Amber DRPG - Setting Things Right IC

[kc0bbq]

Quenching the flame of bold Rebellion,
Even with the Rebel’s Blood. But what mean I
To speak so true at first?

Somewhere in Shadow – Front of a Snow Covered Convent

From the surrounding pine forest a rider approaches. The moonlight, reflecting off the knee deep snow, casts everything it touches in a deep blue glow. It is near midnight, and the air is sharp and cold. The rider’s eyes, his only feature exposed to the night air, are shadowed and sunken. They are the eyes of a defeated man. He carries a large bundle of furs on his lap. Wisps of breath escape the furs.

The rider’s mount, a magnificent white horse with a single horn protruding from just above its eyes, walks without any guidance towards the small convent’s door. It paws at the door with an unshod hoof.


Convent interior

A handful of nuns attend a sleeping young woman.

“’It’s not a natural fever’, he said.”

“Just keep her comfortable. It’s the least we can do.”

“He was generous enough, and he certainly wasn’t in any condition to care for her.”

“That was a unicorn, wasn’t it? A real unicorn.”

Then they have learned of me. From Rumor’s Tongues,
The bring smooth-comforts-false, worse than true-wrongs.

[kc0bbq]

At some point in your daily activity:

With a rainbow flash of Trump energy, a young man appears before you. His appearance is totally unremarkable other than that he is dressed in a manner contemporary to couriers in your location.

"Excuse me, I have a delivery for you."

He offers a velvet pouch. Once the delivery is made, he bows, and then disappears in a quick flash of rainbow light.

Inside the pouch is a rosewood box with a simple, but skillfully crafted latch. It contains a Trump of a mountain valley lined with vineyards with a plain black reverse, and a roll of parchment.

The parchment reads:

Kinsman,

I would like to speak with you. There is not much time, and your elders hold to grudges that should otherwise be settled. Diedre is alive and I can not save her alone.

Branden Corey

[Wiz]

Arthur

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Arthur is standing in a corridor of his mother's palace when the strange visitor appears. Fascinating. A trump obviously, but not of me for I felt no contact. He looks down at the box. It could be a trump trap. Even if it is not, why should I trust the word of one whom the elders consider mad, evil and dead. He walks along the corridor, heading toward his aunt's room. She should be told... He pauses because he suddenly notices a side corridor which he doesn't remember. He looks down the long hallway and sees countless mirrors lining the corridor, different though from the usual ones he is familiar with. Well, well, well. Interesting timing on this, and not a coincidence I'm guessing. The candles that adorn the walls have their flames flicker in unison as if beckoning him to enter. He sighs. Best not to put it off. He steps forward into the corridor of mirrors and walks along it.

Arthur pauses at one mirror which ripples enticingly and he sees his aunt, beneath the rippling surface, as though she were just under the surface of a wind-disturbed pond. Her hands emerge from the water/mirror, holding forth the sword. "You want me to take it now? I know you said it was to be mine one day. Is this the day?" The green-eyed figure gazes at him through the surface, but indicates nothing. Arthur reaches out and takes the sword into his hand. The metal as smooth as polished glass, the shining surface of the blade flashing with golden filigree. He holds the killer in his hand and knows it is truly the sword he has seen but once before. He draws his own, less-remarkable blade, and places Excalibur in his scabbard, for the two weapons are of a size. He takes the note and slices the blade through it, so the paper is impaled upon it and then he hands it to the figure in the mirror. "Somehow I don't think I'll get to tell you in person where I'm going."

He continues down the corridor and pauses again at another mirror, the torches to either side of it flickering with sudden urgency. He tilts his head, looking at the face in the mirror. At first he is looking at himself. Black-hair somewhat unruly, pale skin, eyes as bright as emeralds or the grass of the emerald isle. Then the face shivers and changes, til it looks to be a rather comely maiden, who seems to be regarding herself and her own features, all of which are quite pleasing. Suddenly her eyes seem to see past her mirror and look into his own. "Who are you?" She seems startled. "I am Arthur." She pauses, considering this. "Who are you?" She seems uncertain, but finally whispers, "Gwennivere." The torches go out and the mirror goes black. I wonder who she is supposed to be? He turns and continues, but finds the corridor ends abruptly with a very large mirror. In the mirror he sees a familiar chamber, but the pattern depicted is drawn in reverse. He sees a figure standing in the center of the pattern and he sighs. "Again? Is that the only way?" The mirror abruptly seems to flip, and instead he is looking at a very large, locked door. He turns about and there is the pattern beneath Kolvir, mirror image to the one he knows so well.

