Duard... not even similar to any of the names Devlin had drummed into his head by his teacher.

"Oh, no reason in particular. As I said, my father is supposed to be from there. I was just curious if I've heard the name before, but I haven't."

He doesn't say any more on the subject. Instead he grins and says, "Do not be alarmed. My change will be a bit more drastic than it was with Major Bers."

He actually begins to change as he speaks. He seems to blur and distort. The band about the man's wrist also changs, the metal seems to turn to liquid and flow up Devlins arm, then shadows fan out around him.

When the shadows subside, instead of a man there is now a very large black wolf. About the wolfs neck is is a band of black metal. Nightbrand's form when Devlin is in this state.

Changing to a form he knows well is not nearly as difficult or time consuming, especially when it is one of his natural forms.

The wolf brushes its fur against Trista's leg... As they touch the wolf tries to send a message through the contact to the girl, he does not realize that communication in such a fashion is being blocked ...and then steps away. As the animal does so it fades into the darkness as if it had only been a shadow and is gone leaving Trista apparently standing by herself.

Understanding nods her head, though in truth, Trista's slightly disappointed; she had hoped something more would have come from her father's name. Though that proves a double-edged sword for the woman. Perhaps, it's just as well.

Devlin begins his transformation, and Trista takes a single step back. She hasn't actually watched this type of power before, it always taking place beyond her line of vision. Under the misty rains, a quiet mysticism envelopes Trista as Devlin's form loses weight, shifts, blurs, and acquires the aspect of an intimidatingly large black wolf.

She might have taken another step back if she did not remember his words, this is after all, Devlin. When the wolf comes close, she holds steady and reaches a hand out to touch his sleek fur, but pulls back at the last minute. Is this more Devlin or more wolf? Does he know her? Yes, or certainly he would not act this docile toward a strange woman.

Then he's off a few steps, vanishing into nothingness. Trista lifts her head, looking around, then lets out the breath she had been holding. “Beautiful,” she whispers into the rain.

As she waits for his eventual, she hopes, return, something of their recent conversation catches at her thoughts. Her father hails from Amber, and so does his. Trista does not know all the intricacies of the Family, but she knows enough. If the fathers both are true Amberites, she and Devlin are related, though to what degree, she can not guess.

A warm smile curves her lips, and she waits.

He does not actually go far and he stands watching the girl for a moment from his present location. He stands between worlds, not quite in the world he'd left and not quite in the next world.

He'd thought about this before, especially after the first time Berd had pulled him through what the drake called The Underflow. Where Devlin was, was similar to that in some ways, yet on a smaller scale. The Underflow, that vast expanse of blackness with the worlds; spots, points, stars in that expanse. The darkness between all the worlds.

He was in the darkness between two worlds, but if he tried hard enough he could make out more that the two he seemed to be between. He wondered to himself, and not for the first time, if he somehow was managing to use the Underflow the way he traveled. He would need to speak to Berd about this, when there was time. Devlin had never taken the time to explain how it was he got around to anyone that might help him understand it... but if this was some small part of that expanse...

He thinks for a moment about trying once again to lead someone through shadow this way. For a moment he thinks about trying to reach out and pull Trista into the place that he now is, then dismisses it. What would happen if he succeeded? He hadn't warned her he might try such a thing. There was no telling how she'd react to suddenly being pulled into... into what.

There was a time he'd tried to lead another through shadow that way, and it had not worked. He'd transformed Serena into a wolf like himself...

His thoughts strayed to Serena. She had returned, but suddenly he was not feeling as he had before. Before the conversation with Trista. Somehow he was feeling better. He had no idea what would happen in the future with her, but he no longer feared it.

... He'd transformed Serena into a wolf like himself and tried to give her his ability to travel... without even thinking he might have to teach her how it worked. He'd never actually thought to try to pull someone along with him...

He puts his stray thoughts aside. He'd told trista he would not be gone long and so he could not just keep standing there making her wait.

The wolf steps, it was simple, he just stepped into the world that he had stepped out or a few moments before.

The wolf sits and looks up at the girl.

Standing in the gentler rain, Trista attempts to keep her head clear of memories or worries. It proves a difficult task, to live completely in the moment. Here and now with no thoughts of the future or the past. She's alive, and for the first time in quite some time, it seems a good thing.

