Some time during the night, the storm died down to something a little more reasonable.

The wind, while still fairly strong, no longer threatens to tear apart the stone reinforced shelter, the lightning has stopped, and the rain is not quite so torrential.

The air, slowly brightening as morning spreads across the land, smells fresh and clean.

Beldrin is awake, having slept soundly, for the first time in a while.  Compared to his former accomodation, this shelter is not too uncomfortable, and he has the advantage of knowing that nobody here is planning to hang him.  At least not any time soon.

The cube is nearby, somewhere.  He isn't sure exactly where, and it isn't his problem now.  Cyan and her allies will dispose of it, safely... in fact, for all he knows, they might have done so already.

Around him now, the others are stirring.

Dorian had conjured a cot for himself in the corner (and for anyone else who needed one.) Now, he sat on the edge of it, still clad in his long underclothes. His hair a tangle, rather than the glossy black curtain that normally framed his sharp features.

He felt rested and strong, now, if only a little sore from the canvas and wood cot. He was trying to decide how he felt. Somehow, he still felt a bone-deep, rotten fatigue that ate at him. It was less now, a whisper deep down in the dark places of his soul. How long had it really been? This had all begun in Cadinigart. Perhaps that was when the weariness crept in, when he saw it all once again, when memories came flooding back.

We had others with us back then, he thought. What were the names? Andrej, Jack of course, Kaelyn, Leonardo--was that his name, and Jonnee, too.

And Cyan. At first, she had been like an itchy wool blanket. Now, that blanket was a comfort.

That must be it: Cadinigart had bore down on him with unusual, unexpected weight. It would pass.
This message was last edited by the player at 01:48, Sat 18 Aug 2007.

As those inside the hut begin to stir the door opens and Devlin steps inside. He looks back once to see if Trista is coming also and then looks back inside, "Morning," he says, "I hope everyone is well rested. The storm seems to be passing, finally."

"Rested enough," Dorian says. "True rest will only come with time, and much of it. And I fear I will not know that rest until I am either dead or this quest is complete, so I find myself anxious to press forward. How did you sleep, Devlin?" His eyes glance towards the door, noting that he had come from outside. Either he didn't sleep at all, or he slept only a little. Given the mans talents, sleeping outside would be a surprise--even with a storm raging.

Through the calming storm, Trista watched the rains lighten around the fortress. Not exactly a sunrise, it was nevertheless still beautiful. As Devlin made his way in through the fortress and the hut, Trista sighed, “Tequila would be good right about now.”

She follows the man into the hut. Even though Trista's energy reserves are great, at some point in the night she had put on a Gortex jacket to prevent the rain from completely draining her.

Upon entering, her eyes flick around the room to see Beldrin awake on his cot, Cyan seemingly still asleep, (Berd?), and Dorian sitting up with moppish hair and – she blinks twice to clear her eyes and make sure she's really seeing long johns. A grin immediately pops on her face which she fights back down.

Trista slips her jacket and pack off, setting them on the floor. “Perhaps some food and Berd can let us know if the others retrieved the second cube. Once they're disposed of, we can set about whatever plans we might have.”

The smile comes back and before she stops herself, she deadpans, “Nice p.j.'s, Dorian.” Honestly, she could have stopped herself, but some long dead part of her is re-awakening.

Beldrin clambers to his feet, albeit a little unsteadily.  "The storm has died?  Good, that should make travel a little easier, at least."

He stretches, then gasps, then starts coughing.  When he recovers somewhat, clutching at his ribs, he remarks, "I suppose I probably shouldn't have done that...  So, what plans do you have for getting away from here?"

"It seems that I might have difficulty travelling far."

In answer to Dorian's question Devlin replies, "I rested well enough." he lies, but he was not really tired. He's had a lifetime of rest.

"I too find that I am anxious to press on."

Beldrin is still having dificulty, but now that Dorian has cured his illness... He moves closer to the man, I may be able to repair any damage now that Dorian has cured your illness. Will you permit me to try?" he asks Beldrin, "It may be necessary to travel far, and quickly; one never knows."

"I suspect that there is no remaining damage, as such." replies Beldrin, "Rather, I believe, it's just the effects of poor diet and lack of excercise since I was arrested.  Weakness, and stiffness of the joints.  Nothing that good food and a little more activity won't cure, given time."

"My thanks for the offer though."

His expression grows thoughtful for a moment, as he ponders the situation, "How soon do you intend to leave here?  Do you need transport?  Horses, perhaps?  Or a wagon?  What about supplies?  I may be able to help with those, if required... at least tell you the best places to find them."

Cyan blinks to wakefulness as people enter, her jade eyes dull with sleep.  She slowly sits, her quill pen falling from her fingers; there is ink upon her hand, and she stares down at the pages of the book before her with muddled confusion.  Curled up beside her, Berd finally stretches, letting out a thin, whining sigh before shaking out his wings.  One of them slaps her in the face, and she brushes it aside with only the faintest of frowns, well-used to such intrusions.

"A good morning to all."

The little drake glances toward Trista, and his dim eyes slowly begin to shine.  He cracks open his jaws, revealing dozens of tiny, needle-sharp teeth, and breaths out a scintillating cloud that grows into a small vista, almost like a holographic display in the middle of the shelter.

There is a road, a dotted line running down its middle.  It leads directly toward a giant, smoking mountain, far away.  A sign at the side of the road reads '100 KM to waste disposal'.  A smaller one, beneath that, simply states: 'Underflow R-59'.

Two cars appear.  One, a Volkswagon Bug - an original, painted white.  The other, a sleek porsche, of the newer variety, glossy black on the dark road.  They roar toward each other, and as they whip by, the vista slows to slow motion.

Heading away from the volcano is Berd, somehow human-sized and relaxing in the Bug's seat, his clawed forelimb extended in a wave to the other car.  Luke drives the sleek porsche toward the volcano, his own hand displaying an appallingly large cube for Berd.

Time accelerates, and so do the cars, whipping away from each other.

The vista dissolves.

"Well," Cyan notes, slowly closing her sketchbook after verifying that what she drew last night has worth (and did not, for example, devolve into a scribble as time passed).  "I grasp the meaning, if not the specifics."  She glances around, noting the others.  Devlin and Trista appear to have been up all night...Dorian..not.  Lids blink over emerald eyes as she takes in his hair, his clothing, and Cyan covers a smile with her fingers.  "Indeed," she responds to Trista's sally - what PJ's are, she has no solid idea, but she can certainly guess.  "Perhaps a comb, Dorian?"  One hand holds out her own; with her hair cut shorter from her time in armor, it is much easier to deal with mornings.  She can do without for a few minutes, and Dorian's dignity is no doubt at stake.