"I suppose it will be interesting to try this from the other perspective." He steps forward onto the beginning of the pattern and feels the current flowing through him. The pressure builds as he moves toward the first veil and he presses forward, the forger's hammer beating the flaws out of him. At least in Rebma the water keeps you cool while you go. He continues to press forward, to the second veil... to the final veil... and finally emerges at the center of the pattern. Why the heck did it want me to do that again? He ponders for a moment then nods slowly, taking out the box and opening it. He looks upon the card without forming a link to it and wills the pattern to take him to the place depicted thereon. I wonder why just using the trump was the less preferred route. It would have been much eas...

[TroyXavier]

Alana

Alana contemplated the message. She wouldn't just do this unless there was something in it for her. But being owed a favor was often useful. Perhaps then, she could use out of agreeing to this mission. She pulled up her trump deck and nodded. "If they want me, they can have my services, but I don't work cheap." With that she pulled out a card to contact someone to take her to Branden.

[potatocubed]

Owain

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Owain spends several moments just staring at the arrival and departure points of the mystic courier. Outside the window of his library, the surf can be heard rolling gently against the shore.

"What an unusual method of transit..." he murmurs. He carefully slides a folded piece of paper into the book he was reading, sets it aside, and reads the parchment three times. He folds the note into the shape of a crab while he digests the information.

He takes the trump card in hand and turns it between his fingers for a while. Finally, he gets up from his chair with a sigh and digs through a drawer packed with cards, dice, poker chips, and other assorted gaming paraphenalia. At the bottom, wrapped in leather and an incongruous lavender ribbon, is the exact set of cards he is looking for.

With a little shuffling, Owain uncovers the cards he is looking for. Deidre and Brand. Starting with his aunt, he tries each trump for a response.

[GamorreanHC]

Odo

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"Well, that was interesting. I need to update security that it's not okay for people to randomly trump in and hand things off to people. It disrupts the gambling. Speaking of which, I'll see your 20 gray and raise you an obvious trump to an Amber conspiracy," says the Gambler in purple. The others at the table try not to show their discomfort behind their gambling faces. Either he's totally insane and bluffing, or he's got an unbeatable hand this round.
"Too rich for my blood, Odo. I'm guessing a trump of this variety is going to be worth more than a few gray," says the man with the impeccable facial hair in the red.
"Your point is well taken, my friend. We shouldn't be gambling things of value at this table. I suppose I'll have to withdraw the offer," Odo states matter of factly. The others nod, not because the object isn't of value, but this was supposed to be a friendly game. An almost palpable tension from the other denizens of the room is felt; everyone has been watching ever since the stranger arrived to drop the package. Obviously there will be others who would like a part of the action. "And it wouldn't be fair to the ones who wouldn't a piece of the action not sitting at our table. So unless someone cares to call me."

"Take the pot. I need to get going."

-----------------------------------------------------------------

Several rounds of cards later, Odo retires to his office room overlooking the baccarat floor. He pulls his deck of trumps from his belt. Looking it over he selects one of the locals who knows a little about the subject at hand.
Come on, O. Pick up. We've got things to discuss."

[kc0bbq]

Owain

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Diedre's trump cools slightly. While there is no contact made, a strange, lingering mental image echoes through your mind. You see a small window and a face, blurred by the uneven surface of the old glass, just visible in the darkness beyond it.

Brand's trump is dead and lifeless. To your knowledge, it had been behaving like Diedre's - it would show the slightest hint of contact, but no response.

Odo

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After a few moments of concentration contact is made. Seems a bit surlier than normal.

"Oh, yes, what can I do for you?" he says.

Arthur

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There is an odd sensation, almost a hesitation as you appear in deMerci. A peculiar, musty smell, like an old book, accompanies this.

