery beard can be seen from 'neath the over-sized cowl crowning the villian's head. By his movement and posture, would could gather that the thief is very nervous, the outline of a hand gripping cold steel can be discerned. Renzlitha, or better known as the Wolf around these parts, tries to keep in the dark as he creeps up an alleyway between two of the more run-down looking shanties of the warf. The villian has his eyes on the cloaked workmen as he walks along the wharf, a little bit of a smile creasing the grime, previoulsy frozen in a dark scowl. Keeping in the shadows, the now paranoid Wolf tosses a piece of wood at Barzag and whistles a little, apparently to try and get his attention.

[Barzag:] The Hillman Barzag - for the cloaked worker is indeed he - turns as something falls at his feet, amber eyes narrowing as he peers into the near-darkness between the shanties, catching the outline of a black-cloaked figure and the glint of steel. Barzag's own features are visible as he turns - the short, dark beard that covers his chin cannot hide the twisted lip that makes him so readily identifiable. And it would seem that Renzlitha is not the only nervous one - Barzag glances up and down the docks, staying stubbornly where he is for the moment - though at least he does not walk away.

[Renzlitha:] Renzlitha's face goes back to its former scowl as the Hillman seems reluctant to take his offer. Hiding the steel of his sword a little better, the villian trys positive reinforcment. Drawing a good-sized florin from his belt, he tosses the gold at Barzag's feet instead. Maybe that would get his attention, because of course yelling wouldn't do...the walls have ears, and the sky has eyes....

[Barzag:] Though surely the sky does not rain coins? Barzag peers into the alleyway again, twisted lips pressed tightly together. For a long moment this is the only reaction that can be seen - and then with a shrug, the Hillman bends to pick the coin up, glancing round to see if he is being observed. Holding the florin gingerly, he moves quietly towards the mouth of the alleyway - only to halt there, shoulders shaking as he tries to suppress another coughing fit. Once he has managed to draw breath, he hisses in a nasal whisper, accented, yet clear enough, "Who is there? What do you want? If it is coin," he gestures to the florin, "then you have and I do not."

[Renzlitha:] Renzlitha seems a little relieved, at least the tedious fellow is close enough to talk to. Drawing a little more into the light to be, as he hopes, less threatning, the villian whispers, "If you come in here with me, more of that may be had. I have a proposition to discuss." With those words, spoken in a silky voice, he creeps a little farther into the alleyway, waiting for the Hillman to follow. For added emphasis, the theif jiggles something under his cloak, the sound can be identified as a pouch of something valuble..

[Barzag:] Renzlitha's appearance is hardly reassuring - yet at least he does not seem to be planning violence. Barzag's eyes narrow at the man's words, suspicion still uppermost in his expression. "You have use for one such as I am? I will work for coin - maybe you need one to lift or carry goods? This I can do, if it is during the night." He stands patiently as he awaits the reply, feet planted firmly apart.

[Renzlitha:] Renzlitha grins a little, one hand tugging thoughtfully at the cobweb beards snaking down his torso. Speaking in a low and patient voice (although it is hard to muster such a tone over so much nervousness), Renzlitha replies, "Yes, I have use for you, Barzag. Don't be to surprised, I know much about someone before I dare meet them. Someone...you used to work for recommended you for a certain job that I have need of finishing, but I cannot do it myself. It requires none of the menial labor you may be somewhat accustomed to, but I think that you can get your mind into a sufficient state of thought to cary this out...you would be payed well of course, but we cannot discuss it here, come with me, and we shall talk. For what it is worth to you , I am known as the Wolf..

[Barzag:] The Hillman's eyes widen as his name is used by this stranger he has never seen before, and a scowl flickers across his face for a moment, but the lure of coin clearly wins out over his mistrust. "Very well," he replies simply, "I will c-" His words break off as he coughs once more, forcing a hand to his mouth to stifle the sound, so that he will not attract the attention of the dockworkers. He gestures with the other hand for Renzlitha to lead on, eying him speculatively.

[Renzlitha:] Renzlitha nods knowingly to himself as the Hillman finally seems to be realed in hook, line, and sinker. He gives a mere swing of one gloved fist to point at a door in the crooked wall of one of the shanties, looking both ways warily, the villian opens the door and sneaks in, lighting a small oil lamp to give some light to the dismal surroundings of the dank smelling enclosure. He whispers out the door, "Close the door one your way in, no need for enemiy...er...prying eyes to see to much."

[Barzag:] Barzag follows, gaze darting this way and that as he inspects the dank-smelling hovel, one hand holding the door open. Finally, satisfied that there is no-one else lurking in this place (or at least, no-one that can be seen), he obediently lets the door fall shut and releases the latch. With a sigh he looks back to Renzlitha, addressing the man in a hoarse voice. "You have quiet now, and ..secretness?" His tone turns doubtful as he utters this last word. However, he shrugs dismissively - doubtless the meaning is clear enough - and continues, "What is this task that you wish me to do?"

[Renzlitha:] During this entire discourse between villian and laborer, Renzlitha was musing upon weather or not he could trust Barzag. The fellow seemed good enough for the task, perhaps a decent amount of gold would increase his trustiness....With a shrug, the villian draws removes something large and made of a fine vellum. This of course being a scroll, and one of particular import. The thing was secured tightly by a few thin chords, the original wax seal being broken. "This is a very important document that must get itself into the right hands. I would have you deliver it to someone for me. If it got into the...shall we say...wrong hands, it could be very bad for the person I would have you send it too. There is a merchant, of the Arnari, who lives not far from here. If oyu take it to him, then I will pay you half of this bag of gold now, and half when you return to me with the job done, and no slip-ups....What do you say?"