Everyone seems to be interested in moving on - Cyan can hardly fault them, being so herself.  "Breakfast, then?  Or shall we eat as we go?"  Berd whines piteously, and she clamps one hand about his snout, giving him a small shake.  "You.  You have eaten more than your fill for days, now."  The words might be harsh, but her voice is quiet and soft, her grip loose.  Cyan shakes her head.  "Breakfast for you, then.  I shall seek out some worms in the grass."

Berd jerks his nose away and blows a disgusted raspberry, his forked tongue flickering.


Cyan winks at Trista, then shrugs.

As Devlin deals with Beldrin, Cyan quickly packs, then rises to stretch, arms above her head.  She winces once, and rubs her shoulder, a surprised expression on her face.  "Not so long ago I could sleep on the ground for days on end," she murmurs.  "I have grown soft."  She waves to Dorian's cot.  "When next we sleep, I shall most certainly pester you for one of the same, Dorian, wise man that you are."

"As you wish." Is Devlin's simple reply to Beldrin.

Then to the the others in the room, "Are we to join with the others or will we proceed from here?", he asks.

Dorian is already pulling his drab, brown tunic over his head. He pauses to glance quizzically at Trista. "Pee Jays?"

He finishes with the tunic and reaches for his drab tan breeches. He ignores the women for the most part, sensing that there is some joke there. Did they expect him to sleep in regal attire, cloak and all, with perfectly groom hair and never needing to shave? Perhaps the hut-fortress offered less privacy than the questors had grown accustomed to; perhaps they really had expected Dorian's appearance to remain static.

Let them have their moment. He was as human as the next man, save only for a keen psyche and awareness of sorcery and conjuration--and a few other tricks, most of which he had managed to keep secret even from Berd. If anything, Luke had taught him to embrace his humanity--though that wasn't really the being's intent.

"Thank you," he says, not bothering to add much warmth to the sentiment--though he meant it no less.

He accepted the comb from Cyan. The curls in his hair meant frequent snags and tangles. Not the funnest part of his mornings.

The curious look on Dorian's face satisfies and Trista let's it lie, not really wanting to explain – explanations ruin any amusement. The image conjured by Berd puts another smile on her lips, she recognizes Luke from Berd's earlier visions. Father and son in very different vehicles. “Nice cars. Well, that looks taken care of.”

As the others speak, Trista turns to Berd, “I think I can get you something out of my pack to tide you over... nothing much and certainly not tasty, but until we find you a proper breakfast, worms notwithstanding.” She digs in her pack for a fairly good sized jar of beef jerky and opens it up, offering it to the little dragon.

More amusement with the comb and Cyan's wink. Trista is in good spirits this morning; the night did her good.

In her head, she thinks of the other group, the members and their mission which she mostly understands. Concentrating, she does a tally of everyone involved in this quest. She blinks. Twice.

“Berd, Devlin, Cyan, Dorian, James,” she continues naming each one of them, “Banglen-Yp, Chance, Merideth, Tahirah, Roman, Morgan, Aaron,” she gives Berd a curious look, “and Luke.”

Her eyes rise to take in the others, “Not to mention Beldrin and any others who show up today,” just a small amount of irony taints that last thought... it seems people, new and old alike including herself, keep popping up. “That's at least 13 people. All traveling to Amber? That's one way to draw attention to ourselves.” Her count actually proves to be conservative, considering she does not know about Serena or Aaron's blade.

Her eyes turn pointedly to Cyan, whom she considers the leader (not having spoken with Aaron yet), “Perhaps there is a better way to do this. It's been my experience that small groups tend to get more done, are less seen, and move more quickly than large groups. Perhaps there is another objective, or two, which could be pursued at the same time. Something from before I joined your group? A lead?”

Devlin thinks Trista's idea is a good one and he says so, "That might be a good idea. While the others go to Amber to discover what they can there we can do something else. It’s true that I was headed for Amber myself." He pauses long enough to look at Cyan and then at Trista, his gaze lingers just an instant longer on Trista. "But my own needs can wait."

The man crouches down and begins to doodle in the dirt floor of the hut, "We could seek out the hiding place of Harbonah, or we might seek out Sephiroth, the one Tamiel told us of, that is if this Sephiroth yet exi..."

He stops suddenly and turns to Berd, "Berd, did you discover the thing that Metaron told us we should look for at Charyk? The thing that sundered broken god?"

"You seem to already be decided against going to Amber yourself, Devlin," Dorian says. "I can't imagine you'd be unwelcome by the others, if you wished to go there. As for myself, I am undecided. It's not a secret that I am supposed to have family there--though I'm told my mother has passed long ago. I would like to see it again, yet I think I am more comfortable--even useful--going elsewhere."

Cyan sobers with Dorian's serious poise. She inclines her head a touch as he takes the comb, and steps back to give him room.  The Day Dorian begins to emerge, with the change of clothing and the attack upon his snarls.  She looks down at her own clothing with some distaste.  "I miss my travelling clothes," the bard murmurs.  "Berd?"

The drake sighs, and for an instant a thin ring of light passes down over Cyan, head to toe.  Cleansed of the rigours of travel, she pats her shirtsleeves and grimaces.  "Not a bath, but it will suffice."  Berd lets out an indignant squawk, and she knuckles his eyeridges, to his obvious pleasure, before bending to shake out her hair.

The moment Trista offers, Berd galumphs across the floor between Cyan's bedroll and her pack, whining piteously as she searches.  A portion of jerky is seized, delicately so, and the dragon settles down to gnaw with needle-teeth, humming with pleasure.

Cyan, for her part, shakes her head at the litany of names, but chooses to listen to Devlin and Trista discuss.  Trista's question comes, and Cyan holds up a finger, considering, as Devlin speaks of his own ideas.  There is Sephiroth, of course.  She supposes they could find a way to speak to the nephillim, to question them.  But her eyes fall upon her sketchbook, lying open on her bedroll.  There, on the page next to the beginning sketch of Trista, is a drawing.

Her heart pounds, and she slowly picks the book up.  An onyx chair sits before a bank of shimmering lights in the air.  The walls are dark.  The floor is black, but rippling with reflections of the floating colours.  Cyan swallows thickly.

She remembers this.

Berd, rolling on the ground in his attempts to tear apart the beef jerky, glances up at Devlin's question.  Still lying on his back, his feet in the air, talons locked in mortal combat with the tough slab of meat, he chimes an affirmative.


