The air is still acrid with the smell of smoke, though most of the fires were extinguished the day before yesterday (or was it the day before that?) and the enemy troops driven back roughly to the positions they held a week ago.  The war here is being won, so far, but at what cost?

From the hilltop, Aaron looks down at the new scar on the face of Arden, a swathe of ash and charred trees almost a mile wide.  It could have been much worse, if not for the near constant rain.

The enemy is somewhere beyond the burned area.

The most recent reports place them around a hill about a dozen miles to the west.  But that report was from yesterday.  There's no guarantee that it's accurate - the enemy troops, not quite human, have proven themselves surprisingly mobile and adaptable.  The burned area is the result of one of their newer tactics.  Aaron lost five men because of it - two trying to keep the fire from speading, and three more, volunteers all, to crossbow quarrels as they tried to cross the open ground after the burn was controlled.

Things might be better if Dorian were here - with extra troops and a few tricks of his own - but there's been no news of his whereabouts for almost a week, save for unconfirmed reports of fighting to the south.

"Sir?"

It's Callan, one of the Rangers and Aaron's lieutenant.  Another man stands behind him, dressed in greens and browns, with dye on his face to match the colours of his clothes.  "Sir.  One of the scouts returned early.  He says there is something new coming.  Something he's never seen before."

Aaron turned, seeing Callan standing there and the even more welcome face of one of his scouts. They were good men, dedicated and ready to fight for Amber, but this battle had taken a lot from them. Even then, despite their setbacks, they had proven time and again that they wouldn't let a single inch of land be taken without consequence.

Still, this scout had returned far sooner than he'd expected. He leveled his gaze at the scout, taking his measure.

"Scout, what is your name? What did you see?"

"Name's Daley, sir." the scout replies, raising a hand in a sort of half salute.

"I was away over south, round 'bout a day out, and I ran across a dozen of those big buggers, you know, the ones with the red skin what we've been fightin' a lot lately?  They was all sittin' round 'avin' a bit of grub, an yammerin' away in that strange lingo of theirs.  Now I don't really know it, but I could see they was a bit scared 'bout somethin'.  So normal like, I'd just note where they was, an' 'ow many, an' I'd move on, but on account of them bein' jumpy, I reckoned I'd see if'n I could see why."

"Anyways, I 'id out near them for a bit, an' kept an eye open, an' after a bit longer, another one came into the camp an' jabbered somethin' about 'ow someone were comin'.  Not long after that, this... thing walked in on them.  It were bigger than any of them, about a man an' a 'alf tall, with shoulders about so wide... "  The scout shifts his hands to indicate a width of about four feet.

"Looked like a man, it did, only it's 'ead 'ad a 'orn on the front, right 'ere."  A finger taps to indicate a position just above the bridge of the nose, "An' the eyes was like some wild beast.  An' it 'ad a tail like an ox.  So it jus' strolls in, carryin' a big axe, an' grinnin' like it'd 'eard the best joke ever, an' all the redskins is down on the deck, kneelin' with their faces in the dirt."

"So the fellah, 'e says as 'ow they all needs to be ready, on account of 'ow an 'undred of 'is brothers is comin', an' when they gets 'ere, then the war will start again.  Only now 'im an' 'is brothers will win it."

The scout shrugs, "An' that was pretty much it.  A bit after that the redskins starts movin' about, an' the new fellah sits down for a bit to eat, so I decided it were time to bugger off."

Aaron got a good image from Daley's description and motions, closing his eyes to let it all sink in. "Great. Just what the men need. A giant cousin to Tim Curry's Devil from "Legend"..."

When the man finished, Aaron opened his eyes and nodded.

Aaron patted him on the shoulder. "To say you did well is an understatement, but I need more from you. I want you to take me to the area you spotted that thing in. What you've provided is invaluable, but if our enemies are going to throw some specialized units our way, I want to see what they can do with my own eyes."

He gestured to the nearby tents. "Take a break, Daley. We've still a bit before we set out, but you and I are moving soon." Aaron then turned to Callan.