She does wonder where Devlin, the wolf, currently strays. Does he circle her even now in some other shadow looking at a different version of Trista? The thought of dopplegangers sends a shiver down her spine.

He appears in all his majesty. Her heart leaps at the sight of the large black wolf, spiking just a touch of fear through her fingertips. Relaxing as he steps forward, Trista smiles down at Wolf Devlin. Quizzical eyes study the creature with the metallic collar.

Crouching down, and therefore having to look up into his eyes, she says, “An amazing ability, Devlin. Can you – can you understand me as you are now? Are you completely Devlin or do you have aspects of the feral wolf?”

She knows he cannot answer her – or can he? She's simply full of questions, but even a she contemplates him, the sleek, wet fur tempts her. She slowly reaches her hand forward, “Will you let me touch you?” Slowly, carefully, her fingers reach for the back of his jaw to smooth down his neck.

The wolf's head leans into Trista's hand as she begins to stroke his fir, much like one might expect from the family dog. Several moments pass and then the animal turns it's head to study the girls face; It looks perplexed.

Suddenly the wolf's shape begins to distort and blur as it starts to lift itself to it's hind legs; It's form shifting once again.

Her fingers flow through the wet fur, and she smiled at the way he nuzzled her hand. Animals had always held a special place in Trista's heart; guileless as compared to humans. Of course, this particular animal was no ordinary beast.

She chuckled curiously, “You look as if you're studying me; I wish I knew what you were thinking.”

He began to change. Trista sharply withdrew her hand, not knowing if it would impede his progress. Pushing herself to her feet, she took a step back and watched as the wolf fluidly turned into the man. “That's... that was amazing to watch. Your clothes and everything... just changed."
This message was last edited by the player at 03:12, Tue 28 Aug 2007.

"It took me a while to master that." Devlin says in response to Trista's last comment about his cloths. "My... Cloths in this form are not really cloths. I must alter parts of myself to form them. It took me a while to change directly to a clothed form. At first I would always be, well, naked for several moments. Always needed to find a place where people wouldn't see me."

The he looks at her with that same puzzled look that the wolf had and says, "I tried to speak to you, you know..." tapping his forehead with a finger, "Didn't you hear me?" He shrugs.

"I can understand you perfectly in any form. No matter what I look like I'm still the same person inside," Devlin says. "usually. I can also change my mind, but I avoid changing it to the point where..." He stops there. He's never gone that far. Devlin could actually become some other person, but there were dangers on that road that Devlin would rather not temp.

"I would ask one favor though. If ever I am in that form and we're are around others call the wolf D'Ombra. Actually better to always call it by that name. It helps to keep the secret. There are times when best others don't realize that the animal and the man are one and the same."

Surprise lifts Trista's brows, a rare feat. Even his clothes are him? The idea bewilders the woman. Amusement curves her lips thinking of the poor man trying to shift naked, “A real life Clark Kent.”

To his question, her brows slightly furrow until she realizes what happened, “No, I didn't. I'm sorry. I have Berd's protection so that mental communication must be initiated by me. I was wondering when it seemed you were studying me.” Her smile returns, “Very human like.”

The revelation Devlin can change his mind to, seemingly, be another slaps the look of surprise back on her face. Though she wonders if he would be able to get back to Devlin. Perhaps that is why he neither attempts nor speaks of it further. He drops it and she does not pursue.

“Certainly. D'Ombra? What does the name mean?”

"Clark who? Never heard of him. Is he another shifter?" Devlin asks and then shrugs. Strange all the shape shifters there seem to be. He'd thought they were more rare this far from Chaos.

The man shrugs again, "The name, D'Ombra? It just means Of Shadow in some language or another, I think it was called Itilian or something like that.

"As far as Berd's protection... I don't blame you. He looks down at his wrist. "Maybe someday I'll figure out what Nightbrand is able to do before it surprises me. But, just don't touch it and you should be safe. It assures me that it must be in contact with someone to communicate that way. Though that's not always a guaranty, this time I believe it."

