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[El Mahdi]

El-Mahdi al Saqir ibn Hamoud Half-Elf Ranger (Human Bedine/Wood Elf)

I prefer a very dark, rich, and strong tea, served in a small crystal and mythryl cup. I use the blend perfected by my long lost Bedine clan, taught to me by my father. I cultivate my own because the teas of the Dalelands are just too weak and flavorless. The only other place I've had a comparable tea is in Turmish (although I've heard promising stories of Zhakaran tea).

After completing a long patrol of the Border Forrest (and saving some foolish adventurers yet again), I return to my home on the edge of the Anauroch (it's covered with grass now, unbelievable), and relax with a cup of hot tea. Every sip reminds me of the desert of my youth. I close my eyes and smell the flinty dryness of the lost Anauroch. I remember the first time my father allowed me a cup of tea. I recall growing up in an Elven village on the edge of the Border Forrest and Anauroch. I learned the way of the Desert from my father and learned the way of the forrest from my mother. With every sip, I once again see their faces and hear their laughter. As I reach the bottom of the cup, I taste the bitter dregs of the crushed leaves that slipped through the filter. The bitterness reminds me how my parents and village died, and how my clan was destroyed before I was born. I taste the bitter flavor of revenge unfulfilled. The Zhents will pay dearly for what they've done. With the last sip, my vow of vengence is renewed.