"We need to notify the other scouts of this as soon as possible so they know what to look for. We don't know what these things are capable of yet, but I'm trusting that since Daley was able to exfiltrate without much trouble, they might not be as sensitive as I generally anticipate." Aaron's eyes narrowed. "Still, our red enemies showed much deference to that thing. Anything that causes them to cower gets me interested. After you notify the scouts, see if you can get the word around the rest of the troops, see if anyone else has heard anything about giant, horned, axe-wielding demonoids or their ilk. However, keep it to the other Rangers and those on a need-to-know basis, and do it quietly. The grunts will learn of these things eventually, but I'd rather they stay focused on our current targets."

That was a tough call to make at this time. Aaron didn't want the morale of the troops to be affected any worse than it already was, but he was just as concerned about getting solid intel on their new enemies. Knowing they were in Amber was one thing, but knowing what they could do was quite another. More importantly, Aaron didn't want their enemies to know that they knew.

"I'm hoping to not be gone long. Callan, keep the our sights on our current targets, especially more bands of redskins intent on smoking us out, as well as an eye out for anything new. Refresh our scouts as necessary. We're not going to give them Arden without them paying a heavy toll, and I'm sure as hell not going to let them burn it to the ground around us."

"Giant, horned, axe-wielding demonoids," Luke mused, looking out over the devastation from beside Aaron.  "Sounds and looks just like my second home, or so they say."  He glanced to the side, studying Aaron's profile.  "And where do you plan on haring off to, Aaron of Auld Thiriel, San Anyn, Amber, and...well, the list does chug along at times, doesn't it?"

Leaning back, he studied the weary warrior. "Nothing missing, I see." One eyebrow quirked.  "Yet."

Aaron was already stowing most of his gear when he sensed Luke approach. His sarcasm only made Aaron snort.

"I," he said, checking Ilse in her sheath. "...am off with one of my scouts, to try to get a better eye on inevitability."

He extended a hand towards him. "And you? I assume you've been busy?"

Daley nods in confirmation, "I can get you there, sir.  Like I were sayin', it's 'bout a day out from 'ere.  I'll just get some supplies for the trail, an' I'll be good to go, soon as you are."

He moves off and Aaron gives instructions to Callan, "Best I can say is that we'll let them know as they report in.  They're good at hiding, and they have instructions which let them move freely through the forest.  The only time I see any of them is when they come in to tell us what they've found.  I was born and raised in Arden, and I couldn't find one of the scouts if he didn't want to be found."

"Rumour says they can turn themselves into trees and animals."  And a grin, to show that the doesn't believe in that nonsense.  Trouble is, that grin isn't entirely convincing.

He glances at Luke, a puzzled look on his face, like a man who is sure he recognises a face, but isn't sure where he knows it from.

Aaron seems to know who it is though, and now he thinks of it, Callan is sure he's seen the man a number of times over the last few days.

"Oh, been around here and there.  Everywhere."  Luke grinned, his teeth breathtakingly shiny (and currently normal).  "Helping Cyan for a bit, but she doesn't need it right now.  I'm probably the worst person to have with her, given how I tick everyone off."

He accepted Aaron's hand without hesitation, his own grip firm (without being crushing), dry, and oddly warm, almost as if he were running a fever.

"So I finished up some projects I've had in the works, then sat down and thought for a bit," he continued.  "And I realized I hadn't seen you in a time.  'What better way,' I told myself, 'to amuse myself than to inflict my presence upon Aaron.'"

He chuckled at Callan's words.  "Shapeshifters?  Good thing you have her with you, Aaron.  Should help with that sort of thing.  Me too." A quick breath on his nails, then Luke buffed them on his shirt.  "Got to keep those scouts from getting too uppity, eh?"

Then the amusement faded, and he studied Aaron with his dark, dark eyes.  "Who do we fight here, Aaron?  What do they seek?"

