Now Aaron spoke from behind Cyan, a knowing and curious look upon his face.

"Awesome power," he answered for her. "Awesome in amount, that is. The orbs, their singular purpose is to draw energy, all energy, convert and channel it. It is for just such a purpose that they live."

Live. He had said it, one of the secrets which burned in his memory. Aaron would never forget that discovery for as long as he lived. It... disturbed him.

"The Myriad will be divided in half and broken asunder. I believe that if such a thing occurs, it will release a tremendous amount of energy, channeled into the orbs. My friends, because of this, I hypothesize that splitting reality is merely the first part of their objective."

Aaron caught the eyes of Cyan and Berd then, and Dorian's as well. He looked to James also, a pained look on his face.

"The sheer amount of energy generated by such a disastrous confluence would be enough to accomplish their second, and primary objective. The point behind the orbs themselves."

Parcifal reaches out one hand, and a servant is there, almost immediately, with a goblet of wine.  The man who holds joint-rulership of this domain drinks deeply, and then starts to speak again, thoughtfully, as he paces back and forth.

"If the danger is so great, then you should, by all means continue on your way, as soon as it is convenient for you.  Please, don't take this as an attempt to force you out of our home.  You are all welcome to stay, for as long as you wish, but you make it sound as if time is of the essence in this matter."

"Nonetheless, we will not see you leave empty handed."

A pause for another long pull at the wine, "But... with all these extra mouths to feed, we can spare nothing in the way of supplies, for the moment.  You do have our support though.  If Amber is important to all of us, and it is in such grave peril, then Charyk will come to her aid."

"Ganelon implied, and you have verified it, that Amber has a far-reaching presence.  But while he told us that presence threatened us, we are more inclined to believe that it does no such thing."

"Take our offer to the Lords of Amber.  Tell them that if they call, Charyk will come."

His pacing stops, and he exchanges a look with Gawain, and a brief nod.

"I... we... pledge this."

Talk of unnaturally long lives intrigues Trista. She’s lived in the Myriad Worlds her whole life and never knew those with long lives except her family who decidedly did not live there. And herself… she’s not old compared to those standing in this court yard, but she decidedly ages more slowly than those of her beloved Shadow.

More contribute, words and ideas coming from points in the circle, resulting in Berd creating the cosmos and Cyan explaining the fabric weaving through the worlds. Energy. Orbs. Archons. Though some here already knew, no doubt, the lessons Cyan imparts, they are new concepts to Trista. She’s traveled the Worlds, but has not understood them. She has only loved them, the people, her people. It makes no difference her blood runs of Amber and Chaos intertwined, the Myriad Worlds are far more real to her than anything from those places.

So it is with keen interest she listens to all Cyan has to say, all any have to teach.

The last, before Cyan grows quiet, the last visibly rattles the woman. A quick intake of breath at the dawning of her Worlds being so connected to Amber that if an Orb were placed within Amber, all could be lost.

“We have to save them. All of them.” The words are quiet, not meant for others, simply a reaction.

Amber. All roads, indeed, lead to that place of myth. A place she’s been slowly pathing towards for many years, yet she’s afraid of what she might find there. Her goal, her desires, her nightmares.

Amber.

Her eyes slowly make their way to the little dragon, so casually draped on Cyan’s neck. The dragon who knows her.


Her attention comes back to Aaron, catching the looks he gives those he trusts: those he’s known the longest. Parcifal makes a pledge and Trista wonders at concurrence with her silent pledge.

If Amber is their destiny, Trista will be there to aid in whatever way her strong spirit can.

Roman nods. 

Roman puts away the cards and settles back into the bed.  It has been a hard day's work.  At least his mind is a little more easy, despite the bad news from home.

Entropy and disorder, Dorian muses. For James, it might mean an attack of the Courts of Chaos, but he wonders if it might not just be the decay of the great pattern.

Cyan's smile warms him. The motion of her head, the sway of her hair, are but simple gestures inviting him towards her, but they draw him to her like a shiny lure coaxing a fish from under a dark rock. He cannot help but smile again as he nears, glad for being there.