[Barzag:] Barzag looks at the scroll, a brief flicker of interest in his amber eyes. Then he gazes questioningly back at Renzlitha - just how important must this document be, if its delivery will be paid for in gold? "To deliver - this I can do," he says eventually, dark head dipping in a nod. "I can take the message, and seek this ..Arnare, his name was? But if he wishes not to see me ..." He shrugs. "Many wish not to be near me." A hint of bitterness creeps into his tone there, masked by another cough. Drawing breath, the Hillman adds, a hint of suspicion in his tone, "Why do you not deliver this thing, then? What else must I know?"

[Renzlitha:] Renzlitha tosses both the bound scroll and a half-sized sack of coin onto the small table the oil lamp occupies. Crossing his arms and standing up strait, the villian tries to make himself look bigger than he is. Ignoring the Hillman's thoughts on the social status of his people, Renzlitha answers in a somewhat colder and more menacing voice than he had thus far used, "This merchant will not care if you are one of the mystical elves that some old women with addled brains speak of, as long as you give him the document. I cannot do it, for I am...not in a position to allow me such freedoms. That is all that I will say on the matter. On the Azrubatan south of here you will find a large stone house, with a statue of a lion in the garden, if you look closely you cannot miss it. Simply leave the document with the porter at the garden postern, they will know what to do. And...do not try to open the scroll, for the merchant /will/ notice...report back to me when you are done if you wish to have the rest of your gold."

[Barzag:] Barzag looks the man in the eye now, his own narrowing at the hint of coldness there ... then shrugs, the right side of his mouth curling up in what passes for a smile. "To deliver to the porter - that is all?" His tone is almost contemptuous. "Very well." He reaches forward for the scroll, and the small sack of coin. He muses aloud, "But how did you - " then evidently thinks better of whatever the question was, for he trails off into silence, having learned long ago that it is sometimes not good to know all things.

[Renzlitha:] Renzlitha nods knowingly as Barzag trails off, a disarming smile creeping across his greasy features. The villian takes a seat on a low stool near the wall of the shanty, popping a small peice of some dark jerky into his mouth. Speaking around it, but still quite discernable, "Yes, sometimes it /is/ better to not know certain things. Besides, what use would a messenger have for knowlegde of what he is doing, you are merely my hired man. Now be off with you, and be back before sun-up if you can. I do not have much patience for people who fail me...." Here, his mind wonders off to the oaf Furz. Surely a guard would arrive around here searching for him at any time. This thought causes Renzlitha to wear once again his nervous look...

[Barzag:] Barzag reaches for the latch. "I go now - it is dark, and it is more easy to avoid others. Many choose not to notice one like me, anyway." He grins his lop-sided smile at that, no doubt having worked out at least one reason that Renzlitha has selected him as errand-runner. He glances back in time to notice the man's nervous expression, but of course he cannot know the cause. "I will be back to this place soon enough, do not doubt that," he adds firmly. Clearing his throat again as the chill, damp air of the docks hits him, Barzag steps outside into the night.

Participants:

BARZAG

For many, their first impression of Barzag is of a person of little importance in the world. His swarthy skin proclaims him a foreigner to Umbar, one of the race of Men known as Hillmen. At about six feet in height, he is taller than most of his kind, and this is complemented by a strong build; his well-muscled frame and calloused hands show that he is no stranger to hard work. Indeed, his shoulders are slightly stooped as if from carrying heavy loads. A mass of dark hair hangs to just above shoulder level, shadowing his face, and he wears a short beard, usually kept neatly trimmed. It cannot, however, hide this man's main distinguishing feature - a malformed lip, cloven and twisted so that his mouth appears to be set in a perpetual sneer. Above this, his features are evenly balanced - a long, straight nose, and a pair of amber eyes set beneath dark brows, bitterness all too often visible within their depths. A faint bruise can be seen at his right temple.

His clothes are scruffy, nondescript: trousers of some dark material, fading in many places, and a tunic of brown cloth that was obviously of good quality when new but is now worn and threadbare. The sharp-eyed might notice some sort of mark on his upper right arm, half-hidden by the short sleeve of his tunic. On his feet are a pair of scuffed leather moccasins. And he has one more item of clothing - clearly a valued possession. A grey woolen cloak, old but still serviceable, protects his form in inclement weather, and is carried rolled up and slung across the back at other times.

RENZLITHA

You see a man that looks as if he has spent to much time living a covert life in the forsaken slums of some large city. In fact, this figure is such. Renzlitha, in his mid forties, stands at about six foot, with short, unkempt frizzy hair waving with the slightest breeze. This goes well with the long, thin black beard that forms a wavey trail down the man's chest. His large, greasy forhead slopes down to a sharp hawk nose and ends in an abrupt chin, giving him the appearance of some kind of missing link. Two small, deep-set black eyes scan the area around him carefully, for this villian-for-hire knows he has many enemies. He wears nothing upon his head, so that a slight bald spot can be seen if you look from above. From his neck down nothing can be seen but a complete fur cloak of deepest brown. His left arm can usually be seen twirling the beard back and forth in its fingers, apparently a habit of the Renzlitha when in thought. The other cannot be seen for the cloak, but if you look closely its outline can be gleaned clutching at something, perhaps a weapon? If you should be lucky enough to see beeath the cloak, a jet leather jerkin and matching leggings is all you would see.