Chuckling, Aaron nodded. "Yes, yes. Seems to me you're up to your usual."

His mirth left him then as Luke probed further. Aaron couldn't hide the seriousness of the situation. He turned to stare out at blackened, scarred Arden.

"In all honesty, I do not know what or whom we fight here. The Archons, I am used to, and these red ones as well. Yet this battle is an odd one. We hold them off from Arden, but for how long? It is clear they're willing to step up the battle, as the most recent reports of their reinforcing attest, but the enemy seems more focused on exhausting us than killing us outright. Pretty standard if you've got an entrenched defender, but I came into this... expecting more, I suppose."

He shook his head. "I don't understand it. That's why I'm going to see what's next. Maybe then I can answer your question."

"Archons?"  Luke's frown deepened. "That isn't...that should be over."

His dark eyes stared out over the burn before him, and his senses expand, searching for the enemy. "Cyan has brokered a truce," he explained.  "As of now, Harbonah's archons - the nephillim -" he snorted, sounding amused "- are holding off.  The war has ground to a halt.  Whatever happens here, whomever is in command here, they're doing this against Harbonah's wishes."

He grimaced.  "Not that we're all best pals with him now, but Harry has decided to let bygones be bygones if we can just fix the archons problems.  No more killing on either side...hopefully."  Another snort.  "I'm skeptical, but if they can pull it off, faaaan-tastic."

His arm waved out over the battlefield. "So if that's the case, what is this?"

Callan answer's Luke's question, "We've been fighting the enemy forces all through here for weeks.  Every time we drive them back, they come back at us with a new tactic.  Three days age we pushed them hard, and they responded by setting fires to stop us pursuing them.  You can see the result of that."  He waves a hand, a gesture that encompasses a vast swathe of still smouldering woodland.

"It would have been worse, if not for all the rain we've had.  As it was, the fire was contained just to this vale."

"Hrmph."  Luke listened quietly, for a change, his dark eyes thoughtful. "Pretty smart of them, all things considered, and they're burning enemy territory.  No great loss for them.  This isn't a war of conquest, after all." He snapped his fingers. "Of course.  Time, lines of communication, all of that.  When you live outside of that kind of thing, you tend to forget it.  It hasn't been that long.  The Seraphim here don't know."

He faced about to Aaron.  "If you can hold here, word will eventually reach the enemy that things are shut down for the moment.  That's not to say you shouldn't push, or whatever it is you're doing -" this with a little wave of the hand "- but this won't last.  I don't know how long it'll take the message to reach here, is all."

A thought came, and he paced in a circle, mulling it over. "I suppose we could take message to them ourselves.  Mountain, Museylamah, all of that." 

Aaron couldn't help but look surprised at Luke's admonition of the current state of affairs. He had, after all, been mostly held up in Arden and focused entirely on its defense. It had been... a necessary distraction.

But he couldn't afford to be distracted, now. With the Archons removed from the board as potential threats, Aaron was able to narrow his thinking.

"Alright, Luke. Yes, I agree with you. I want to know what's going on out there," he said, gesturing towards the blackened green. "But I would prefer to have reinforcements just in case. I can hold, but I don't think we have a whole lot of time."

He placed his hands on his hips and was quite for a few moments, obviously considering.

"Fine. We'll go tell them ourselves."
This message was last edited by the player at 00:56, Tue 13 Aug 2013.

"What?" the sudden shocked  outburst from Callan is followed by a stammering apology, "I- I'm sorry, Sir.  I just thought I heard you say you're planning to go and talk to the enemy."

"The same enemy that has neither given nor asked quarter since coming to Arden, and who think a flag of truce just means you brought a napkin for him to use when he eats you.  You do know that some of those red creatures that Daley reported devoured most of my predecessor, just two days before your arrival here?"

The man's face has grown visibly paler.  But at least when he speaks agai he sounds calmer, though more determined, "As your second in command, Sir, I am duty-bound to advise against any course of action on your part which I believe to be foolhardy.  This plan would fall into that category."

