<backpost>
James was still not certain that the Trumps were safe, so when the connection re-opened he acted quickly and perhaps a little more forcefully than was really necessary.  Still, he was very precise with the application of his strength.

The warmth of Cyan's welcome surprises James, but it's a welcome surprise.  He manages to squeeze out a "Hi, Cyan." before she turns to greet the others.

In truth, James is pleased to see all of his companions.  James was glad to see them well, and from a more pragmatic point of view he knew that all their talents would be needed.
</backpost>

James makes the introductions.  He hasn't been formally introduced to all of the Princes and Princesses but it's easy enough to guess their names from Bleys' description of each.

He finishes by introducing the pseudo-Archon, "And that's Banglen-Yp, in case you hadn't guessed."

"We'll be seeking out the real thing soon enough Dorian.  The point of this exercise is to get her form as close as possible, we only need to fool the Archon's subordinates at this stage.  I think Banglen-Yp's doing marvellously, she's certainly surprised me."

That said, James addresses Devlin's question, "I'm not sure where Benedict is just now, but I'm pretty sure he's close by."

A flood of unexpected emotions roll over Trista as she enters the chamber.

Alarm at the sight of an Archon! As far as Trista knows, Amber does not consort with the creatures. Her body tenses, a hand straying to the impotent blade strapped to her thigh. But the others seem at ease.

Confusion for their nonchalance. Is this another as Trgiaob? One who found its way to an alliance? Or is there something more insidious at work? It speaks with a request for help perfecting its form. Trista's brows tuck together, honing in on another possibility.

Relief when she realizes the shape-shifter is not in the room. And that Cyan seems perfectly at ease with the thing. Does Banglen-Yp rotate before them? Trista's body relaxes a touch, though she's still on guard, finally looking more carefully at the mixture of familiar and unfamiliar faces before them. Tahirah retreats into her robes. James and Roman seem well. What of the other? She cannot remember his name, but the one with the magnificent cats.

Then the faces of the Amberites bring a new and unbidden emotion. Or a complex web of them. Anger. Hope. Panic.

Vengeance.

She stands in the midst of Amber, the place she had been searching for all those years ago, but had forsaken and simply wandered for information. But this place, this place could provide answers.

Don't do this, Trista.

Her eyes flit to Chance for comfort. Then to Devlin for... what? How much had she revealed to him? Not enough; he does not know. Berd. If only Berd were among their company to provide counsel. The woman grinds her teeth before quietly blowing out her held breath, calming herself.

This is not about you; this is about the Worlds. Don't let it go there.

With great control, Trista partially releases her personal needs. For now. The pseudo archon gives her focus and she addresses what she assumes is the shape-shifter. James finishes the introductions, cementing who this archon is. “You're Banglen-Yp? To fool subordinates - if they are archons, they will see your true form.”

She remembers traveling within Trgiaob and seeing Devlin for who he was instead of the monstrous shape he had adopted. As well the little girl at Dorian's side.
This message was last edited by the player at 13:42, Mon 25 May 2009.

"Quite true," Dorian says to James with a small but sincere smile. His attitude towards the man had changed. "But I believe it would be better if she perfect her form before that encounter. We just left the presence of an Archon that seems to be friendly towards our cause. It aided us against Harbonah's scouts. Perhaps it would likely be willing to assist her in her pursuit."

He lifts a hand to his stubbly chin, examining the spinning creature. It looked true enough to his eyes. "Not only that, but Archons will know about shapeshifters. They could try to attack your form, force you to revert if they suspected your nature. You should practice resisting such methods. I could demonstrate."
This message was last edited by the player at 19:11, Mon 25 May 2009.

Chance blinks. The world changed so suddenly from the gritty, visceral world of a humble village to the gaudy opulence that reminded him so much of his childhood in Azoth, but without the technology, gadgets and magic.

He watches the others for their reactions. Cyan kneels, but few of the others do so. He's never been a humble man, but these are not just princes but princes of the universe--in a sense. He could kneel, but he senses something in Trista's mood--perhaps just confusion at the Archon's presence--and moves close. As he draws near, he offers a simple touch on her shoulder to let he know he's there.

The Archon? He wonders, but so many seem at ease with it's presence, so he does nothing but watch and wait.