"I may have something," Cyan begins, slowly.  She stares down at the book, lips thin, eyes like dark rubies.  "I remember...certain things.  It is possible...possible, mind, that I could create a palanquet to within Harbonah's fortress."  She looks up.  "It may not be easy," she hastens to explain, "and a palanquet may not function properly - the Archons hold power over the Underflow as well.  And even if we do enter, the risk is terrible."  A shadow passes over her face, and she shudders.  "Harbonah's personal power is...appalling."

But then her jaw sets.  "And yet, we might be able to find out something critical should we journey there.  What do you think of this?"  Fear gnaws at her belly, but what other choice do they have?

"I will go where Trista... and Cyan decide to go." Devlin replies to Dorian. "I was never in any real hurry to get there anyway."

While he speaks Berd answers his question, "So we have many paths we could follow, including to Amber if that's what's decided."

Then the man turns back to berd, he's about to ask something but stops, mouth open of the verge of speaking, his head turns to the side as he studies the drake. Devlin would love to study the creature, to see what makes Berd, Berd...  Devlin has his own suspicions, but he keeps them to himself, for now.

He turns back to Cyan. "You know, if we can get to Harbonah's fortress it would not be necessary for one of us to go there. I could send one of my creatures, especially if there is some small animal you recollect, something that might not be noticed moving about within this fortress. One of us may need to go there only long enough to deposit it."
This message was last edited by the player at 03:14, Thu 23 Aug 2007.

Beldrin listens to the conversation around him, bemused bt the strange names, and stranger locations which are mentioned by those who have rescued him from the gallows.  He speaks, at last, "It seems that you have all been somewhat busy, in the service of Amber.  If you have need to go somewhere else, to continue your work, then there is no need for you to personally escort me all the way to Amber.  I am capable of finding my way back there, which would free you to make your own choices regarding your destination."

Finished, Dorian returned the comb to Cyan with a note of thanks. He let his eyes linger on her a moment. "Fascinating--and good idea, too. We need that kind of information."

Dorian only nods at Devlin's declaration. Interesting.

"I suppose if all we're doing is spying, Devlin's creatures might be ideal. Minimal risk, it seems. I think at least one or two of those who were sent out by Fiona should return to Amber. That would be who? Myself, James, Cyan, and Aaron? James and Aaron seem to be the acknowledged scions of Amber. I think that may be worth something. If only a little."

"I should bespeak Aaron, inform him of what transpires," Cyan states, shuffling her cards.  Out pops the image of a weary, armored man, a shade guarding his back..  Cyan found this one by feel - the spirit echoed within the card is very familiar to her.

"A great deal of work on behalf of Amber, Beldrin.  Many have fallen, lost and never to be known by those who benefit."  Topaz eyes stare through the walls, into the distance.  I will sing their songs, should I live through this myself.  "But I suspect others of our group will head to Amber.  We should send some of the new people, as well - they need to be recognized as Questors, that their reports hold weight should..."

...should none of those known now remain to speak, in the future.

"As for sending a spy, I do not believe that would be wise."  Her smile twists into a grimace.  "There are no natural vermin within the fortress.  Nothing lives but the archons and their servants - their slaves, their spies, the Iron Warriors, and so forth.  Your small animals, Devlin - they contain echoes of power, with no strength to hide the light of their spirits.  They will be seen and, if you are lucky, destroyed.  You do not wish a piece of yourself falling into the hands of the Seraphim, Devlin."  She slowly shakes her head, a dark memory in her eyes.

"No, any that enter must have protection for their spirits and minds.  Berd's cloaking.  Dorian's subtle sorcery and invisible might."  Her smile returns, it wobbles, then firms.  "If we go, it must be as a small group.  Only with the gestalt of talents might we enter secretly, search, hide, and crush any who discover us before the alarm is raised."

One slender, calloused fingertip taps the card; it rings like a bell, once, a shimmering vibration in the air echoed in the Underflow itself.

"Aaron of Ald Thiriel," Cyan whispers.  "Hearken."

"I should go to the Harbonah's fortress, then," he says. He wonders a moment at what he's just said. "And I think it reasonable that Cyan and Devlin join us. I suspect Aaron will wish to join us, perhaps, but who can predict that one's mind? And Berd of course, as Cyan already suggested."

He glances at Cyan, now deep in conversation with Aaron.

"Do you think you could assume the form of an Archon, Devlin? I know there is risk of the mind you assume taking over, but perhaps I could assist in preventing that, if you wish it.

On Charyk, I found a way to hide myself from the Archon's sight. They see with their minds, not with any physical means. At that time, I could only blank out a portion of the world. To them, it was like a hole in their vision. I could experiment with more subtle forms of cloaking--though I believe it will take much more concentration to maintain such. Normally, the psyche itself would leave echoes they could see, but I've learned a few tricks about hiding mine. It makes a difference."

*ooc: at least, that's my understanding of it *shrug*

Amber, mostly to report from what Trista gathers. The lair of Harbonah, a being of power requiring power of the group. Something named Sephiroth which seems dropped by the others after Devlin makes the suggestion. Two strong possibilities and a third of which Trista knows nothing.

The woman's eyes flick to Devlin at his wish to travel with her, along with a small smile. She, too, feels a connection with the man after their night in the rain. Through the ensuing discussion, it becomes clear that only those with formidable power will seek Harbonah. This means Devlin and not Trista. Though she feels a taint of regret at losing both Delvin and Berd, Trista's training knows personal desires must be set aside for the goal. She also agrees; it would be foolish for her to attempt the Harbonah group. A different objective would be more suitable for the stormy-eyed woman.

Those in this small hut are whom she's gotten to know, some to a much smaller degree than others. Brief words were shared with both James and Banglen-Yp, but of the others, she only knows their names and faces. That, apparently, is about to change.

As Cyan pulls out a Trump, and Dorian plans with Devlin, Trista stands by. She would not interrupt and certainly, they have much to discuss. Hopefully, Cyan will sort out who will go where, and make sure someone who understands the entire story travels to Amber. Perhaps they will also reconsider the Sephiroth idea, whatever that is, and utilize the still large number of people needlessly traveling to Amber.
This message was last edited by the player at 17:21, Sat 25 Aug 2007.

"Talking to Sephiroth is a good idea, too. Perhaps we could send someone who is good with people... Chance maybe?"

He leans back and looks up at the ceiling for a moment, tapping his fingers on his leg.

"I think that would make sense, if he would go for it. I don't want to force anyone into anything, of course. Though ... it might be a good idea to send one of the fighters with him, in case something happens."

His eyes flick to Trista, study her for a moment. They speak a suggestion--or a question--that he doesn't verbalize.