Her assertion of an orb reflects his secret suspicion, too. He is glad to hear that other seems in agreement with his desire. Many times, they have sought to make Amber their destination, but something else had always lured them away from their plan, it seemed.

He has forgotten some things--the Trump/Palanquet, of which he never understood much, and the virus that Fiona spoke of. Yes, he remembers something of that, now. Cyan's Bardic memory outshines his, as usual. Hers is like a sturdy trap that never releases its prize.

"I have glimpsed some of what the Archon's home is like, much like that place we found, though it was not the subject of my investigation at the time. It is reasonable to assume they wish our node to be the same, too.

"As for Amber, we can only assume to things. Whatever they play, it is not good. The prospect of an Orb seems likely, though I would imagine the Family would respond with much vigor should they suspect any tampering of the pattern. However, I recall this is not ht first time there was tampering, and that went unnoticed for some time, as well. We can also know that the Family will not like us meddling near Amber no matter our goal."

"And yet at least one of the Family has specifically requested our intervention, as Morgan tells us.  And Aaron is right, an orb on the Pattern would be catastrophic."

James agrees with much that has been said.  The scenario presented by Cyan (with audiovisuals by Berd) makes sense.  In James eyes it was clear they had to go, all that remained to be decided was the manner of their going.

"Berd.  Do you think it's safe to attempt a voyage through the Underflow, given the battle?  If not, we need to start making preparations for a hellride.  Actually, that wouldn't be too hard.  Morgan's company gives us a perfect means for rapid travel."

"Enthusiasm is understandable, but we are ill prepared for such haste at this time. We would arrive merely to throw rocks at their chariots, so to speak. The Questers require rest and recovery before they are able. As always, we will exhaust our limits in defense of the Myriad--as we have today--but we are yet mortals and limited to mortal effort, give or take a little. That said, I suggest we hasten to this rest and recovery since it would seem we now know our course."

Aaron, the local expert regarding orbs, speaks up in response to her own theories, and his suppositions, conclusions, are chilling.  Cyan grows cold at his disclosure, that the orbs themselves are living beings.  It should not surprise her, given her time with her former captors.  Her former allies.

Worse still, he offers confirmation of her fears.  Certainly it would be the logical decision of the Archons, to emplace an orb upon the Grand Pattern itself.  Tactically, strategically, it would be a shattering gain for the Archons, and their wisest move.  It would be...what she would do.

The thought hollows her heart.  Was this how the ancients like Aaron, like Dorian, saw the world?  She did not think so.  Hoped it was not so.  She glances back at Aaron for a moment, stares into his autumn eyes.  No - the worlds are not all numbers, all lines and movements to him.  She knows that - proof is in action.

Trista's words echo in her thoughts.  To save all of them.  All the worlds that remain.  One of Cyan's hands tightens into a fist, and she nods, grimly, a fire awakening in her ruby eyes that chases away the emptiness in her heart.  That has been her purpose from the beginning, and while she may stumble, she will not fall.

Parcifal and Gawain pledge themselves to the Quest, albiet indirectly, as allies to Amber.  A wise decision, Cyan thinks - Amber has lost much of its glow for her, due to what she has discovered during the Quest, but given the circumstances would be a powerful ally, and certainly one of two places that need to be guarded at all costs.

Dorian arrives smoothly, as is his wont, a small smile on his face, as is not.  She gives a slight nod in return, head to the side, and Berd lets out a small whistle as he again gets comfortable.  The dark man speaks of his own soundings of the Archons' home, and then continues to add his voice to the weight atop the Amber theory.  James, the rock, shifts the balance altogether; unless one of the others comes up with an extremely compelling reason why they should not go, Amber is their destination.  Cyan offers a nod of agreement, a nod that turns into a yawn.  Surprised and embarrassed, she claps one palm over her mouth, and struggles to control the crimson flooding her features.  "Apologies, James - it is the hour, not the speaker."

She glances at Berd, herself, for a moment before Dorian interjects.  Dorian, ever the voice of caution (no, not always, a small whisper inside reminds her), counsels a night's rest, something for which her body cries out.  She looks around the room, stares at the faces.  Weariness on several.  James, of course, looks a trifle rumpled by his experience, but otherwise stands strong.  She cannot help but laugh, briefly, a small sound of amusement.