 

♦♦ Yes ♦ I am the one you call Banglen♦Yp ♦ although I have no true form to be discerned ♦ apart from what I am at the moment ♦ which then will be my true form ♦ at that time ♦♦ However ♦ each form takes some study and time to perfect ♦ hence my request for assistance to help speed up the process ♦ as studying an Archon up close may not be possible at this time ♦♦

The Archon shifted position in the air, constantly changing to further improve on its appearance.

♦♦ Their mentallity I do not know so I will allow my mind to default to its natural state ♦ what you would call a block ♦♦ It is not really a block as such but the way it is ♦ actually ♦♦ But I digress ♦ any assistance to help perfect this form ♦ which is quite intriguing ♦ is most welcome ♦♦ Oh ♦ including how they speak and form sentences ♦ another area in I am lacking in too ♦♦

 

One corner of Dorian's mouth turns up for a moment. "As you wish, though Trgiaob may help you fathom how they speak and think. It is merely a suggestion."

He draws in a deep breath. His left hand emerges from beneath the battered and well-worn black cloak that drapes heavily from his shoulders. The fingers form an odd, hooked gesture, twists and lifts upward. Then, his right hand shoots out and makes another gesture instantly after. This one flat: one finger bent, the hand thrusting outward towards the Archon as if to push at some unseen object before him....
This message was last edited by the player at 16:04, Tue 26 May 2009.

Remaining on one knee, Cyan lets the conversation wash around her, listening to the others discuss while she awaits the King's attention.  Or perhaps that of Princess Fiona - one never knows.

Not surprisingly, Devlin leaps directly into a request to move along; the wandering man has no king but himself.  A free man, he holds respect for people, not position.  Dorian, royalty in his own right, eschews any gestures, though his daughter does them the politeness of a greeting.  Instead, the dark man critiques the shapeshifted Banglen-Yp, her identity confirmed by James, who introduces the Amber family.  Cyan studies faces, triggering mnemonics to assist her in memorizing the names.

Chance, however, draws close to Trista, and Cyan's skill jangles a warning.  The woman is tense, hostility fairly bleeding off her skin.  She knows not why, but Trista fights a battle, a battle she wins before turning her gaze to the shifter.

"Your motion and speech require work," the bard finally concludes, keeping watch on Trista from the corner of her eye - concerned, not prepared.  "As for your aura, your presence...if you block it, you will reveal yourself.  An archon's senses rely as much on their spirits as it does upon gathering physical vibrations, if not more.  Their language, the same.  I do not know if you can disguise this.  I can call upon tutors," she notes diffidently.  "But that is not for me to decide."

This is Amber - she will not simply summon Left and Right without permission.

Dorian makes sense, but would seem Banglen-Yp does not buy into either Trista's or Dorian's concerns. Obviously, she believes she will fool them. No innate form? How is that possible even if it's just an awareness, that is some kind of form.

But it is to Chance's nearness, Trista turns her attention. She turns to gather him in at his shoulder touch. That one simple gesture serves to notch her tension further down. For a fleeting moment, all she wants to do is get out of this place; take Chance and a bottle of Jack and find someplace far removed from archons, royalty, and fathers. It can't happen, of course.

She's chosen her path, for good or ill.

The woman softens further, not quite smiling, but thanking Chance in her stormy eyes nevertheless. Then she turns her attention back to the group at large. Cyan offers help of another sort, though similar to Trgiaob Trista suspects. Dorian seems to be up to something with his gesturing. Something to test Banglen-Yp?

Devlin nods as each of the members of the Royal Family are introduced. He knows most of the faces, even without being introduced.

Much is going on, while he hates to add to the confusion, still, he has his self imposed mission. So replying to James' comment about Benedict, he answers, "We are, or at least I am, looking for a member of this, family?"

The emphasis definitely makes "Family" sound like a question, as if he does not think that term really applies, but has no other word to use.

"We have a description. As the eldest, I thought Benedict would be my best chance at identifying the person."

Random studies Cyan for a moment, considering his reponse, perhaps.  Then, "Please stand, you'll need to answer some questions regarding our enemy, once the confusion here has died down, and talking to you down there will likely give me a stiff neck."

He grins at the bard, before adding, "Besides, I think your people have probably done enough for us that we can be on less formal terms, at least here, out of the public eye."

James makes the introductions, on both sides, and Random answers his comment regarding Benedict, "I believe he's gone directly to Arden, to assist Julian in formulating a strategy.  I'll send a rider out to tell them what we've discovered about the enemy's goal."


Then Devlin speaks up, drawing Random's attention, "How good a description?  If you saw the person, do you think you would recognise them?  What about a portrait of them?"