"The cosmos is a dangerous place, these days."
This message was last edited by the player at 21:12, Sat 25 Aug 2007.

In response to Cyan's saying something about sending new people to Amber so that they know who they are Devlin says, "I've given this some thought and I think we should keep some secrets from Amber. They should not know everyone that works with this group. Tell Aaron that the group should not mention my name. We may want to extend that secrecy to others they know nothing of. I do recall correctly that there is someone in Amber that works against us, do I not? It would be best if that person does not find out everything we know. Perhaps it would even be best if they don't know exactly what it is we're doing. Call me paranoid, but I was taught well about this family that I belong to. From certain members of this group, that I trust, I may have no secrets, but for those I can not be sure of... it would be best to keep them in the dark."

Cyan begins to communicate with Aaron Dorian has his own ideas. It seems that Dorian thinks Trista can accompany Chance to speak with Sephiroth. Perhaps a good idea, cover several tasks at the same time. He too looks at Trista, he'll not ask her not to take on the task, but just like Dorian he will not ask her to take it on either. For some reason the wishes to remain with Trista, or her with him, he does not know why. Devlin still questions why he wants to watch out for her, but he will do so just the same. He can actually accomplish what Dorian suggests and also remain with Trista, one of the gifts of his abilities, he decides to worry about that when plans are more firmly in place.

"I have actually thought about taking the form of an Archon." He finally replies to one of Dorian's questions. "I can take their form without assuming there persona. I could even make us all appear to be Archons, it would take some time and plenty of food and rest in between, but it would be possible. The trouble is size, all of them I have seen are very large, or they are able to make themselves very large. I have not found it possible to make myself bigger than I really am except through trickery of a sort."

Devlin looks at Cyan, perhaps she will know more about how much size matters when she finishes her other conversation.

He turns his attention back to Dorian. "I can also disguise our psyches without actually changing them, that is if I know what an Archon's psyche looks like..."

Devlin suddenly remembers Beldrin, laying in the room and listening to the entire conversation. How could he forget the man was there, a spy, working for Amber, and him blathering on about plans he does not want Amber to know exist. He looks at the man, still not in perfect condition. He tries to sound as if he is not making a threat as he says "I hope you can keep what you've heard here to yourself. There are those in Amber that should not know what we are about. The problem is that none knows who it is that is working against us. Anyone that finds out about our plans may inadvertently pass that information on to the enemy." Devlin does not say more, but he knows that if the enemy finds out about their plans that he will know where the leak came from. Hopefully Beldrin understands what will happen if their plans are leaked.

Beldrin smiles at Devlin, though there is a certain degree of bitterness about the expression, "I have a career in the service of Amber, and I spend half my time making sure particular items of information do not reach the ears of specific persons there.  Some of those persons are at the palace."

"I well understand the necessity of keeping some things secret from those you may bear the responsibility of protecting."

"Of course, I can tell you that, but you will, naturally, realise that I may be lying to you.  Unfortunately, there is no way that you can guarantee my silence, short of killing me.  And even that is not a certainty.  Likewise, you could say that I am free to return home in safety, only to arrange for an unfortunate incident upon the road."

"Best, I think, to politely accept that both parties speak the truth, and to part on friendly terms."

"Berd can, of course, assist with the Cloak over whomever comes with us to the fortress," Cyan states, somewhat distracted, still reaching for Aaron with the palanquet.  "I leave that open to volunteers who believe they can be of assistance...though I believe some are better suited to certain tasks than others."

Her smile is uncertain from her broken concentration.  "I am ill-suited to navigating the river of politics in Amber, you see."

"As for Chance, again, that would be up to whomever chooses.  No doubt Luke will tag along at least part of the time."  Her mouth turns down in unconcious disapproval.  "As for your request, Devlin, I will pass it along to Aaron.  It is your right, of course.  It seems logical, though I deplore of the necessity."  Lying to allies, she considers with a shudder.  Is this how far we fall, due to the necessity?  Where will we draw the line?

Lying, in and of itself, is no terrible sin.  But it shifts the line that much closer.  Little you can do for the nonce, Cyan, save grin and bear it....

"But if you cannot yet accomplish shifting your size, Devlin, I do not believe it will matter.  So long as you can function in a small range of sizes..."  She trails off.  "I would rather have Berd cloak me than be an Archon," Cyan finishes.  "I do not think I would be useful in that form.  Not at all."

She listens to the back and forth between Beldrin and Devlin with some distaste.  There is, again, little they might do about Beldrin, save rape his mind or slay him.  She will allow neither, herself - it is a moot point.  Cyan considers where people stands, notes that Trista has not yet weighed in with her own feelings.

"Trista - I imagine all 'groups', and some not yet formed, are open for volunteers.  Including this one."  Said with a quick, absent smile, some of her attention still on the card.

"Aaron of Auld Thiriel."

A memory comes of Chance in the Inn, entertaining the women around him. Trista has no guess as to the man's abilities, though she does remember seeing his clothing changes to cloud-covered pajamas. Perhaps he can make some for Dorian... Trista suppresses a laugh though a smile sneaks its way to her lips.

She nods her understanding of Dorian's unspoken question, though she waits to respond on Cyan's decisions. She gives Devlin a quick smile as their eyes meet and then conversation turns to both shape-shifting and the merits of trust with Beldrin. A frown settles about Trista's eyes; she's slipped from her days of furtive planning. She had assumed Beldrin was safe, since he was a friend of Cyan. Poor assumption on her part.

Remembering the jar of jerky, now a bit lighter after Berd's bite, Trista sets about putting it away. Then Cyan speaks of volunteerism. Trista rises, attempting to keep the surprise from her face. She had thought those in charge would simply assign tasks based on known strengths.

A glance at each of the others and back to Cyan who attends her trump contact once again. “Honestly, I do not know where I would be most useful. Certainly, I can play the roll of bodyguard, but I am no diplomat. It sounds as if Chance would have that covered. As for Amber, again I'm no diplomat. Harbonah? It sounds like a being of great power. I will consider.”

Devlin smiles, chuckles a bit, and nods at Beldrin's response to what he said. "I did not pull you out of that dungeon just to do what those who made you a prisoner had planned. Cyan trusts you, if you say that you'll not give the information to anyone then that's good enough for me." And he dismisses any further thoughts on the matter, turning his thoughts to other things.
This message was last edited by the player at 01:10, Thu 30 Aug 2007.

Finished dressing and grooming now, Dorian says, "If I might suggest, it would seem we're nearing a point where we should include the others in our planning and discussing for efficiency reasons. Any luck with Aaron?"
This message was last edited by the player at 16:15, Mon 27 Aug 2007.

