Devlin takes his leave and steps out of the inn, and for a moment it is as if he has walked under a waterfall, so intense is the rain which slams down on him.  At least here, close to the building, there is a little protection from the wind which blasts across the rooftops.

Around his feet, the water is flowing a couple of inches deep, rushing down the hill towards the harbour, carrying detritus and debris along with it.  One thing is certain, when the storm is over, the streets in the higher areas of the city should be much cleaner.

There is a movement, as if something is carried along on the lightning illuminated gale, and then it stops, its appearance resolving into a small dragon, which alights heavily on the inn's signboard.  And a moment later, Trista appears, running sure-footed through the torrent, each pace splashing more water up onto the already soaked legs of her jeans.  It doesn't matter much now.  The material could not possibly get any wetter.

Devlin steps out into the storm, the downpour is horrendous. He'd seen some bad storms but this was definitely one of the worst. He reaches up and pulls the hood of his cloak over his head; a hood that until recently was not there, if anyone noticed such things.


Not that anyone is likely to notice anything in this storm.

Devlin ducks his head against the weather and starts off, once again, in the direction of the castle. With the water flowing in the street it is like walking into a small stream.
This message was last edited by the player at 03:58, Sun 27 May 2007.

Through the thick curtains of rain, the figure of Devlin appears just outside the Inn. Trista slows, nods to the man, and turns to her things left on the steps above the flowing waterways. A hint of a smile touches her lips when she sees Berd’s protective fairies.


Sighing at the water, Trista rests against the walls and struggles to pull dry socks over wet feet. She tugs on her boots and flings the pack over her back. Certainly, they won’t find themselves at the Inn once Berd shifts them out of the Prison, so with Devlin's consent, Trista leaves nothing behind.


The woman squints after the man who has all but disappeared into the cascading storms. There’s no use wringing her hair out or attempting to become dry, she’ll be doused in a moment anyway. The rains do not bother her, though she does start to feel their bite. Perhaps the soaked figure of a forlorn woman will benefit their cause.

Trista bounds off the steps and catches up to Devlin, striding on his right side.
This message was last edited by the player at 18:55, Sat 26 May 2007.

Berd, steaming in the rain, sits upon Trista's shoulder, his wings around his huddled body.
This message was last edited by the player at 17:52, Sun 27 May 2007.

The walk to the fortress which serves this city as a palace does not take long.  The streets are almost clear of people now, because of the weather.  In the marketplace the stallholders are struggling against the wind, lacing sheets of canvas to hang from the canopies of their stalls, to protect their stock from the elements.  Most are having little success, as the heavy sheets flap and flutter in the wind.  One tears away from its fastenings, ripping metal eyelets loose, and rises to spiral and twist in the turbulent air.

At the gallows, the men are still working, though a not entirely surprising number of them have found an excuse to work on the structural supports below the platform.

Further on, and the gate of the fortress stands closed, a massive structure of blackened wood, riveted and banded with ancient, verdigrised bronze.  There are no guards in sight, but there is a smaller door in the barbican wall, just to the left of the gate itself, bearing a notice which reads Guardhouse.

As the threesome move out of the marketplace and past where anyone might notice Devlin begins to change as he walks.


First his clothing begins to change, transforming from his black cloak to a uniform similar to what Rel was wearing. It is the uniform that Rel always saw Major Bers in. Then more changes occur. Devlin seems to become a bit heavier, a bit taller. Not in reality, In reality he is adding emptiness within himself to push out and inflate his outer appearance; Much like putting air into a balloon. He does make one stop to pull a small mirror out of somewhere to take a quick look at himself and make sure that the image that is reflected looks like the image that he saw in Rel's mind. Everything was there, including the scar under the outer corner of the man's right eye.

Major Bers reaches down with his left hand to check the sword that hangs there. At least it looks like a sword hanging at his side. The thing will not actually come out of the scabbard, that would require Devlin pulling part of himself off from the rest. Not something he'd tried yet. It's amazing what can be done by changing the hardness and consistency of ones own skin; something Devlin had learned how to do out of necessity. When one travels great distances in the manner that he does it's always nice to appear that you are clothed rather than showing up on the inn's steps naked when you get there.

The black gauntlet is still on his right arm, mostly covered now by a flap of skin that looks like Major Bers’ sleeve.

Major Bers looks at Trista, "W'er 'ere miss. 'Bout damn time too. Thawt dis storm udd be takin' us a'sure." The man barks. Then he steps up to the small door in the wall next to the gate and raps it soundly three times with the side of his fist, actually jarring the door within its frame. "Urry up an get dis door open or I'll ave ya standin' guard on this side a it!" He yells at the door loud enough to be heard inside above the sounds of the storm.
This message was last edited by the player at 18:59, Mon 28 May 2007.

The familiar weight of Berd lends an odd sensation of peace to Trista; her body remains alert, but her mind relaxes. She slowly nods as she studies and memorizes the image Berd sends to her concerning Beldrin’s tattoo.