For those travelling to the location on the trump:
Shadow deMerci - Port Celine, High Street Commons

You arrive in a small common area surrounded by Victorian style shops and stalls. It has a manufactured feel to it, though, as if it were the set of a movie. It is clean, and despite the large number of horse drawn carriages around, doesn't smell the way you'd expect, either. The village stretches down a hillside towards a picturesque harbor filled with wooden vessels. Beyond the village is a small pass, giving way to the valley appearing on the trump.

A trio of large wineshops seem to dominate commerce here.

The driver of a fancy coach nods silently to you, waiting patiently.
Looking up towards the pass you see the image from the trump,

[GamorreanHC]

Odo

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"Hello, hello. I've got a little information to pass onto you. Seems like an Amber issue." says the man in purple with an impossible smile on his face. "Some fellow Trumped into My Casino and dropped this package off with me. I got a nice little Trump and a note from a certain Brandon Corey. I thought I'd pass along the information along with a copy of the message. I want it known that I'm not keeping anyone important out of the loop on this. So I'm passing along notice to everyone else through notaries and couriers, et cetera, et cetera, et cetera. But for you, I thought I'd offer this information personally as a matter of respect."

Holding up a piece of paper, Odo continues "Sounds like a rescue mission, or a trap, or both. Probably both."

[Wiz]

Arthur

The young Prince of Rebma is dressed in a black with gold trim, his cloak fastened with an elaborate pin, displaying his personal symbol, the Pendragon. He steps up to the coach, and examines the driver carefully, noting his features, dress, and particularly smell. This place has an unreal feel to it... like I'm inside a trump, or from the smell, an old musty tapestry or book... I'd better watch my step. He gazes into the driver's eyes. "Where is it you are commissioned to take me?"

[namo]

Aurora

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Aurora is seated at her mahogany desk when the intruder barges in. She prepares to defend herself... but it turns out to be a simple delivery. Still, the way it was done is most peculiar. She considers the pouch for a time, then opens it.

She reads the letter twice but there doesn't seem to be a cypher, and she cannot recognize the writing. She sets it aside and goes back to what she was doing - penning letters to various merchants - which gives her some time to think. When she is done, she stares at the Trump for a time.

She calls out : "Kyril !" but there is no answer. She goes from room to room looking for her husband only to find him in the courtyard training a squire. "Kyril, I need you for a bit." Smiling at her, he salutes the young boy hastily before wiping his face and following her back in.

She shows him the letter and the Trump. He raises his eyebrows in question, always the patient listener. "This was delivered by a messenger who Trumped in and right back out. I don't know what to think of it but I have to investigate. Please take care of things in my absence ; I'll keep in touch but you know what to do if something happens."

He can't keep the concern from his voice when he replies : "Aurora, are you sure you should go alone ? I can come..."
"It's fine" she interrupts him with a tender smile that takes the sting out of it "that's exactly the kind of family business I don't want you involved in."

She kisses him lightly on the lips before whirling away. She takes her cloak from the hanger and puts it on, retrieves her staff and her dagger from her room. "Goodbye, hon."
She concentrates on the Trump and disappears in a rainbow.

Left behind, Kyril sighs as he runs a hand through his hair. He makes sure he has his small deck at his belt before going back out and resume the fencing.

---

Aurora is extremely alert when her trip ends, but there is a remarkable lack of an immediate threat, so she relaxes visibly. She considers the current company.

Aurora is tall and well-proportioned ; her face is more ordinary than beautiful but her green eyes and easy smile radiate charm. Her black wavy hair reach her shoulders ; she has freckles on and around her nose. She is wearing a green and gold cloak (the hood is not up), below which one can spot a dark green and black dress.

There is someone waiting for her... and this lord who like her clearly does not belong here. She approaches slowly, a smile on her face. "I believe we are headed the same way, sir... Oh, Prince Arthur ! Greetings." She bows her head briefly (at precisely the right angle dictated by protocol).

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Ambassador of Amber to Begma and known as a brilliant diplomat, Aurora is also famous for her musical talents (she is an accomplished dancer as well). She is married to Kyril of Samaduro, a minor noble from Shadow Eothane, in the Golden Circle.