"Man has a point.  These people, maybe they're not the sort you want hanging around in your neighbourhood."  He grinned, and now his smile was edged, both figuratively and literally.  "I know the sort."

The smile faded and Luke pondered the distant enemy lines.  "If we annihilate their support...well, the Archons won't care about that.  They're just using these creatures as cannon fodder.  Alternately, we get to the Seraphim and let them know the state of affairs, then without their commands, maybe the invaders fall apart."

"I'm sure showing them a bright new world to play with will help...thank you, James."  He snorted.  "Destruction is easy.  But James made a great play on Hosk and got the Seraphim to sit up and listen for a bit.  Turns out Harbonah is less of an insane monster and more of a 'nobody matters but my Archons' type.  Who'd have thought he and I would have so much in common?"

"Either way, I can show the Seraphim here what happened on Hosk.  They might think it a trick, but...I was there for all of it, and the old bastard isn't the only one who can replay events directly." He pursed his lips in a moue of annoyance.  "Family trait, I suppose."

Aaron loudly snorted and spat.

"It was so much easier when it was just us avoiding or facing the Archons. Holding point isn't really my strong suit, but I've already been at this for a while, so I might as well grind it out."

He waved a hand at Luke.

"Go do what you think is right, Luke. I'll stick around and see what I can find out about this new wrinkle." The short man frowned, cast a dark eye sideways at Callan. "Thanks for the reminder."

Surprised, Luke laughed, a short, sharp bark.  "Ah, no, Aaron.  You misunderstand.  Or you're being amusing.  I'm not sure which."  Bitterness tinged his lopsided smile.  "Are you seriously suggesting that I go and speak to the Archons?  To parlay with them?  ME?  Can you imagine how that might play out?  I assure you, I can."

He paced in a circle.  "There was a time when I was considered possibly the most honey-tongued negotiator ever to exist...but honestly, that was mostly stories, and long ago besides.  I'm not the same as I was then, just like any of us.  Outside time, but not immune to its endless weight.  Wearing a mountain down with a handkerchief will take a while - and a bloody awful lot of handkerchiefs - but the universes have a tendency to do just that."  Holding out his hands, he stared down at his splayed fingers.  "I'm not the being you want for peace negotiations; these days, it seems I'm much better at inciting."

Swinging around, he faced Aaron once again. "No, I was more thinking you could do the talking and I could do the showing.  You're good at talking, Aaron.  That's not an insult, by the way; I would have said something like 'you're all talk' and, tempting as it was, you're not.  You're good at it.  You remind me of one of my brothers."  A brief hint of sorrow entered his eyes, there and gone.

"I'd just come along as your Powerpoint presentation."
This message was last edited by the player at 12:25, Mon 19 Aug 2013.

Daley shuffles his feet nervously and clears his throat.

"Beggin' your pardon, sirs, but if you's wantin' me to lead you to them there red buggers an' their new mate, we should set out a bit sharpish like.  I'd be wantin' us to get to a little 'idey-'ole what I know afore dusk.  Arden's got a bit... strange like since all this business started."

He shrugs, "If not, then I'd as soon be 'eadin' off any'ows."

"Ugh." Aaron sighed, shaking his head. "Look, let's focus on one thing at a time here."

He gestured to Daley. "I'm going with Daley, here, to do exactly what I intended previously. Once I know what I'm looking for, THEN we'll go visit our 'friends' and I can give them the full story on just what in hell's blazes is going on out here in Arden."

Aaron cocked his head to the side. "So, again, do whatever you want, Luke. Come with me or don't, I don't care. I don't have time to be distracted."

With that being said, he looked to Daley. "You've got point."

Callan dispatches a man to fetch supplies, and before too long a somewhat impatient Daley is leading the way out into Arden, following the boundary of the burned area but staying a good ten yards from the open space, for the most part, to lessen the risk of archers.