Devlin looks up again at her. He can't remember the last time he'd spoken at such length about himself or what he can do... Then he does; it was with his teacher, Morden. That was a very long time ago now it seems. Then he wonders about Trista. He doesn't think that she can shift, she seems to surprised by things he can do. But there is always something special about members of The Family from what he's seen. Like James' and his strength or Jonnee's speed. He'd seen the girl break the bars in the dungeon, making much lighter work of it than Devlin himself could have done, he's not even sure he would have been able to do so; not that he even thought about doing so. He was about to simply shift through the bars when she pulled them free of their moorings. So there was strength. Cyan or Berd mentioned something about combat ability, something about defending Berd? or was that Cyan? Whichever, he's sure that the woman could likely take him in any type of fight, that's not where his strengths lay. He wonder's for a moment about her mind as well and wonder's if she really needs Berd to protect her mind. Maybe that is her weekness... He shouldn't pry.
This message was last edited by the player at 00:40, Thu 30 Aug 2007.

Laughter spills from Trista; not hesitant or awkward laughter, but genuine mirth. “A shifter? Yes, you could say that, of a sort. Actually, he was a comic book character where I grew up.” Realizing that will also likely be an alien term to the man, she elaborates, “A fictional character of great strength and speed. By day, he worked at a newspaper, but when trouble brewed, he'd hide himself away for a few seconds and pop out as Superman with all these amazing abilities. He was trying to keep his powerful identity a secret.” It proves more difficult than she thought to explain the comics.

“Ah Italian. I don't know much, but it's similar to Spanish which I know quite a bit. I should have recognized it! I was just not thinking back to those languages.”

Her eyes flick around the area and it seems they still have some time before the sun will rise. She's glad to be standing in the light rain talking with Devlin. She nods about Nightbrand and probes, “How did Nightbrand come to be your companion?”

Devlin smiles at Trista's laughter. It is good to see her laugh. She'd obviously feeling in better spirits than he's seen her in since meeting her. Was it really less than a day. He listens to her explain about this Clark fellow. He finds it interesting. He's read fiction, but never anything with such fanciful characters.

"Nightbrand was given to me by Morden, my teacher, when I discovered that I was a shape shifter. He told me that it was a gift from one of my parents. Sometimes I wonder if it..."

He pauses and changes tracks, "It is more than a companion. It is also a protector of sorts. But there are times when I wonder if it follows my agenda or that of the person that gave it to me, whichever parent that was."

Devlin looks up into the night sky, the storm is definitely passing.

He believes the person that left him Nightbrand was also his mother because of Nightbrand's ability to change form and adapt to Devlin's. He's starting to think more an more that his father may not even know he exists. Perhaps he'd been headed in the wrong direction all along. Maybe the person he should be seeking out was at the other end of the universe. Maybe he should have been headed for Chaos rather than in the other direction.

When he looks back down at Trista he says, "Tell me more about Trista. How did you come to meet Berd? I think he said something about you defending him?"

...It had to do with Charyk. He was there, but he doesn't remember Trista. He was concerned with other things. He only stayed long enough to make sure his friends were well and then he'd left.

So Devlin, too, received gifts from one of his parents. The similarities between them prove an interesting path to explore, though their differences are also vast. Trista's father had been involved in her life, which was great in the beginning. But then...

A jaw clenches and she leaves that train of thought behind. “It is good to have something which protects you. But if you are concerned over its agenda – have you had Berd look into Nightbrand? I don't know, but he seems to have those types of analyzing abilities. Maybe he could ferret out the truth, or part of it.”

Turning the conversation to Trista would normally stiffen her stance and put her on edge, but nothing of the sort happens now. She leans back against Dorian's stone fortress with a thoughtful look on her face.

“I was traveling to Charyk because I had heard it was a crossroads where all sorts of information might be obtained. The war against the Archons was going strong when the caravan arrived. I helped to get people to a church inside for protection.

“Berd crashed down through a hole blasted through the ceilings. His little body looked pretty beat up and I picked him up to see if I could help. I had never seen a dragon before, of any size. He's a beautiful creature,” her voice turns wistful, “in many ways.”

In her normal tones, she continues, “He allowed me to help him and we came across James. Then a large creature of the Archons which James dispatched with some support from both Berd and myself.”

A bemused smile sits on her face, “Through my conversations with Berd, I fell in with the group. I guess it was good to have a purpose which had some meaning. I haven't even spoken to half the members of the group. Odd, that. Even odder, it's been a mere three days.”