It seems they must wait for Cyan to make contact with Aaron and for input from the committee. So they wait...

...Devlin did not stop thinking about changing his size after mentioning it. It had been a while, quite a while, since he'd actually tried to increase his size and not just by artificial means like adding empty space to his innards. He sits studying his hand while he waits. As he does so he reaches out into his surroundings and tries to pull matter from outside of him, the very matter that makes up this world, into that hand... Mordan had told him that some shifters could actually change their physical size, but it was rare. He did not have the gift so could not tell Devlin how it might be done. ...Devlin continues to concentrate.

"Nothing yet," Cyan whispers.  Still waiting.  The others deserve to know her plans.  Perhaps they will have ideas, perhaps not, but Cyan will carry this through.  No more games.  No more haring about through the Myriad Worlds in search of the mysteries of creation.

Berd chomps on his chunk of beef jerky, and shakes it like a terrier with a rat.  Frustrated, he begins to gnaw.

With a nod, and a smile, Beldrin accepts Devlin's assurances, and lapses back into thought, considering options.


After a moment or two, the agent of Amber rushes into the outer portion of the shelter, where he can be heard being violently ill...

Trista considers her options as the others talk, taking into consideration advice from more than one source. Perhaps she has been short sighted in what she has to offer, yet there is one path which she feels might be best, regardless of her personal feelings.

A hand lifts to her stomach, and a frown creases her brow as she appears slightly agitated and confused.



Attempting to shrug off these bizarre, and uncomfortable, sensations, Trista quirks an eyebrow at Aaron's lack of a response. Perhaps something has happened. In a silence, Trista glances to Cyan, not wanting to disturb her. “I feel I might be best utilized assisting Chance, though it would have to be up to him. If he doesn't like the idea, then I will come with you, again with approval.” Her brow lifts toward Dorian, knowing he or Aaron would be the only ones who might object. Then again, perhaps Chance will accept her to speak with this Sephiroth.

Suddenly, Trista winces. Her eyes look back and forth along the floor line. A hand reaches out to grab Devlin's arm, well above Nightbrand. Hardly able to keep her feet, her other arm wraps around her stomach and she closes her eyes hard. “I – something's wrong.”

The woman has never been ill before and really doesn't recognize the nauseas overtaking her belly or the headache trouncing her mind. When Beldrin suddenly runs out and vomits, she understands. She's seen illness many times, she's just never experienced it. Trista let's go of Devlin and slides down a wall, holding her head in her hands.

Berd pulls his head back, staring at the beef jerky.  He hisses in disgust and pushes it aside, then hops away like a startled cat, his back arched.


The little drake leaps into the air, flitting like a bumblebee to where Trista stands doubled over.  His senses reach out, hunting through the layers of reality surrounding them, seeking the cause of the meat's spoilage.

"I have Aaron," Cyan whispers.  "Aaron."  He looks exhausted, as always.  Ever shouldering his past.  "We have news, and thoughts on where to...something transpires here."  Her sapphire eyes dart away from the card for an instant as she becomes aware, then return.  Reluctantly, Cyan stands but holds her ground.  "Berd will inform me if it is an attack - are you all well?  We have Beldrin - he is ill, and something is causing illness in Trista, as well as spoiling the food, here."

She takes a deep breath, and her voice firms.  The others can handle this, unless it grows too advanced - there is nothing she can do, and Cyan has Aaron 'on the line', as it were.  She must trust them, and deliver the word to Aaron.  Now.  "I plan to create a palanquet of Harbonah's stronghold, then take a small group to infiltrate and discover what we can."

Devlin does not miss the things that happen around him as he concentrates. He quickly puts one and two together and comes up with three...

He immediately stops what he's doing and rushes to Trista's side. "It's no attack." He says as he does so. Berd is already with her.

The man seems anxious and worried as he continues, "Sorry about your breakfast, old man. Check Trista, make sure there's no permanent damage; Cyan and Dorian too... Quickly now!"

He doesn't wait to see if Berd will comply with his order to hurry the inspection of his friends. What the hell was he thinking... He should have been more cautious...

Devlin rushes out the door of the hut into the buildings new antechamber and places a hand on Beldrin's shoulder. He hopes he did no serious damage. "Feeling better?" he asks as he reaches into the man's body with his senses, trying to quickly check vital organs.
This message was last edited by the player at 01:19, Thu 30 Aug 2007.

On the floor, Trista's head reels. Out on the periphery of her senses, she's mildly aware that Cyan, Devlin, and Berd (in his own way) speak. For the moment though, the uncomfortable, irritating, and alien sensations take up all her concentration.

A few moments crawl by before the crippling nauseas begins to dissipate.


Lifting her head, Trista's belly settles and her headache swiftly leaves. Strength once again returns to her limbs. “That was – odd.” Devlin seems to be outside the hut with Beldrin. Trista remains seated, somewhat confused as to what just happened. Then she looks at Berd, “Do you know what that was all about?”

At first, Dorian grows still. His eyes narrow and seem to search the empty space between things. Then he notes the reactions of Beldrin and Trista, and the furrows of his brow deepen.

The last thing they need is another setback.

"What do you mean its no attack; what is it?"

Beldrin straightens up, his face ashen, and looks, bleary-eyed, at Devlin.  "I thought I was feeling better.  It seems I was wrong.  I suppose that prison took more out of me than I suspected."

Using the inner wall for support, he starts back towards the interior of the shelter.

"I'll be fine, I believe.  It feels no worse than some hangovers I've experienced."

He pauses in the inner door, and sniffs...  "What is that stench?  It smells as though some animal died in here."  The agent looks about, locating Berd, to reassure himself that the drake is not the animal in question.

On the floor, a partly gnawed, and now ignored, piece of beef jerky decomposes...

Cyan glances off the palanquet with some concern as Aaron bespeaks Chance.  Seeing everyone slowly coming back to themselves, she returns her gaze to their sometime leader.

He has much to tell her.  A cube, the bargains, the cube's destruction by Luke...though that part is no mystery to them, as Berd has informed them.  But the rest?

Then comes his request, thrumming with alarm.  "Time is of short supply, Aaron," she replies, aloud as always.  Made nervous by his words, she bites a lip, a flush touching her cheeks for a moment.  "It will take me possibly 24 hours to properly forge a palanquet of the fortress - it will need to be a full one, not merely a sketch.  If you can do your work in Amber by then...please hurry, Aaron.  I would have you with us."  whatever their arguments in the past, whatever the current tension, Cyan knows that she fits well with Aaron when things 'go South'...they have had a great deal of practice.