The air is tainted with smoke, and there are places where the embers still smoulder, in spite of the general dampness of the woods following weeks of almost constant rain.  Blackened skeletal trees, denuded of all foliage, jut up from the field of ashes.

At one point Daley takes a brief diversion to study the burned remains of a massive tree, more than ten yards around.  A few minutes work with an exe brings a satisfied grunt, and a comment, "There's still live wood under the burned stuff.  The ol' girl might get through this."

When the boundary turns westward, Daley continues south, leaving the burn behind as he finds an animal trail to follow deeper into the forest.

At noon they pause to eat.  The air is filled with dim greenish light, filtering through the dense foliage above, making the forest seem like some sort of enchanted cave.  Daley explains roughly where they are, some thirty miles from Kolvir, though the mountain itself is invisible through the dense growth.  For the most part he listens though, head tilting at every sound, no matter how distant it seems.

Finally, as he stands after eating, and stretches, he announces, "We's alone, I reckon.  The only birds an' beasts what's disturbed is the ones as are near to us."

They journey on through the day, and there is more rain.  Water trickling constantly from the canopy above.

And shortly before sunset, with the already dim light fading, Daley leads the way to a cave on the side of a low cliff, mostly hidden by ivy.  Inside are signs that somebody has been living in there, but not recently.

"We can rest in 'ere 'til mornin'.  Arden's too risky jus' now to be walkin' about at night."

As if to confirm the scouts assessment, there is a howl from outside.  Not a wolf, but something else.  Something that sounds bigger.  And the howl twists into laughter at the end...

"That's fair, Aaron," Luke sighed.  "Could end this bloody conflict, but I understand priorities."

The travelling wasn't an issue for him.  Perhaps he was there for it, perhaps not; hard to tell, really.  Certainly he was in the cave when the beast howled.  "Pleasant," the man grunted, settling himself down on the rocky floor of the cave.  There was a faint clank as he settled a long, heavy-bladed sword beside himself.  "So, Aaron.  Why don't you regale me with the tale of what you've been up to for the last while.  It's been a time since I've seen you."

The charred waste that they had to make their way past didn't bear well with Aaron. It felt like failure, but he tried his best to hide it. He was glad when Daley set them on a different path, away from the scar.

Once at the cave, Aaron set about to making camp, satisfied with Daley's assessment of the situation. At the howl Aaron paused, eyes gazing into Arden's shadows outside the cave.

Looking at Luke, he frowned, shrugging.

"Just trying my best to manage what we can, here. It wasn't easy." He shook his head, setting his sword and what little gear he had against the cave wall, where Aaron sat beside it.

He gestured to the cave entrance. "At first, the redskins and Amber's forces here were pretty evenly matched, from what I could gather when I showed up. I spent two weeks alone out in the green, performing guerrilla strikes against them by myself, to test their capabilities." His eyes took on a wistful look. "Mostly hit-and-run stuff. Only once did I take on a larger group of them alone, and I've got a few new scars to prove it."

Aaron nodded to Daley. "I came back and met up with Callan and Arden's defenders after that. With their help and what I'd learned from my own experience, we were able to start making a dent in their advance." He shook his head. "Then they started burning us out and we had to order the men back to stave the losses. I should've seen it coming, honestly." He chuckled. "I have too much respect for Arden. I shouldn't have assumed that my enemy felt the same."

Reaching into his pack, Aaron pulled out a skin of rich red wine. He took a short pull, before gesturing it towards Luke. "Not the cheap stuff," he said with a half-smile. "What have you been up to?"
This message was last edited by the player at 00:54, Thu 05 Sept 2013.

While Aaron and Luke discuss their recent activities, Daley sets about hanging a blanket inside the cave entrance to muffle any sounds from inside, and block the firelight.

Then he steps outside, returning a little while later and grabbing himself a bite to eat.

"Still there." he announces quietly, waving a hunk of bread in the general direction of the back of the cave, "Snuck up the 'ill an' seen the fires across the valley.  Reckon as we'll be there round 'bout middle of the mornin'.  All bein' well."