Tilting her head, she focuses on Devlin again, “On our way from that other Charyk to Cardiagart, Merideth returned to the group. James, well, he was happy. And two days later, you returned. As you say, the Flow seems to be tugging. Perhaps the time is drawing near to actually put an end to all of this.” She's not speaking from naivety, but from hope.

"Some of those in the group are not very easy to speak to, you've not missed much. The only problem is that they have a hard time deciding to do anything. They've not always taken kindly to my habit of making decisions quickly and acting on them without consulting the committee first."

Devlin chuckles remembering that.

"An old woman I met thought that the time was growing near when I'd be needed, of course she said that nearly 100 years ago, for me that is. For you it might have been the day afore yesterday; time can be a strange thing in Shadow.

"So maybe you're right, maybe the time does draw near.

"I'm really in no hurry to get to Amber, to tell the truth. I was just headed there because I didn't know where to begin looking for Cyan. Figured if I was really needed that we would eventually cross paths."

Devlin lets himself slide down the wall to sit on the wet ground. "It should be interesting to see what happens in the morning."

Taking her cue from Devlin, Trista sits on the ground, leaning against the wall next to the man though on the side away from Nightbrand. Her arms rest on her bent knees. She turns to face the man, studying his strong profile. She seems to be deciding something and finally nods almost imperceptibly at what ever she concludes of the man.

“Interesting? I agree. I have to admit, this whole excursion has been interesting even if we've had to sit in a hut for hours on end.

“I understand about committees. Zane,” she's able to say the name without pain biting through her voice, “tried to have a committee of sorts, but it didn't work out. In the end, it came down to Zane and Christopher. I was there and included, but I firmly put myself behind them in the decision-making process.”

Her eyes grow wistful and far away for a few moments before the jump back to the present and she smiles warmly at the man in the cold rain. “You've been needed, in more ways than one.” A person comment, there, one easily discernable by Devlin if he has a mind: he's been invaluable to Trista this night.

“So while the others sleep away this beautiful night,” no irony stings her words as she tilts her head up to feel the rain on her face, “tell me something more. Tell me how you came to join this group. I get the feeling you were not there in the very beginning.”

"It was Luke actually." Devlin replies. "When I'd finally sniffed out another that traveled across shadow..." He suddenly pauses there and looks at Trista.

"Cyan and the others call it the myriad worlds I think. I've found it difficult to call it that, even after seeing them for myself; all of them stretched out before me in the underflow. It has to do with the way I shift from world to world. In wolven form I shift into the darkness, the space between one world an another. It is not a smooth transition like it seems to be for the others. I can move from darkness to darkness without actually leaving that... void." He doesn’t really know what to call it. Again he thinks that he should talk to Berd.

Then he goes on with his original story, "Anyway, the one I found was headed for Amber and then things changed. Luke showed up, seemingly at random, now I know better. Serena..." the name stings less and less the more he uses it "...decided to join the rest of the group and I followed. After all she was the only link I had to the place I was looking for."

"We arrived just as they were headed into a gate that lead to the archon's world, or an archon world.

"At the time I thought I'd joined the group by chance, but I also believed in chance back then. Now I would say I was recruited, by Luke."

He looks up at the night as well. "All nights are beautiful, in their own way." He says, the word nights stressed in an odd way that says he's talking about more than it seems. "I've spent a lot of time outside, and I prefer it out here."

Devlin turns back to the girl. "At any rate, it may have only been a month ago as time went for most of the group, perhaps a little longer for Cyan, I'm not sure. No, I was not there at the beginning and there are still a few holes in my knowledge about what's really going on."

In response to Devlin's comments on Shadow versus the Myriad Worlds, Trista nods, “I am much the same, though our reasons are different. While you travel through the shadow, I simply have called the Worlds, 'Shadow,' since I learned of them. My father's doing, of course. Both Dorian and Berd have given me lessons on the proper terminology.” No disdain colors the emphasis, simply a certain self-mocking humor.

“I have attempted to change my vocabulary, though 'Myriad Worlds' is a bit too poetic for me. Ironically, I've never thought of 'Shadow' as being derogatory, or to mean those people are less real. The idea is ludicrous. To me, 'Shadow' was always simply a name for the Worlds, one that holds a beautiful mysticism. But I do not wish to hurt anyone's feelings, and so I gladly submit to calling them the Worlds.”