In the market, the dark and angry gallows needs must gather her attention. The workers have slowed in the inclement weather; good news for their task. The trio passes as sodden tarps crack in the wind. Water rushes with force through the streets, making those who walk work a bit harder, but it does not deter them.

Trista’s eyes snap to Devlin after his silent warning. While she saw the effects of Roman’s and Banglen-Yup’s shape-changing, she hadn’t witnessed the events themselves. She had, however, seen Chance’s dark clothing change to pajamas. But this is different.

Before her eyes, the man’s entire body changes, subtly but markedly. The woman forgets herself for a moment as her eyes widen. The man gains a bit of weight, a bit of height, and the structure of his face morphs. Startling, even with the advanced warning.

Most startling of all comes his voice, unrefined and coarse of language. She looks around and they seem to have come to the guardhouse. Quickly, she dismisses whatever awe or anxiety might have crept into her expression. She’s simply a woman in mourning with vengeance on her mind. Somehow, it suits the woman.
This message was last edited by the player at 06:31, Tue 29 May 2007.

Berd, not surprisingly, keeps a close eye on Devlin as he changes.  Curiousity flashes in his brilliant eyes - this is a trick which he is no longer capable of replicating.


Berd, on Trista's shoulder, remains...unremarkable, as odd as that might seem.

A message over the bridging "I come.  If you need aid I will assist as I can.  If you need help try to get outside or to an open window"

A small panel in the door opens, and an eye peers through it.  Then the door itself swings open.  A nervous looking guard stands aside to admit the officer, and the woman with the... animal... on her shoulder.

Just as he closes the door, the sound of the storm outside seems to redouble in fury...   The man makes a gesture of warding, and shoots the bolt home.

"Sorry Major Bers, Sir.  Afraid we weren't expectin' yer afore mornin', an' with the all the troubles over the last few months, we were given orders las' night, ter keep everythin' locked down 'til after the execution termorrer.  Just ter be on the safe side.  Specially since we've one o' the Amberite Lords payin' a visit."

The room is semicircular, and sparsely furnished, but there is what looks to be a small cupboard on the straight wall.  The guard opens the door of this, to reveal that it is enpty.  He reaches inside, and raps smartly on the wooden panel at the back, which seems to be sunk deep into the stonework, and yet sounds hollow.  The mystery is answered a moment later, as the panel opens, to reveal another guard, standing in a room which could be a mirror image of this one.

"Open the gate.  Major Bers is waitin'."

The two doors in the small cabinet close, and the guard turns to face the Major and his guest.  "Give it a moment, Sir, an' the gate'll be open."

Stepping across to the outer door again, he opens it  just enough to stick his head out and check the gate.  "It's openin' now, Sir."


Back outside, the gate stands partly open, leading into a short tunnel, perhaps twenty feet long, with a dozen or so armed guards waiting inside.  The far end of the tunnel is open, but the lower edge of a heavy portculis can just be seen projecting down from the roof.

Beyond, there is an open yard, and another wall, complete with a locked gate...

Major Bers does not say anything at first. He would have no reason to explain anything to a subordinate so he doesn’t.

Just before he heads for the now open gate he says, "So, tha prisnas still secure, Good. Ther'll be more charges ta'be listen' afore we hang da' bast'rd come mornin'," he says as he looks out the door at the gate.

Then he turns to the young lady and adds, in a slightly nicer tone, "Ca'Mon lass, not much furder now an' w'll ave dis done." With that Major Bers steps through the door and heads for the open gate and the tunnel that leads further into the castle.

Devlin does not say anything across the link, he is busy concentrating on his current form and mimicking a man he only knows by what Rel knows of him. He hopes that Trista and Berd can follow his lead as he improvises his way in to see Beldrin. So far no one has asked about either of them. He knows that Major Bers is not about to explain anything unless he is asked and then only if one of his superiors does the asking.
This message was last edited by the player at 23:40, Tue 29 May 2007.

Though Trista stands at the fortress, she’s still connected through the bridging, We are at the Guardhouse already. So if you want to be a decoy, you probably want to go now, James. Either way, I would think renewing your ties could only help us in Amber.

After Roman informs them of his nearness, she adds, Thank you, Roman. Be careful. She had not witnessed his transformation the previous day, but James had introduced him when he was in the form of a storm cloud.

At the gates, the trio is let in and Trista keeps her eyes open and her mouth shut. She gives a solemn, sad nod of thanks to the man who opens the gate for them as they pass. At Devlin’s newly-acquired accented voice, Trista grinds her teeth, “I’ll see the dog and be back for the hanging.” It’s quite easy to be angry at this prisoner she’s never met when she focuses all her year of rage into this one man, pretending he’s someone else.

She memorizes the lay-out and how the men move around as they make their way through the labyrinth just in case things go wrong and they find they need to exit this way.
This message was last edited by the player at 14:30, Wed 30 May 2007.

Berd remains on Trista's shoulder, silently watching.  Waiting.  His senses rove outward, questing for any around them who also might not be what they seem to be.