He pauses for a mouthful of the bread, then continues, "Not meanin' to tell you 'ow to do your jobs, but you should make sure as you get a good night's sleep.  Tomorrow's like as not goin' to be busy, an' you'll need you wits 'bout you."

The night passes in relative quiet, save for the occasional cries of animals.

And as dawn spreads its misty light across the forest, the trio set off up the hill and down into the next valley.  Daley knows exactly where he's going, and soon finds his way onto a game trail which makes travel a little easier.

At the edge of a small pond, he stops and crouches.  "They've been 'ere.  See?  No other bugger wears boots like them."  He indicates a strange bifurcate print.  "It's on account of their feet, see?  Only got two big toes on each, with a gap between.  Like this."  The scout holds out his hand, with the thumb and littlest finger extended and the others folded into the palm.

"Makes it bloody easy to spot when you're tracking one of 'em."

Standing, he looks down at the print before lifting his head, "Print's not fresh.  Most likely as it's from yester... bloody 'ell!" this last an awed whisper.

Across the pond a creature has stepped out of the forest, moving quietly on delicate hooves, it's hide shining white in the morning light.  It dips its head to drink, as if completely unaware of the three men, and a sunbeam lancing through the canopy makes its single horn seem to burn.

It drinks its fill, then raises its head to look directly at Aaron, before turning to walk back into the forest.  Just before it disappears from sight, it stops and looks back at the men.  Then it continues walking...

Gazing down at the print, Aaron nodded in agreement. At Daley's awed whisper, Aaron looked up, his eyes widening at what had stepped into view before them from the depths of the forest.

Aaron slowly rose to his feet, his own eyes meeting that of the Unicorn itself. Time stopped, as it was wont to do in such impossible situations, before the animal turned and went on its way.

"I'm not a fan of portents," Aaron said after a time, "but I'd count that as a good one, if anything at all. We have to figure out a way to stop this assault, if just to protect the likes of that"

Daley can only stand, shaking his head in disbelief.  "An omen, yeah.  That's right.  I've 'eard of it, but I ain't never seen it before.  An' if some bugger told me as 'e 'ad, I'd've named 'im liar."

"It's you, Sir.  You've brung good luck to Arden."

The scout grins and claps Aaron on the back before starting to move on.

A short while later, there is a faint smell of smoke drifting among the trees, and Daley signals for quiet as they approach the camp.  The forest itself seems to comply with the instruction.  The air is still, and there is no bird song or other animal sound to disturb the quiet.  "'Ware now.  We're gettin' close."  The trio move onward, and Daley leads them away at an oblique angle before pushing aside a screen of alder.

For the second time that morning the man murmurs a shocked oath, "Bloody 'ell!"

The camp is there, but the fires are no more than smouldering ashes.  The troops who would be, under normal circumstances, at work or rest among the fires are there, but they do not look as if the present any danger.  Instead every one of them is laying, sprawled awkwardly upon the blood stained ground.  Lifeless.

All of them apparently dead...

Aaron scowled as he took in the broken forms before them. "Someone beat us to the punch, Daley," he said quietly.

He gestured to Luke and Daley to stay put. Slowly, carefully, Aaron made his way through the brush, keeping a keen sense of his surroundings and the awareness of his sword's own danger-sense.

Aaron did his best to keep aware of the situation as he approached the closest body, hoping to glean some sort of information as to what had killed so many. Even then, this setting itself could have been a trap for him, but Aaron couldn't simply leave without investigating.
This message was last edited by the player at 01:10, Tue 24 Sept 2013.

Aaron examines the nearest body, one of the red skinned creatures.  It doesn't look like an animal attack.  There is a single clean, deep wound - a cut running from shoulder to abdomen.  Across the ribs, or what passes for ribs, he can see that whatever, or whoever, the attacker was, bone did not stop the weapon.

Something extremely sharp, and used with a lot of force.

The body is still fairly warm, and the copious quantities of blood still wet, so what happened here was probably recent.  One of the horns has been removed.