"But I cannot wait for long.  And I cannot have all of the group with us.  This is a small operation, and we should divide our forces to better deal with our various problems.  And some are simply not suited to this task."

WILL Trista be leaving them?  If so, now would be a good time for her to step away.  She glances at the woman, studying her, then calling out.  "Trista - there is no rush, but if you wish, I can send you now."  Topaz eyes shine for an instant.  "Or you may prepare a touch longer."

Berd, for his matter, hovers around Trista.
This message was last edited by the player at 03:46, Fri 31 Aug 2007.

The smell of which Beldrin complains had gone unnoticed in the midst of her own odd dilemna, but now she catches the rotting meat scent. With a grimace, she closes down her nose, barely breathing through her mouth. Still disgusting, but not so powerful. Her eyes spy the jerky Berd had discarded. “I hope the whole jar isn't tainted.”

She rises to her feet and picks up the jar from her pack, carefully examining it and every so slightly unscrewing the lid to smell its contents. Then Cyan's question comes and Trista looks up at the woman. “Has Chance accepted? Then I will go if this is the best time though I would like to know what just happened to us.”

Her eyes turn to find Devlin.

Dorian's eyes narrow as the jerky decomposes before them. Not an attack? If dead meat can be decomposed, then why not living meat and flesh? He wanted to trust the others, but he wasn't so sure himself. (Though he believed they were perfectly sincere and honest in their claims.)

The meat had nearly finished its accelerated decomposition, now. He began to break the problem down. No one would target the meat specifically, so it must be an area-wide attack. the whole hut? A bigger area?

Of course, he could cause meat to decompose like that, couldn't he? Acid was one method, but the meat had no acid. Microbes, perhaps, to decompose the meat, was another, perhaps. That might explain the sickness, too.

If that was it, it provided an interesting problem, but not a unique one.

Cyan pauses as a rapid burst of information passes through her, to Berd, to Chance, and back again.  Then she nods, speaking aloud and through the card, simultaneously.  "Yes.  Chance accepts, should you desire.  Devlin as well, if he chooses to go.  I stand ready to send you through to Aaron."

She glances up.  "Berd feels the sickness could have come from Devlin's curing of Beldrin - in expelling it from his body, he pushed it into the room.  Altered."

Perhaps she was not affected because, like Dorian, she is not sufficiently close in nature to the others.

Once again, Dorian and Berd were thinking along similar lines. Sometimes, they could be brothers, except for the obvious differences. He nods and lowers his head and waits.

Devlin follows Beldrin back into the hut.

"I apologize, I'd thought when I said it was not an attack that everyone would assume it was I that caused the... the... I'm not even sure what to call it. But it seems there was no permanent damage to the living.

"Sorry about the meet, I doubt anything organic that was not still living may be entirely bad, at least in the immediate area."

Devlin looks around the room at his companions and continues to explain, "I almost had the... with a little more practice I will should be able to change my mass. I had it right on the tips of my fingers but it seems a slippery trick. My exertions seemed to have cause some minor distortions in this world in my immediate vicinity. Trista and Berd were closer to me, that might explain why she and the meat where effected the most. Beldrin, he's already not up to par and may be why he was effected worst of all."

The man does not make any excuses for his actions. He would not change them. The fact of the matter is that if he could master the ability to increase and decrease his mass that it would be a significant benefit to the entire group. If he could do so to himself it would not take him much longer to be able to effect others in the same way. What would the Archons do if they had an enemy that could match or better them with their own abilities. Devlin wants to go to this Harbonah's stronghold, not only to find out what he was doing, but to study these Archon's more closely... If he could.

"I will ensure that no one is in range the next time I attempt it." He finishes aloud.


After a moment Devlin turns to Beldrin, "I do apologize to you. If I had any idea that my experimentations would have effected you in such a manner, I would not have attempted it so close to others."

He hopes that everyone understands.
This message was last edited by the player at 03:57, Sat 01 Sept 2007.

"Experimenting," Dorian notes. How many times had he done such things in their midst, though his experiments were usually less physical. "Sometimes they go wrong. No matter, no one was injured ... permanently, I mean."

A few moments pass and Cyan relays information concerning Trista's chosen path. The woman nods her head, tosses the jar back in her pack – she'll have to find a place to dispose of it along the way – and begins to cross the room before halting at Devlin's words.

Dorian brushes away concern, as does Trista, “We lived and Berd had to deal with a bit of bad taste in his mouth. Nothing tragic. It sounds like you're on the brink of something very useful.” She remains focused on the man a moment longer.


She gives the man a last smile and turns back to Cyan. The penciled drawing of herself catches her eye and Trista studies it a moment. Looking at Cyan, though not expecting to make eye contact, she says, “That's beautiful, the drawing. As was the card of James. I look forward to hearing you play in your role of Bard, Cyan. It seems you are a true Renaissance woman. Now, I am unsure what to do here, how to go through.”

Her eyes glance to Berd.


She's ready for whatever she needs to do to go through the portal, though a touch of worry still lingers over appearing in the city when some of the guard knows her face as possibly one who freed Beldrin.
This message was last edited by the player at 05:54, Sat 01 Sept 2007.

Cyan nods, slowly, replying aloud, as is her wont.  "It will take me at least a day, Aaron, to forge the palanquet.  After that, I am willing to wait another day more, but we cannot spend a week.  I hope your trip to Amber will be quick - and I hope that you commence it soon, without our usual dither and dally."  That last said with an ironic smile - Cyan knows she is as guilty as the next at procrastination.

"I will send Trista through to you immediately.  And Devlin, should he so desire."

She glances up at Devlin's explanation - some of it goes over her head, but she follows the general gist.  "Agreed - Dorian and Trista are correct.  Experimentation is necessary, nobody was harmed-"  unlike Jack's efforts, which almost sank a ship "-and in the future, you will be more cautious.  I do not envy those with greater powers the care with which they must step...at least with a palanquet I can survey my destination first."  Her smile grows ironic, then fades as she considers the last gate, non-palanquet, that she stepped through with this group.

Cyan chuckles quietly at Trista's compliment, though she reddens as well, and does glance away from the card for a look at the other woman.  "Rennaissance woman...hardly.  I know some art.  But mathematics eludes me, beyond the bases, and machinery?  Ah, that is a mystery to me, as are electronics."  Her hand touches the small MP3 player at her waist, one of a few legacies she has maintained from her time as the Warrior in Jet and Gold.  "This?"  Her voice drops.  "Magic, I confess."

Then she clears her throat, and her amber eyes sharpen.  "Devlin, Trista, if you wish to move to accompany Chance, Aaron stands ready to receive you.  When you are prepared, please come over here."