"Certainly, your majesty," Cyan replies, levering herself to her feet.  "I am at your disposal."  Less formal?  That might be difficult for her.  Content to let James do the talking, and for King Random to answer Devlin's excellent suggestion, she steps slightly to the side, moving out of the center stage.

This is a discussion between royalty, now.

Instead, with sapphire eyes she studies the faux-Archon in their midst.  Banglen-Yp has done a fine job mimicking the form of a danioti, but she lacks knowledge of their patterns of motion.  Of their mode of speaking - her alien imitation isn't completely off, but requires coaching.

But most of all, the shapeshifter is missing the aura, that looming sense of barely-leashed rage and violence that hangs about the bladed soldiers.  Therein is the most difficult - could Banglen-Yp summon up the necessary razored feelings, could she project them properly?

Two years ago, Cyan herself lacked such a capability.  Now?  Perhaps.

 

♦♦ Any assistance is gladly accepted ♦ Cyan ♦♦ I will attempt to be one in mind too if possible ♦♦

The Archon then hovered away from the others a little.

♦♦ As I said ♦ I have no so called True Form ♦ but you are welcome to assist as well ♦♦ I think it best I keep a bit of distance though ♦ in case ♦♦

 

Devlin does not miss Cyan stepping out of the center of attention, and he does not mind stepping into that center for now. He is more sure now than ever that the correct tide to follow does not include trying to defeat the Archon themselves. Everything has pointed in the same direction, and that direction is...

"We've only heard of him, and about him." Devlin answers. "We've not actually seen him. But the descriptions are always roughly the same.

"The man likes to call himself either Carl Corey or Ganelon, maybe one or two others. The Archon call him Finder.

"He's said to be a large man, powerfully built. Dark grey hair, dark grey beard, both shot through with red, his eyes are grey with flecks of silver."

Devlin looks around the room to see if there are any reactions to his description, that is, if anyone is actually paying attention. While the man expects that this group can control their reactions, one never knows.

Then, looking back at Random he continues, "This man is the one that released these creatures from their prison and set them on their course. I believe he has the key to ending this. You'll not win against them in battle, but maybe the one that released them knows how to put them back."

As usual, Devlin has jumped to a few conclusions, but they are educated leaps, at least he hopes they are.

Interesting Roman muses, considering what he knows of the Amberite princes.  With renewed interest he watches the assembled Amberite roytalty to observe how they react.

Random considers Devlin's description, "I believe I know the man you describe, and he is not Ganelon... "

"Nor Carl Corey." interjects the blonde woman that some members of the group had seen arguing with Fiona when they had first arrived.  "Carl Corey was a name sometimes used by Corwin, and the description doesn't fit him."

"Florimel has it right, the description certainly doesn't fit Corwin." Random continues, "It does, however, fit Finndo, one of my older half-brothers, and full brother to Benedict.  But as far as I was aware, he and Osric, Benedict's other brother, have been dead for years."

Fiona, her eyes fixed on Dorian and a frown on her features, adds her own thoughts on that, "Death would not preclude them.  This could be a scheme that one, or both, of them set in motion long ago, which continues under its own momentum."

"Yes.  And they may have felt they had reason to seek some sort of vengeance, according to what I heard once from Dad."

"If the source of our trouble is dead," Tahirah offers quietly, "Then he is probably not keeping protections against scrying."

"The man is not dead." Devlin says immediately. "Cyan related the story of how some of us retrieved one of those cubes." [OOC: Part 61a - Aftermath - the Blue Rose: msg #31]

Here he turns to the woman, "You remember, don't you Cyan. The cubes that Berd destroyed." Then turns back to the rest of those assembled. "This Carl Corey told that Rokt fellow, hard to forget your description of that one, how to find that cube."

"That was days ago, maybe weeks at most, not years. The man is most Certainly not dead. If it is not this Finndo fellow, then it is a shape shifter that wishes us to believe it is him and he has gone to great lengths over the course of centuries to keep the same appearance each time he appears. No my bet is on Finndo."

"What does this Osric look like? Why would Finndo, or Osric, hate Amber so much that they'd see all destroyed?"
This message was last edited by the player at 00:22, Fri 29 May 2009.

James watches and listens, being this close to so many of the Family has him feeling edgy and there's suddenly an awful lot going on.  Cyan and Banglen-Yp discuss the details of being an Archon; Chance and Trista, well there's something going on there, but James doesn't know what it is or whether it's any of his business; and Devlin, he dives straight in at the deep end.