"I fear, James, I must agree.  I have not slept in...days, it would seem."

"Rest," Aaron begins, "is not just sleep. I fear we just need time to sit. Lest we forget, there is a traitor in Amber's midst. We cannot arrive there weary and worn. We must fall upon Amber's doorstep strong, rested and prepared for any eventuality."

Aaron sighed. "The road we walk is long and hard, our enemy throws the wealth of the myriad worlds at us to stay our hand - but we are not dead yet. Pardon my optimism, but that's the way it's always been."

"However, now is not the time for Amber. Soon, yes, quite soon. I cannot stress enough though, that we must arrive prepared. I believe the enemy may even be anticipating our traverse to Amber."

Raising his head to Dorian, Aaron gestured back towards his quarters.

"When you have the time, Dorian, I'd like to discuss something with you and... a few others."

Parcival interrupts then, "Well, of course, you're all welcome to sleep here, and leave when you are refreshed.  We - "

He stops, and his eyes lock on Aaron, "Wait!  Did you say that the enemy may be aware of your plans?  How would they be aware of them?  And does this awareness place Charyk in more immediate danger?"

"Could they, for example, know that you are here, now?"

Morgan listens to the others speak, and tries not to look as impatient as he is. He hasn't words to answer Tahirah if the question wasn't rhetorical, so lets the question be lost as the conversation continues.

James's comments on the protection of Arden, he somehow doubts. The Archons are able to spew fire from afar, and even green wood will burn, if its hot enough. Perhaps the woods have other protections, that no one has mentioned, though, so he holds his tongue.


He hadn't really considered how the refugees might strain this city's resources. The trees seem healthy enough to support several such cities, but things don't grow as easily, or quickly, here, now he remembers to think of it. They'll have to go hunting and see if the beasts are edible, in the morning.

 But then the talk turns to rest, and his impatience surges. A night, a week, or months? He can't tell how much rest they mean, and Julian...the need had seemed urgent.

"I haven't been with you long, so pray excuse my question. How far, and how dangerous the path, is it to Amber from here, the way you travel? We can cover the physical distance quickly I think, but what of the distance between worlds? If your way is measured in days or less, and you mean more than overnight by rest, we could do so in my father's kingdom. The storms seem to have stopped, so supply will not be a problem. "

"Amber's time is not long," Tahirah cautions.  "Harbonah's trap is already in place; if James' dream speaks true, the trigger may already have been given.  But nothing will be won in failure."

She turns to the Brothers, and gives one of her small bows.  "Perhaps I might bear your promise, in partial return of the great aid you have given?" she offers.  "If it is acceptable to them that I might travel with them when they go."

 

Suddenly Ahmad feels a slight change in the weight hanging on his tail as a second kitten joins the first in clinging to the tail with teeth and claws, although they probably are barely felt.

Hind legs kick at the Fur Wyrm as they both struggle to defeat the monster that threatens everyone, small growls and noises escaping the two.

Down below on the floor some kind of strange ash is sitting, as if spilt from a bucket carrying ashes from a fireplace, and yet not quite the same.

Every now and then the new kitten glances at those speaking, as if listening, but most of the time is spent focusing on the epic battle that is taking place.


_{Fixed a typo.}
This message was last edited by the player at 08:29, Thu 08 Mar 2007.

James looks hesitant, unsure of himself for a moment until a decision is made.
"Don't worry about it, Cyan.  You're probably right.  Dorian and Aaron too.  I guess I am being a bit hasty.  I missed the worst of the fighting today, so I'm fresher than most."

James then turns to address Parcifal's concerns, "They have sorcerors and other, more exalted, powers.  It's best to assume they can scry or otherwise eavesdrop.  Berd can probably block them now he's eaten and slept, at least a little.  But what it boils down to is:  Charyk, probably all of them, sit on a junction between worlds.  Sooner or later the Archons will come here if they are not stopped.  It is possible, but unlikely, that our presence here will hasten their arrival.  It is more likely that they any revenge attack will fall later.  If I were them I'd pick a spot between here and Amber."