Berd waddles over to stand beside Trista and looks up at her with his odd, dancing eyes.

"I will be staying here. I wish to see this fortress." Devlin looks quickly at Berd. "It seems to be where I can be of most use at the moment. I will send a friend to accompany Trista.

Evidently Cyan took the term 'Rennaissance woman' more literally than Trista had meant, though certainly she could have been gifted in the other areas, too. The darker woman's eyes drop to the player at Cyan's belt. A smile lifted to meet the woman's eyes, “That sort of electronics was beyond my own world, but I have spent a great deal of time in places with such gadgets. Very convenient. I never cared for utilizing batteries since they seem a hassle, so I didn't pick one up. But certainly a great invention.”

She nods to Devlin with warmth in her eyes and looks down into the faceted eyes of the little dragon. Trista reaches down to stroke the velvety scales of his neck before quietly turning back to Cyan for instructions.
This message was last edited by the player at 18:10, Tue 04 Sept 2007.

Watching Cyan's side of the conversation, Dorian adds, "Some added time is suitable with me, as well. I have certain preparations I should attend: new discoveries. It seems a convenient moment, since Cyan needs to prepare her palanquet."

"Batter...?"  Cyan glances down at the 'MP3' player.  "The accursed thing is supposed to be powered by the sun's energies."  She pops it up, examining it.  Written on the side in odd script is 'MPA7'.  Finally the bard shrugs.  "Berd will find a way," she concludes - as always.  And no doubt he will.  "I enjoy it immensely," she confides to the other woman, her amythest eyes sparkling with amusement.

Conversation swirls around her - from Dorian, from Devlin, and (on the other side), from Aaron.  It is Aaron who addresses her directly, though, and she returns her attention to him.  "I have seen that before...I trust that a few hours for myself will not again translate to a hundred years of suffering for you?"  Concern underlays the arch tone.

Berd stares up at Trista with glittering eyes for a long moment before the woman turns away.  He crawls up Cyan's free arm to rest upon her shoulder, attending the travelling of this woman.



"Touch my shoulder, Trista," Cyan instructs quietly.  "When you see Aaron, truly see him, reach out your hand for him.  Take his, when it is offered.  That is all - you will go to him, instantly."

Concerned she's given misinformation, Trista quickly corrects herself, “Oh, I do not know. The ones I saw were not solar powered, but perhaps yours is. I spoke without knowing the facts; I apologize.”

She nods her understanding and lays a gentle hand on Cyan's shoulder. The portal comes into view, and along with it, the face which James had named 'Aaron,' with a hard life well documented in the scars about his face. Trista's gaze turns to Berd on Cyan's shoulder.


Trista's eyes glance about the room at Cyan, Dorian, Beldrin, and lastly lingering a moment on Devlin before turning back to Aaron. Though her body remains utterly calm, a nervous energy flows down her spine as she stretches her hand forward toward the man, unsure what to expect when he 'pulls her through.'

As Trista prepared to move to the inn through Cyan’s connection Devlin remembers something. "Serena said something about wanting to join us. If everyone thinks she would be of assistance here and it’s not too much trouble?" He says and leaves it hanging there.

The man looks at Trista one more time and then steps out the door of the hut. No need standing around and he has things to do. It seemed they’d wait at least a day for Aaron, plenty of time.

Soon he's back outside, the sun trying to shine through the clouds in places, but he doesn't pay it much attention. Instead he turns his attention to Nightbrand and the immediate task he's set for himself. The gauntlet extends itself in that familiar way to form a short blade which Devlin uses to slice across the palm of his hand. Blood starts to flow and pool in his cupped hand and then he holds his other hand to the first to make a larger area for the blood to pool. He lets the blood flow freely. He even alters himself to keep the blood from clotting or his wound from healing too quickly.

When enough blood has gathered the man begins to concentrate on it...

...


...

... Devlin looks down at his creation, a blackbird very similar to those he's created in the past, and in some ways not the same. "One day I will set you free." He says to the bird. "But for now I need your assistance."

The man holds his hand up, the bird perched on his finger, "Go to her, she's expecting you." Devlin isn't even sure if she's still inside or if she's already at the inn. Hopefully the bird arrives before she leaves the inn. If not she would not go far and these creatures always found a way to locate what he truly wanted...

As the blackbird takes flight and heads toward the city Devlin realizes something. Those creatures he'd sent out to find another had not been able to locate her and yet they always found what he truly wanted. They'd found the copy, not the original. Only now did he realize the truth of it...

But now he needed to eat and replenish the strength drained by his shifting during the night and the stress of creating the creature he'd just sent off. This time it would be fresh meat; fresh, blood filled meat always replenished his strength better than the way most people preferred it.

Shifting once again to his wolven form he slipped into the shadows and was gone.

...

The blackbird flew through what was left of the storm toward its destination. As it did so it thought, not like most birds think, and somehow it knew so. The man had accomplished what he'd set out to do better than he believed he would, and the bird knew that too.

The bird also knew that it had not existed a short time before and yet there were these strange memories of some previous existence. The memories of the man, it somehow knew. It also knew there was some link between them; even now it could sense that link.

The bird did not know what it was, but it knew it was more than a bird.

It was a long flight, but it did not matter as the bird was stronger than any bird it might look similar to and it knew that it'd make it to its destination.

The man had bid him go to the girl and he did so. Even though she was behind the bird now she would soon be where it was headed. The bird did the man's bidding but it knew it needn't be so. If it chose it could do as it wished; the bird was freer than the man thought it was. The man never meant to keep the bird a slave, could never keep another creature that way and the bird knew that. The bird did the man's bidding because there was a bond between them and because the bird needed the man; there was much it had to learn...


This message was last edited by the player at 14:13, Sat 08 Sept 2007.

Beldrin sits and waits, patiently, for somebody to let him know what's happening.  There seems to be something going on, though he is unsure exactly what.

Serena found herself in front of a shelter where according to Aaron Devlin was there with Cyan and some others. Suddenly Serena was struck with an atttack of nerves what if Devlin did not feel the same way as when they parted. What if the others in the group did not like her...

Gathering herself Serena opened the shelter door and walked in she was wearing a hunter green riding dress, carrying what appeared to be a large bag and her long auburn hair hung free. "Hello to you all. I am Serena some of you I know." and with that she smiled brightly at Cyanwho she had become to truly like before leaving the group to follow Devlin."I am sure it will be  a pleasure to get to know the rest of yu as well."

Serena wanted to ask where Devlin was but did not want to seem like some girl with a girlhood crush who could not manage without his presence. Hopefully someone would tell her where he was at some point in the conversation.