The man continues and Trista listens with rapt attention. Although Devlin does not illuminate the details, she comes to understand he followed others to the group though in a round-about way.

Then Devlin speaks that soft, beautiful name again: Serena. Knowing he carries on a telepathic conversation with the woman right now, Trista wonders where Serena is. She must be close unless she carries the power of Berd within her soul. That's not impossible considering the people Trista has met lately.

Perhaps she should relinquish Devlin so that he might concentrate on his talk with Serena. At the thought, an unexpected loneliness dampens the woman for no logical reason. No, if he found Trista too distracting, he would take his leave. Wouldn't he?

Decidedly staying put, a weight lifts and thoughts of solitude vanish.

Recruited by Luke, a man Trista has not even met though she caught glimpses of him from Berd. She thinks back to their journey from Charyk and does not remember him there. Further back, she remembers James mentioning the name of 'Luke' to refer to some apparition which did not linger. Someone who comes and goes, perhaps?

Both looking into the dark night, seeing rain drops materialize out of blackness to fall on their faces, Trista nods at Devlin's sentiments, “I think you're right.” She hears something more in his voice, understanding he alludes to more than the cycle of darkness. However, she can't discern what it may be and although curiosity tugs at her, she will not pry.

She meets his gaze when he turns back to her. “Hm, time again. It shifts and swerves and makes me dizzy. I can only judge time based on my own viewpoint which can be drastically different from those of others.

“I certainly don't pretend to understand what's going on. But I listen and slowly gather more pieces to fit complete the puzzle. Hopefully, I'll get there one day. Though I don't want to linger on complicated plots which make the brain fizzle right now. I'd rather just enjoy this.” She offers an uninhibited smile.

“I am curious about – Nightbrand. I've never come across an item that speaks before. Not only speaks, but makes decisions for himself. Sentient. I know you've said you don't know everything about him, but is it common in the realms you walk and the circles of your friends to have sentient items of such power?”

This message was deleted by the player at 12:36, Sun 09 Sept 2007.

"I've only seen one other... sentient item, though I doubt it is like Nightbrand." Devlin relies to the question. "And then I didn't know it until it spoke. Aaron's sword is more than a sword, but more than that I don't know. It may be common that those that hold such items keep their secrets well."

Devlin looks down at his arm, "What do you know of it?" He asks the thing wrapped about his forearm.

There are several moments of silence.

Then Devlin shrugs and looks back at Trista, "Or it may be that the items themselves keep their own secrets well."
This message was last edited by the player at 18:43, Sun 09 Sept 2007.

Attempting to picture Aaron's sword, Trista can only remember having a glimpse of it on his back; she didn't see the man wield the weapon. An eyebrow rises as Devlin questions Nightbrand and a trickle of chuckles trails as the bracer keeps quiet. “I suppose he has his own mind then.”

The gradually lightening sky catches the woman's attention. Trista tilts her head back against the wall and a soft sigh puffs a bit of steam into the air. “Morning is coming. If I'm going to get my run in, I better get going.”

Yet, she lingers, sitting there with the (now) gentle rain splashing against her face. Finally, she turns to Devlin, searching for eye contact. Once she has it, she smiles, “I apologize for keeping you up all night, but I must admit to being selfish – I'm glad you were here with me.” There's an instinctual wanting to reach out and give the man a hug, but Trista refrains, settling for lightly squeezing his hand.

Pushing herself to her feet, she smiles down to the man again, “I won't go far, just around the perimeter.”

"I thank you as well," Devlin says as he too pushes himself up off the ground. "Our talk has helped me to see some things differently."


"But if I may ask one more question before you go running off."

He smiles only because she does plan on running off. "You told me the name that you know your father by, but can you tell me what he looked like?"

Devlin's play on words earns a chuckle and then Trista nods as she responds, “Of course. Duard had dark hair though not as dark as mine. A little warmer shade, too, with touches of red, I suppose. Not strong, but there. Clear blue eyes and pale skin. He was maybe four or five inches taller than I am with narrow shoulders and a slim build.

“He traveled as a merchant, or at least that's what he told me. He seemed to like expensive and exotic things. I-” The words abruptly stopped as Trista realizes she was about to tell Devlin things he would not want to know. Things about her suspicions surrounding her father. Maybe one day he will ask again.