And Morgan's.  "With Aaron and me, movement between worlds is an exercise of will.  Generally the stronger the will, the faster you travel, at least that's how I understand it.  Charyk's peculiarities will probably speed our passage, but I've no idea how long the trip will take or whether your home is even remotely on the way.  I think it's best we rest here, for all that I want to be leaving."

James looks, and feels, edgy.  As always, the Archon's headstart left them playing catch-up.  By rights the battle in other-Charyk should have been a grand victory, something to stem the tide.  But the forces arrayed here would be nothing compared to those brought against Amber.

It had been a long day. Now he stood once again next to Cyan, which was the only victory he had craved, but it did not bring the happiness the chaos lord accused him of feeling. He well knew the dangers of a happiness dependant on another's presence. Long ago, he had learned that lesson. So what else was it he felt when she was near? Perhaps the instinct for survival recognized that danger, perhaps it caused him to keep a respectful distance from her, when he called it prudence not to crowd her. So much had happened, and he had so many things to sort his way through. Instinct had led him well in the past; did it lead him astray now?

"If it is short, Aaron," he said.

They would find opposition in the Archons, and possibly the Family. Can their arrogance be so mighty as to stop a few people from, potentially, saving their world? Saving all the Worlds? Yes, yes that is possible. It’s disheartening, but very real, if her own experiences prove true.

If they are lucky, they will simply gain a wary eye from Random, et al. But if they are not so fortunate…the Family is all too powerful. The coming days are looking more and more hazardous.

James’ question regarding a ‘hellride’ and the Underflow must be answered through psychic links as Trista does not hear the answer. Understandable, considering he asked Berd. The woman wonders how much is being handled silently. And just who is included in those conversations; she guesses those who have traveled the longest together. She waits to learn the answers in time.

They come, though not obliquely, but through inferences. They would rest and then James and Aaron… a hellride? She would ask Berd of this. Tahirah offers to travel with the group; their numbers grow. A seer in their midst would surely benefit them all.

Off to the side, the blonde woman morphs into a cat and plays with her foundling. A frown mars Trista’s brow, but if the woman wishes to play, it is not for Trista to judge. There is, after all, a benefit in her seemingly carefree attitudes.

James’ explanation of movement through Shadow intrigues Trista. She has her own way of movement, but it’s slow and confined to her and what she carries. More powers, great and terrible.

Aaron wishes to speak with those in the ‘core group’ and Trista takes that as a sign it is time to leave them to themselves. She had hoped to talk casually with Cyan, get to know more of Berd’s daughter. But this does not seem possible, at least not at the present time.

She nods once as she concludes, “Rest then. And privacy for those who wish it. Amber is our destination, though it holds no joy for me. None of this does, I suppose.” Her eyes land on Berd, “Perhaps there was a small measure of joy found this day in saving these people.” Her words layer with meaning.

Her eyes lift and travel about the circle, “I am honored to be in this company,” and land on Dorian, “and do as I can to stop these Archons.”

Berd shifts upon Cyan's shoulder, concern in his eyes.

"Dorian, Cyan, Berd... if you would, please come to my quarters as soon as you are able." With that, Aaron strolled off to prepare for the journey.

Aaron brings forth a stopgap measure - for starters, deal with the issue of exhaustion and planning.  Tahirah seconds the notion, with a cryptic comment regarding the future of the fabled city, and a wise warning.  A fine idea, in truth - Cyan feels fit to fold.  She pauses, though, recalling his request of earlier, and slowly nods when he mentions another meeting.  Nervous, suddenly, Cyan shifts from foot to foot, and Berd lets out an irked chirrup before settling back.  Morgan, in the meantime, appears ready to begin on the journey at a moment's notice - no sooner has silence fallen that he leaps into the breach with the the all-important question: How?

It would seem that James and Aaron will be their guides upon this journey.  Cyan slowly nods, a touch of excitement.  She never, ever grew tired of the march from world to world; long ago, before his new ascension, Berd had been her guide in a rambling path.  The steps of a scion of Amber seemed straighter by far, and this 'hellride'...she had been on one, once, with James - a shocking experience to be sure, and not without a terrifying beauty of its own.  "Hardly missed, James," she replies quietly.  "You were quite likely the turning point, arriving in the very teeth of time with allies."  Thinking about the battle set her own teeth on edge, twisted her stomach, and she thrust those thoughts from her head.  I turned gurthang upon Aaron, and Jonnee both...no, enough.