Cyan brings Serena through and clasps the other woman by the shoulder - the woman had been of great assistance to her in the past, and helped her through what had proven to be one of her worst times.  "Serena."  She gives a little bow, her topaz eyes sparkling.  "It is a fine thing to have you return to us."  She gestures at her book and pens, a wan smile on her face.  "I fear any explanation must wait - I am about to begin the creation of a palanquet which will hopefully take us into the belly of the beast - Harbonah's citadel."  She restrains a shudder, and her smile fades.

Berd, for his part, studies Serena for a long moment, then lets out a cautious chirrup of greeting.

"Devlin is out...I fear I know not where.  He will be joining us anon, though.  Beldrin - should you wish to travel to Amber with the others, now is the time for you to step through to them - I still hold contact with Aaron."

D'Ombra hunted and filled himself as the man inside thought.

Devlin, in some ways, hated what he was doing. He'd wanted Trista to go with Chance, but not to locate this Sephiroth, indeed he thought that would be a dead end, as he thought going to Harbonoh's fortress would be. As was discovered at Charyk, they did not stand a change of combating the Archon, they needed something that could control them. He felt little could be gained by engaging those they sought to defeat.

...But one never knew, he reminded himself. There was a chance they could discover something of use....

He wanted Trista to take that route so that after they were gone he could suggest a path or two that the others had not discussed. Just as he thought it wise to keep secrets from Amber, there were reasons to keep things secret even from each other. It was not, as he'd recently explained to Serena, that he did not trust members of the group, but outside the group they had no idea who could be trusted. There was no way of knowing if something said would end up being discovered by the enemy, better not to have the knowledge in the first place, better there was little chance of the wrong people overhearing.

He was being secretive, and misleading, and plotting to keep the actions of some secret form the rest. He hated himself for what he was doing, even if understood why he was doing it. He was hoping to be a distraction while someone else did something that might truly make a difference. If he could he would go to this fortress himself, send the others elsewhere. He felt that their chance of returning was not good.

And in the end Trista and those that traveled with her might simply reject his idea outright, but he had to try nevertheless.

He waited until he was sure Trista would be gone and then he sent his message to the messenger.

Full, D'Ombra started back toward the hut and tried to think of a way to keep the others out of the danger he was throwing himself into.

He also worked on increasing his mass once again while he was well away from anyone he could injure. Carefully he reached out, avoided touching anything living, and tried to draw the stuff of shadow into himself. He thought for a moment about that, he called it shadow, but it was no less real than anything else, so he was trying to draw the stuff of this reality, this world, into himself. It would cease to be whatever it was. When he succeeded he wondered what would become of that matter when he expelled it again in order to return to his true mass.

He got closer this time, he could feel the material around him begin to dissolve, as the meat had done in the hut. Soon, very soon, he would master it. ...This information too, he sent to the messenger.

Serena grasps Cyan's shoulder giving it a tight squeeze she had missed Cyan and was glad to see her with a wide smile serena replied."I too am greatly pleased to be reunited with you Cyan. I understand that you have work to do and I will wait for the explanations that I am sure will come eventually."

Serena simply nodded when Cyan brought up Devlin and stated "It is good to know he is well now you go do what you do best Cyan." and as she turned she acknowledged Berd with a wide smile and a wink as she found a place to sit and wait patiently.

Devlin stood just outside the hut, his feeble plan in the works. He'd no idea if this would be a dead end like most of the roads they'd followed, or like his plan to waken the Vhuulad, but it was worth a try. Honestly he didn't know if they would follow, he waited for a report from his messenger.

Devlin had put it off long enough, he was sure she was inside now, waiting for him. Not just sure, absolutely sure. D'Ombra had taken a look inside, she was there; he would have appeared there but didn't want to startle Beldrin with the sudden appearance of a wolf inside the hut. Devlin had much to thank Trista for; it was amazing at the revelations one had when talking to a practical stranger in the rain. He wasn't certain of his feelings, but they no longer haunted him as they did not long ago.

But there were other plans now as well, and Devlin kept his own council in those plans. He told himself that the ends justified the means, that the universe was more important than the feelings of a few.

The man opened the door of the hut and stepped inside. He looked around at those present spotting Serena sitting against one wall and smiled at her; he was genuinely glad to see her.

Serena rose as Devlin entered the room and with a smile matching his she walked slowly over until she stood directly in front of him and looked directly into his eyes. Serena knew much had happened to Devlin in their time apart and was unsure if his feelings for her had changed. In addition, having their reunion in front of a group of people was not what Serena felt as ideal, but then not much had been ideal since they had met.

"Devlin, it is good to see you again. It has been to long. Much longer for you than for me of course. I am glad to see you are looking so well. Cyan has been too busy to catch me up on events here perhaps you would be kind enough to do so." Serena was conflicted, although she wanted to hug him, she was unsure of the reception and the watching eyes. She wished she had suggested they take a walk while he appraised her of events. It would be easier that way to find out the truth.
This message was last edited by the player at 17:29, Tue 11 Sept 2007.

Devlin's feelings had changed about many things in many ways, but right now none of it mattered. The darkness of his past was mostly gone, thanks in part to a conversation in the rain, in in part from his own recent revelations.

The man stepped close to Serena and hugged her. He was glad to see her, and he was glad she had returned. There were things to do and Serena would be important to getting them done. "It is truly good to see you again." Devlin says as he holds her.

Cyan had only begun her work, there was still time to kill, time enough to start other things in motion while he waited.

"Perhaps we can go for a walk. The storm has passed and the sun is coming out. We can catch up and discuss what we will do next.

"Cyan and Dorian both have tasks they must complete before we can move on."

He turns to those he just mentioned and says, "We will return in plenty of time."

Without waiting for a response from anyone he takes Serena's hand and begins leading her outside.

Serena embraced Devlin as he hugged her and responded simply,"Then I am pleased for it is mutual." and in the next instant she was only mildly surprised when he suggested the walk. They apparently still thought a bit alike.

There was a niggle of doubt as to whether Devlin was glad to see her on a more personal basis or because of her capabilities. Or perhaps both. Either way she had signed on forwhatever was going on by being transported in so the walk would reveal what was meant to be revealed. Taking Devlin's hand she too did not turn to explain anything to anyone and replied "Then let us walk and talk" and allowed herself to be led outside.

Devlin walks, and continues to hold Serena's hand as they do.

There seems to be no outward sign to tell what the man is really feeling. He needs to start sociably, there was time to discuss what to do about what needed to be done later.

"Can you tell me more about what happened after you left the river people? where did you go? What did you do?"