She is mostly seen in Amber at social gatherings involving diplomats... or family. Among the Elders, she seems to spend most of her time with Random, Gerard, Flora, Bleys and Fiona.

[Wiz]

Arthur

The young man turns, hearing a voice. There is no mistaking who he is, for one who has visited the reflection of Amber in the sea. He is Arthur, son of Moire, crowned prince of Rebma. He looks puzzled for a moment, as if trying to place the woman's face, then smiles. "Lady Aurora. It has been some time. What brings you to this place?"

[namo]

Aurora

"Would you believe me if I said 'Chance' ?
...
No, I didn't think so. In truth, a peculiar social call motivates my visit. I am guessing you may be here for a similar reason." Several thoughts cross her mind in rapid succession but she voices none of them.

"You, me, a third party. This is already a family reunion ! Tell me, how fare things in Rebma ? I haven't had the occasion to go there in a long time." All at once it seems as if she has transformed the scene, as if they're in standing in a salon (or any setting that would make one feel at ease, really) rather than a small town - it's an uncanny talent she probably picked from Flora.

[Voshkod]

Bryce

To the cacophony of ticking, Bryce considered the Trump, and the message. How very curious, he thought. That Father would seek me out now. Or is it a trap? Certainly there are those that could wish to kill the son of Brand.

He walked over to the Mainspring, and began to turn the great Key of Tock. Twenty feet of cold forged iron, it turned ponderously, taking his full strength. The Mainspring coiled, tightening. Bryce pushed until it could wind no more. Then he pulled the switch.

Tock sprung to life. Clockwork birds began to flap, suspended from nearly-invisible strings. Gears drove flowers to slowly open their petals for a clockwork sun, as fractal clouds ticked across the sky. Clockwork people began to move, a clockwork war broke out on the other side of the shadow. Everything ticked as the gears meshed and life ratcheted to predestined conclusion on Tock.

Hours passed and Bryce watched the gears rotate, waiting for a surprise that never came. Well, then. He rose and flipped the switch again, and the world stopped. Birds froze in the sky, people froze in the middle of living, loving, killing.

Bryce took out the new Trump, studied it for a moment, and stepped through to Port Celine.

[potatocubed]

Owain

Owain arrives in Port Celine via the shining rainbow of trump transport. He is a lean, academic-looking man with dark green hair, dressed elegantly in lighter shades of green and a pair of wire-framed spectacles (an affectation - his vision needs no correcting). In place of the usual sword, he wears a pair of long knives.

"Hello Arthur," he says, not really paying attention. "It's been a while. Aurora, you look as lovely as ever. What a strange place..."

[Wiz]

Arthur

The young prince in black looks thoughtful; frowning, one eyebrow arching higher and his lips pursed. "It seems we all are here as kinsmen to the same individual, or one who would use his name. I'm curious, I know that he was a trump artist of some repute, but is anyone here familiar with Brand's style? Could anyone say for sure if these trumps were his work?"

[Voshkod]

Bryce

A slight youth, with looks favoring the red-heads of the family (Brand, Fiona, Bleys), Bryce shrugs. "The work could be of Brand, tho' he had enough talent, I'd wager, to imitate another's style."

The steps around to stroke the muzzle of the horse tethered to the carriage. "I feel somewhat better, oddly enough, to find such a number of cousins here. Were this a trap, they would try to take us one by one. Unless, of course, they have such power that they aren't concerned by our numbers." He smiles slightly.

He stands somewhat apart from the others, dressed in shades of grey, ranging from silver to twilight.

[namo]

Aurora

"Greetings, Owain. And Bryce." She turns back to Arthur, a half-smile of mock triumph on her face. "A family reunion, like I said. You are all too rare in Amber, my lords."

"Even if those Trumps are Brand's, it would prove little. Also, I have seen some of Brand's old notes but I never trained in handwriting analysis: so I couldn't really tell if the letter I got was his or not." Observing carefully their lack of reaction, she can easily deduce they got a similar parcel via Trump-mail.

"More subtle characters will disapprove, but I would simply wait until we meet the man." She gestures at the coach.