And, as usual, James' summation of the strategic situation of Charyk matches Aaron's rundown of the current, overall status - well said, and poor.

Dorian remains silent at her side, and now it is Trista who speaks, over the small squeaking of the two kittens at play.  Cyan gives her a rueful look - rest for the other wanderer, perhaps, but apparantly not for the bard.  She hears other meanings in the woman's words, and wonders at what they might be.  Then a final compliment, and Cyan bows in return, flushing with surprised embarassment.  She looks at James, their pillar, at Dorian and Aaron, then to the newer people - Morgan with his cats (all three, at the moment, of various sizes), Tahirah, knowledgeable and determined despite the loss of her home, and Meredith, a silent, keen observer.   Trista's strength finds itself in good company.

"We are glad of your company," she states, bowing again, this time to all of the newcomers.  "Rest assured of this."  Aaron slips away with a final reminder, and Cyan gives him a quick, nervous nod.  "I fear I must bid you all a good night."  She slides the cloak from her shoulder, offers it to Dorian with a small smile and a wave to follow Aaron.  "Yours, I believe?"

Best they get this done - she won't sleep until she finds out the purpose of this discussion, that's for certain.
This message was last edited by the player at 12:27, Fri 09 Mar 2007.

Dorian never felt any need to use honesty as a crutch, though he was far from compulsive in his dishonesty. Both honesty and dishonesty could be used in strategic ways, as needed. In dealing with Cyan, he had been honest and open, but the reason was not born of strategy. It merely... seemed right. At the same time, he wondered if it had been wrong. That was where his instinct collided with itself. On one hand, he felt it was best, yet it went against his centuries-old nature to be so open and candid, volunteering what was not requested.

Movement catches his eye, as she turns to him, removing his cloak and offering it back to him. Part of him foolishly wants to tell her to keep it, though she obviously no longer needs it. What was it, some misguided need to give her everything, anything, as a strange gesture of affection, or some juvenile need for attention from her? Yes, these were the feelings that went too far, beyond mere care. These were the feelings that would damage him and anything between them. Or would they? Perhaps the quest made such things seem misplaced. Things had grown muddled in his mind, tearing him in many directions. He no longer had his compass, figuratively, to guide him in this matter.

   ~loneliness~
     ~it has been too long~

Memories-- his memories....

The compass had guided him true in that battle. It had led him into dangerous waters, where he would not tread willingly, exposed. It had seen him through to the other side. He could examine emotions of desperation. They had a source, a need, that he would need to discover and address, but the compass had not guided him wrong.

He accepts the cloak, with a small bow, though he did not don it immediately. "Thank you," he says in a low voice. "I hope it served well." He carefully folds it over his arm. How rarely had he let the cloak venture from his shoulders? For such a simple thing, it seemed odd in its significance. The significance, of course, did not lie in the fabric, but in what lie beneath. Exposure, on two levels. No more needed to be said about the cloak. He could see the weariness in her eyes, face and body. She made a brave effort of lingering to hear what was said, to speak.

He turns back towards the others, then. Trista's eyes catch his as she bids everyone goodnight. He nods, as if in agreement to something unspoken. No joy in Amber. Could there ever be joy in Amber, for any of the siblings? Perhaps not, but the woman seemed dedicated to the quest, which was admirable. He guessed at some need within her to have such a purpose, but more than that, she displayed genuine concern for the Myriad, and that was more than enough reason to put aside feelings for Amber.

For Dorian, it had once been no more than concern for Samhain that had pulled him into the quest. Now? Now, there were so many things, but he found that often there was a question of right and wrong, more than in the past, that guided his steps.

"I retire also," he announces. "After a brief moment to hear Aaron's words, of course." With private conversation so common among the group, he marveled that Aaron desired a private meeting with he, Berd and Cyan in particular? No James? So, it wasn't just the older members, then. It bothered him to wonder what Aaron had on his mind. The man could be... unpredictable.