Was it really that simple?  Since James had started on the quest he had spent so much time around shapeshifters like Roman and Banglen-Yp and others who could disguise themselves in other ways, even to the point of altering a witnesses' perceptions directly, that he had placed little faith in the descriptions they had received.  Now it seemed that the principal actor in this grand tragedy was his uncle Finndo.  No disguise, no secret agents, just an ages-old hatred.

"At least now you can see why I was concerned about a traitor in the family."  James mutters quietly.

ämi, having calmed down and gotten used to the large number of the huge creatures, wings down from his perch to land on Trista's shoulder. Twisting his little head to the side to look into one of her eyes with one of his own the bird chips a little song.

(NPC'd)

With Banglen-Yp's permission to continue with his attempt to force her into her true form, Dorian announces, "Everybody should stand back.  I'm about to try something here, which may have unforseen results."

He gives it a few seconds, for people to get clear, and then he makes a gesture...

 

When Dorian made the gesture the Archon sneezed, sending its metal fragments flying in all directions - for the fraction of a second, then the fragments slammed together, mid-air, to form the naked form of a blonde human female.

A split second later not only golden locks but also arms and legs fell towards the floor, never to reach it as such, but as a fine dust that slowly continued downwards, as in the stead of the blonde was now a small dog.

Fur, ears and legs exploded away and fell as in the next moment a little bird hovered where the canine had been.

Then the still falling dust from the blonde and the furs and parts from the dog was sucked up into an old fashioned lamppost whose light flickered faintly.

A sudden gust then sucked material from the rug on the floor beneath the lamppost and from parts of the doors as a large gray elephant now hovered in the place of the lamppost.

Next the elephant looked as if it had walked into the House of Mirrors as it twisted and bent into the shape of an ancient oak.

A fraction of a second later more material was sucked into the swelling oak, from both doors and floor, almost threatening to suck but the strongest towards the vortex of the swelling oak - an oak that now was a large whale.

The whale exploded into a sphere of water that began to spread outwards while in the middle a cute looking dolphin was suspended mid-air, or mid-water as it was.

Then most of the exploding water halted and turned back in the wink of an eye before smashing into what looked like a twister, a tornado, although some of the water managed to cover the whole room with a fine mist of moist.

Just as things began to feel the effect of the tornado there was none, only and old man with a cane flailing about with his cane while a fine dust from the former wind began to settle.

In a poof, the old man was gone, adding to the slowly settling dust, while the cane turned into a little kitten.

The kitten shed bits and pieces and was replaced by a wasp.

All the dust exploded inwards in a sudden gust, revealing a small cottage.

Next the dust seemed to continue into the cottage that was transformed into the type of cloud that promises good weather, if you enjoy sunshine.

Half a wink of an eye later the cloud condensed into a motorcycle, Harley Davidson style to those in the know.

Then everything disintegrated, apart from the lid of the gas tank which was no lid any more, but a single leaf.

The next nanosecond the dust imploded again, forming a blonde - not the same as before - clad in red leather and with guns instead of her lower arms.

Red leather faded and more dust was sucked in, leaving a rather mean looking Great White shark in mid-air.

The grey shark seemed to grow limbs and darken, having been replaced the next instant by a still meaner looking black creature with a long, spiked tail that seemed escaped from someone's nightmare.

Suddenly the chitin-clad monster exploded in black dust and left a cheerful-looking teapot in its place.

Next the teapot burst into flames, parts of the dust being drawn in again to enlarge it further still.

The fire appeared to grow thicker and darker until the flames draped downwards and, with another sudden gust, nearly all the dust was sucked into the shape of a large, hairy Mammoth.

An instance later the Mammoth's trunk stretched out, its legs folded up and it turned military grey, displaying itself as an impressive military tank, complete with tracks and all.

Without warning the tank exploded into parts that turned into dust, slowly revealing a white, soft looking pillow in what used to be the turret of the tank.

The pillow shifted into what looked like the head of a gigantic crab-man while part of the dust somehow shaped up into a muscular body underneath it and a mean-looking cannon on the shoulder.

Then the crab-man exploded, sending dust and both soft and hard material hurtling all over the room leaving only the cannon that now was a beautiful butterfly.

Some of the dust began to solidify in the air around the butterfly, turning into pieces of metal, metal that hurtled towards the butterfly until it was obscured in the spinning mess.