"We may all suspect there is a familial specialty round the corner" she feels reluctant to actually utter the unseemly word 'trap' "but a person who took such pains to gather us would not have anything final in mind."
Not immediately, anyway.

Some would say she speaks too much...

After inquiring briefly about the place (Shadow) they are in, she climbs into the carriage, still grasping a staff with metallic reflections.

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OOC: I changed her speech color - dark grey didn't work very well. Also, I'll be away for a few hours so just assume she makes witty comments and nods and smiles.

[Voshkod]

Bryce

"Ladies first," Bryce says with a half-bow as Aurora boards the carriage. He climbs in after her. "Come on, my cousins. Someone's gone through a lot of trouble to get us all here; it wouldn't be polite to keep them waiting."

[namo]

Aurora

"What did the message you got talk about ?" she asks around in a conversational tone.

[Voshkod]

Bryce

"It spoke of the fate of Aunt Dierdre, holding for the possibility that her fall was not as terminal as some would have thought," Bryce said carefully. He was a bit uncomfortable around family, as usually, always expecting someone to exact revenge for Dierdre's fall on him.

[Wiz]

Arthur

The prince nods and smiles to his other two cousins. "Bryce... Owain." He looks at Owain, "Your mother keeps saying she's hoping you'll visit soon, perhaps you should give her a trump call sometime." He looks around, "I wonder if anyone else got the same message."

[namo]

Aurora

"Why, I believe I got the exact same message you did, Arthur."

She sticks her head out the window : "Driver, how many more were you told to expect ?"

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OOC: If people are not posting because of the forum lags, let's wait. Otherwise, let's move on ! The mysterious benefactor can always send another coach (with DM fiat and/or scrying, perhaps (s)he already did).

Feel free to ignore the above suggestions, of course.

[Wiz]

Arthur

The prince of Rebma nods, "Good question that." He looks out his window at the place and squints, "Does this place seem... I don't know how to say it exactly... unreal to you?"

[namo]

Aurora

Aurora seems a bit startled, then she composes herself. "Unreal ? No, I can't say I notic..." She stops, considers. "But it's an interesting warning - I will keep it in mind." She nods to Arthur.

She is actually enjoying herself: she has mostly seen her current companions in social settings where the discussions were more shallow - it is a good opportunity to get to know them.

[Wiz]

Arthur

The young mand nods to himself as if he is confirming a suspicion. Then his expression relaxes, "Well, I suppose we shall see what our host has in mind for us soon." He glances at Aurora, "So how go matters in Begma?"

[Voshkod]

Bryce

"What does unreal mean?," he asked. "We're not in Amber, so of course it's unreal. If anything, the place is . . . new. Very new. Someone spun this for us quite recently."

[potatocubed]

Owain

"Not so much new as... incomplete," muses Owain. "Or possibly just impressionistic. The broad strokes are in place, but the details lack resolution."

[GamorreanHC]

Odo

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OOC: I will edit this post as necessary when the GM gets online. In the mean time, we’ll assume that I got green lighted to join the adventure plus or minus something to do on the side. You know how those shady fellows are.

Three men come into being via a rainbow shimmer. They are dressed in suits with high-waisted, wide-legged, tight-cuffed pegged trousers, long coats with wide lapels and wide padded shoulders, and fedoras. The one in the middle is in purple and the other two are in gray. They are armed with tommy guns and melee weapons.
The man in purple is of average build and height. He has short black hair and dark eyes of indistinct color. His features are a little exaggerated, especially in the chin, nose, and eyes. He’s resting the tommy gun on his shoulder with one hand and the other is on the amethyst head of his cane. He wears a gold pocket watch on a long chain that seems to have some vague enchantment on it. His suit is a dark purple, and his shirt is a lighter shade, lavender maybe. The other two are caricatures: one a largish brute of a man, the other a spindly little character.

IF you have a high psyche or are using a lens (such as Adv Pattern or Logrus or a conjured device), please read the following:

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Something is wrong. Very wrong. They don’t feel right. The aura about them is weird. It leaves a bit of sick feeling in the gut to look at. Not enough to debilitate in any way, but enough to make you aware of it.