“Well, that's about it concerning what he looked like. Still trying to figure out if you might have heard of him?”

When Trista said that Duard had dark hair with touches of red, Devlin's heart almost skipped a beat, but he did not let it show outwardly. But then she said the man was slim. But the dark hair with touches of red still sparked his curiosity.

"Actually, yes." he says in replay to her question, and now he is even more curious. But he tries not to let it show as he asks in an offhand way, "Did your father ever mention his parents?"

He expects the answer to be no, but it could never hurt.

Stormy eyes look off in the impenetrable distance as Trista thinks back before she offers what answers she has. “Not directly. I saw him so seldom, and he never stayed long, so we mostly talked about me. However, he did tell me tales of Amber and the Great Pattern. Of Random, Corwin, Fiona, Benedict, and I think maybe a Julian was mentioned. And Oberon.

“Well, I can't be sure, but I believed he was related to them all somehow. This will sound silly, but when I was little, I fancied him some kind of half brother to King Random. A silly girl's dreaming of royalty, I'm sure.”

And yet, her manner indicates she still believes it.

“He didn't really talk of too many other people, so I guess I just thought perhaps...” Trailing off, she ends with a helpless shrug. Futile, certainly. She cannot know who her extended family really is.

Unless she takes Berd up on his offer.

Devlin nods as Trista speaks and gives him just about the answer he expected.

"Go for your run, I’ll be right about here, somewhere. I need to think."

Duard was the first... make that second Amberite that he'd heard of that had dark hair with red highlights. He wondered, for only a moment, if it was simply coincidence and dismissed the notion entirely; there was no such thing. But just because two people had similar hair did not mean they were related. There was still that small chance that they were closely related and Devlin would not dismiss the notion completely until he was sure.

But who was this Carl Corey. He'd been drilled on all of the Ambers; all of the elders at least. None, at least that he could recall, matched the description of the man. There were at least two though that he did not have descriptions for. All he knew of them was a story about angering Oberon and being sent off to fight in a war from which they never returned. Some presumed them dead, but there was no guarantee or that. He wondered how he might get their descriptions. Perhaps their brother, but how to get that one to even talk of them, or to talk to Devlin for that matter, that was the question. It seemed they indeed needed information from Amber, but Devlin was loath to enter that place until he was sure he knew who the traitor was. He secretly hoped that this Carl Corey knew nothing of him, or the powers he possessed.

Devlin had walked as he thought and now found himself at the entrance to Dorian's outer shelter. He leaned against the wall next to the door and continued thinking as Trista ran circles around the building.

He wondered if Benedict knew of his brothers and if they were somehow involved if he knew of that as well. But he did not believe that. From the history Devlin had been told, Benedict was always the one that was first in defense of Amber. He almost dismisses the entire notion right there... but still, they needed to find this mysterious Amberite with the black and red hair, the gray and silver eyes.

The sun was coming up and soon Devlin should go inside. Put forth some notions of what He thought they should do next, though some of those notions he did not necessarily believe in. It was time to get devious, to mislead those that might be watching them; throw them a few red herrings for a change.

While part of her feels reluctant to leave Devlin's side, another part anxiously puts her feet in motion to find release in the rain. Trista removes her boots and socks, tucking them inside the fortress, but not within the original hut before getting out into the rain once again. Trista angles away from the fortress at a slow pace, warming up. When she judges her distance from the structure will give her a quarter mile run, she increases her speed and starts a round path around the perimeter.

The sound of bare feet rhythmically pounding against uneven ground mixes with the subsiding rain to give Trista's mind a hypnotic beat. The night had been eventful culminating in a ray of pristine light beaming across the dusty cobwebs of her soul. Devlin, Berd, Nightbrand, fathers, and lovers all make an appearance in the misty rain.

The situation at hand could seem hopeless, but the newly born Trista finds hope very much alive. The sensation almost overwhelms her. Yet, as she runs her circles, catching glimpses of Devlin as he walks, she finds her lips turning up more and more of their own accord. The man has given her much to think on, not the least of which stands her (and his) parentage.

Eventually, the sun bursts over the horizon and Trista heads back to the hut, sneaking inside to gather clothing out of her pack and changing outside between the buildings. The sun brings a new day with new rays of hope, and Trista will strive to catch each crystalline one.