The Archon was back, a few seconds after it had sneezed, while the dust slow, slow settled, drifted towards the others and still danced in the air after the various contradicting winds and debris that had played havoc with the air in the room.

♦♦ Oops ♦♦

The Archon gave the impression of looking around as it turned a full circle, around its vertical axis, as if taking in the pit in the floor and the now half-gone double doors to the room, that used to open outwards but now were open, and hanging loose, inwards with most of the room partly sprinkled with both solid and soft pieces of... stuff.

♦♦ Normally I control this ♦ but I assume whatever you did ♦ Dorian ♦ made me lose control temporarily ♦♦ At least none of you were damaged ♦ right ♦♦

The dust nearest the spinning Archon danced about in the air, stirred around by the metal blades.

♦♦ It tickled a bit ♦♦

A simple statement, but an honest one.

 
This message was last edited by the player at 12:37, Fri 29 May 2009.

The clouds of dust and water droplets in the air gradually settle.  The damage seems minimal, save for a shallow depression in the floor, a missing section of rug, and a perfectly circular hole in the doors, where some of the material had been absorbed to add mass to some of Banglen-Yp's transformations.

Fortunately most of the ejecta had been in the form of fine particles, splinters, mist, and various small, unidentifiable items, many of them soft, red, and wet.  Luckly, the majority of the latter became dust or water shortly after being separated from the strange shapeshifter.

Still, the room is now considerably messier than it had been.

As the dust clears, Chrissie grins at the Archon.  "Cool!"  Next to her, Aaron appears to be checking if he's missing anything.

The other Amberites, from where they stand, close to the walls, look less pleased.

Random, stooping to stand his chair up, looks at Dorian, then at Banglen-Yp.  "Right.  Let's not do that again, shall we?"

As Devlin takes control of the discussion, Trista nods at his description. Though she could not have pulled the details out of her memories as he did, she remembers their conversation as he speaks.

While the discussion ensues, Trista studies the royalty of Amber. Her experiences with Kings and Queens in the Worlds have left her little use for them, as a whole. Perhaps these are different; her father certainly thought so. Father...

Trista snaps her mind and eyes away from that path and instead seeks out ämi, chattering away as he flutters among the windows.


Dorian gives a warning and Trista reflexively tenses, ever so slightly stepping to overlap Chance with her shoulder. Although, the man really needs no help from her, not with his gifts.

Concentrating on Dorian, the normally solid woman gives a start as the faux archon sneezes herself into oblivion and back again to an ever changing myriad of shapes, sizes, and textures. Debris flies about the room, wind lapping hair and clothing. Feeling even more protective, Trista's hand reaches back for Chance as her mind reaches out for the little black bird.


She watches a show unlike any she's seen before, worried for the safety of everyone in the room, but also for the creature known as Banglen-Yp, that enigma to them all. “What in the hell is going on?” she muttered before the host of forms coalesced once again into the archon. Trista blinks, about to ask after her safety, but the enigma brushes it off as if it were a game.

The woman searches for the bird, measuring his safety and then turns to lift an eyebrow toward Chance, “Crazy life.” At least, the display served to take Trista out of the dark waters she had been treading. Looking about, she gages the reactions of all, before Random takes it all with ease.

About to answer Devlin, Cyan glances Dorian's way as he attempts...something.  Then the world goes mad, as Banglen-Yp erupts into shape after shape.  Cyan shifts back, her hands empty and shielding her eyes; after a moment, she looks away, her finite mind having difficulty keeping up with shift after shift.  Covering one ear with a palm, she observes with her peripheral vision, eyes shading paler and paler as the changes show no sign of stopping.

And yet, the storm finally blows itself out.

The bard breathes deeply as the 'archon' speaks, nodding slowly as her eyes deeping toward ruby-red.  About to speak, she glances to the king and settles on a nod, hoping their welcome has not been worn out by this sudden display.  The royals look unimpressed.  Very much so.

"Devlin," she begins, then coughs once, glancing nervously toward where Banglen-Yp and Dorian conduct their experiments.  "Devlin is correct.  This man is very unlikely to be dead, even considering how time shifts through the Myriad Worlds."

Yes, please, not again.

The bird takes flight again at Trista's warning and just as he does the whirling creature explodes. ämi squawks and flaps quickly, keeping himself in place just behind the woman's shoulder chirping and whistling loudly at the strange display.