IF you have a very high psyche or are using a lens (such as Adv Pattern or Logrus or a conjured device), please read the following:

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The one in the middle has a twisty aura with squiggles, and the other two have curvy auras with jagged edges that seem leashed by the man in purple. You don’t feel any hostile thoughts from the purple one despite this gut reaction, but the other two are more like wild animals on choke chains.

IF you have a high warfare, please read the following:

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While they are packing quite a bit of weaponry, they aren’t moving into tactical position. The largish man seems slow a bit on the slow side, not a problem. The small one is twitchy but you can sense that he is reacting before he can process what he’s doing. One good feint and he’s toast. Hard to read the one in the middle. The tommy gun is obviously a diversion to keep you looking up and to the right. The way he’s holding that cane of his tells you that its more than just a decoration. They certainly came prepared for a tussle, but then again so would anyone walking into an unknown situation.

If you have a high strength, please read the following:

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You’ve enough martial arts training to spot the gray suits’ body language. They look a little unbalanced. It would be hard to spot, but they aren’t used to their center of gravity. Maybe a variance in shadow physics. The one in the middle however seemed unphased by this.

If you have a high endurance, please read the following:

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Sorry, no additional information.

If you have good stuff or zero stuff, please read the following:

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This guy seems happy, almost exuberant, with a zeal for life. As he stepped through the portal you could detect just a bit of dance in his step. His features exaggerate his ear to ear grin which is inviting and friendly.
He looks you over with interest and says enthusiastically,

If you have bad stuff, please read the following:

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Not good. This guy is a few cards short of a full deck. He’s some make up and a hair dye away from being a comic book villain. His features are a little distorted to make him look a little insane, and his smile isn’t humanly possible. No one’s that happy.
He glares at you and says with just a hint of menace,

”Well, well. What do we have here? I hope I’m not too late for the party.”

[Wiz]

Arthur

Glancing over from the coach, Arthur watches the new person arrive; this one with bodygards. "Well, since we hadn't quite pulled away, I suppose not." He glances at Aurora, "Perhaps we shall have to defer catching up on the important details... I've no idea how many more will be arriving." He glances back to Odo, smiling good-naturedly, "Though I think nobody else will have as large a retinue."

[namo]

Aurora

She is about to inform Arthur of her latest breakthrough when a new arrival interrupts their conversation. "Yes, let's pursue this topic later."

Leaning forward in her seat to get a better view, she scans the thugs quickly before focusing on the obvious leader. "Welcome ! If you are here, I daresay you are somewhat special. My name is Aurora. I am but a guest too, but I am guessing your men may have to remain behind if more people show up."

"As well, this does not strike me as the right Shadow" she stresses the word "for guns."

Extracting a small notebook and pencil from somewhere in her cloak she jots down a few notes then puts it away again.

Non-neutral description:

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If you have a high psyche, please read the following:

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Aurora projects an aura of tranquility that does not seem to be only an affectation. She appears open and truthful.

If you have very high psyche:

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Her aura is very polished but you can feel a small, well-contained disturbance under it all. You would probably need an Elder-level psyche to know more about it.

There is Pattern in her blood: she is a descendant of Oberon.

IF you have a high warfare, please read the following:

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Her cloak is a bit bulky around the waist: she could be carrying a small weapon at her belt. That could give her a small advantage in a confined space like the coach.
She holds the staff loosely in one hand: depending on how she'd use it, she could get superior reach. It doesn't look like it would be easy to cut through whatever material it's made off.
If you have very high warfare:

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Many small details tell you that your reaction time is likely to be better than hers. There is however a risk that someone else will want to prove their chivalry.

If you have a high strength, please read the following:

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It's hard to guess under all her clothes. Aurora seems in shape but not especially muscled.

Her breathing is very smooth and regular - unsurprising coming from a dancer/singer.

If you have a high endurance, please read the following:

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She seems in good health.

If you have good stuff, please read the following:

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There is a promise of joy sparkling in her eyes. Her body language is welcoming.

If you have bad stuff, please read the following:

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Her eyes seem focused on you, as if she's following your every move and constantly weighing you. Is it your imagination or does her left hand curl into something like a claw ?