Meredith lets the conversation flow and form without taking an active roll. She has just plunged back into this situation and does not want to disrupt the others as they try to piece things together and plan. She turns to answer Tahirah's questions about the weapon quietly, an aside.

"The weapons are connected, but I am unsure if they would sing to each other. The Brintizzi are guarding a cache of this same crystal in the other Charyk. I did not see enough to recall if they were fashioned into weapons or not. I may be able to get more information if I spent more time with the blade"

Still sensitive to the mood of those around her, Meredith picks up on James' edginess and she takes a step back, so that she is alongside him. Without thinking she places her gloved hand on his arm, a gesture meant to show support. "We have been nipping his heels this entire time, slowly coming closer. This time we will not miss him" she says with absolute confidence, her grey eyes serious as she looks up at him.

The Fur Wyrm thrashes, making the pair of fearless kittens work for their holds, and Ahmad's ears twitch in amusement as he realizes just where the second one must have come from.

Morgan accepts James's answer with a sigh and a nod. "Good night to you." He returns to those ending their evening. He has a bit more energy left, though whether the nap had refreshed him, or it is simply the leftover tenseness from the nightmare, is still a question.

Conscious of Meredith's nearness and, most of all, her hand on his arm, James takes a deep breath and sighs heavily.  He forces himself if not to relax then at least to be patient.  "You're right, Meredith.  We will catch him.  I'm not sure what happens then, but I think it involves stopping him.  Making him pay would be nice too, but I'd settle for an end to the fight."  James puts his free hand over Meredith's where it rests on his arm

As various of the others head off to their rooms, James eyes follow Dorian for a moment.  There goes one conversation I'm glad I'm not part of.


"I haven't introduced you to everyone yet, have I Meredith?  The gentleman on his way to bed is Morgan, who commands Ahmad and his kin.  The lady in white is Tahirah of Charyk.  The two lords are the brothers Parcifal and Gawain who rule this Charyk.  And this is Trista, who joined us during the fighting in Charyk."

James speaks for Meredith's benefit since she has already introduced herself.  He finishes the introductions with Trista quite deliverately as he continues speaking to her.

"I'm glad you're coming with us too Trista.  Sorry we haven't had the chance for that chat yet, but I had to go meet Meredith."  A very personal compulsion that one.  "If you're not too tired we could talk now or we should get the chance on the road tomorrow.  It looks like Aaron and I will take turns leading."

 

The two kittens seemed delighted at the extra struggle and continued to cling on, making some kind of noises that might sound amused even, at least with a little imagination.

Eventually they clearly decided that they had defeated the Fur Wyrm and settled on to hunting for a warm spot - where they began to wrestle about who would get to sleep in the absolutely "best" spot.

After a little while they both had fallen asleep, entangled, with a paw each straight on the other's eye or ear, a rear paw to a tummy and with a content expression on their little faces, one tongue sticking out a little.

Time for a catnap, clearly.

 
This message was last edited by the player at 12:24, Sat 10 Mar 2007.

Dorian, Aaron, Cyan, and Berd travel off together; a group not looking to include others in whatever conferences they hold. Merideth continues her earlier testimonies then turns her attentions to James though Trista remains to hear, realizing that perhaps she has overstayed her welcome.

Morgan turns to leave and James makes more formal introductions. Trista remembers that he was the one who had made introductions earlier; a man who would include all and make all feel welcomed.

A touch of a warm smile curves Trista’s lips as she nods her head in Merideth’s direction before bringing her eyes back to James. “I hope to be useful. And yes,” her knowing eyes glance towards Merideth, “you most definitely had urgent business.”

Addressing Merideth now, “You have an incredible gift, Merideth. Between you and Tahirah,” her eyes sweep over the other woman, “I am quite impressed. Knowledge is key, and you provide it.”

Turning back to James, “Thank you for the offer, James, but you have more important matters at hand, namely spending time with Merideth.” A brief, understanding light sparks her eyes, there and gone. “We’ll get to know each other at a future time,” she turns to indicate those still left, “Good night and sleep well.” The woman makes her way up the stairs in search of a place to sleep.