Nearby he can see the larger horned creature that Daley had described, also looking extremely dead, with its head on the ground a couple of yards away.  Again a clean cut, apparently made with a keen edge.

Most of the dead are armed, or at the very least have weapons nearby.

But not all who were here died here apparently.

There is at least one set of tracks, bloody footprints leading a short distance to the edge of the forest, fainter with each step, until they fade away completely.

Aaron became deadly still when he spotted the tracks. He turned, beckoning Daley and Luke to approach out of the undergrowth. Once there, he outlined the scenario.

"Someone hit these redskins hard and fast, and very, very recently. They also took out that big one you mentioned, Daley." He pointed at the decapitated corpse with his thumb. "It looks like there was at least one survivor, and the tracks are extremely fresh." He nodded his head towards them. "Let's go."

He hastily began moving in the direction of the tracks with Daley and Luke in tow. Something about the way these ones had been killed was nagging at his brain, but he did his best to focus his awareness on their surroundings. Whoever had done this was more than likely still in the area, so caution was important.

"Pleasant."  Luke paced in Aaron's wake.  "Brintizzi?  Jonnee Kay?  One of Amber's own?  Someone with heft and skill, to be sure."  Pursing his lips, he reached ahead, his presence expanding as if to fill the void of possibilities - places he might have been, or would go to in the future.

"I should be able to pick out any ambushes," he muttered.  "Though I'm sure your Lady could do the same.  She's been awfully quiet of late, of course."  Luke showed his teeth in a grin.  "Everything all right between you two?"

Where the bloody tracks end, Daley crouches to examine the earth.

"This ain't the redskins, nor their big friend." he announces, after a few moments.  "More than likely as it's them what attacked 'em.  Looks more like regular shoes of some kind.  Long strides, so going fast.  Reckon as 'ow I can track them easy enough.  More prints there, comin' together an... "

He is interrupted as Luke suddenly hisses and drops into a crouch, holding his head...

"Get away," Luke snarled, his eyes staring into nothingness.  Fear, an unfamiliar emotion, swept over him, to be met by rage.  Tapping his well of strength, he forced his spiritual shields to hold in the face of the assault.  "My mind is my own," he grated in a voice like cracking granite.  "I am free, and will give you NOTHING!"  The last word came as a laboured shout, and he pushed himself to his feet, bowed as if beneath a terrible weight.

Bowed, but not broken.  Not yet.

"Ilse... Arianne," he corrected, "is with her own people again, last I knew." Aaron slowly unsheathed his blade, preparing, looking ahead into the forest. "This sword is a free place, now." A free place, or an empty shell for something new.

His assessment of the carnage had been wrong, though. Looking to Daley, Aaron grit his teeth. "Who could have..." then he stopped as Luke probed outwards, and was struck upon in return. Aaron rushed to his side, placing a hand on the man's shoulder. Aaron applied his own talent at bridging, so familiar to him through his Sjardring training, and his experiences with Cyan and the rest of the group. He reinforced Luke's psychic defenses with his own.

"You will not face this alone." Aaron set his blade hard into the earth, supporting them both. "Who... what... is it?"

Hissing through gritted teeth, Luke seems able to hold his own against whatever is attacking him.  It seems to take some effort - the man is sweating profusely and the colour has drained from his face.  Daley watches curiously as Aaron moves to assist his friend.

For a long moment Luke doesn't answer Aaron's question... and then his face relaxes and he opens his eyes.

Daley moves ahead to scout a little way along the trail, while Aaron pulls Luke to his feet and makes sure he's feeling all right.  Luke, as it turns out, is recovering quickly from the attack.

When Daley returns he points back in the direction he'd been exploring.  "'round 'bout thirty yards down there the five or six of these new fellah's that came 'ere ran into a bunch more.  P'rhaps another twenty.  They're either dead quiet, or the big group only got 'ere after the redskins was all done for.  There's no sign as there was trouble, an' the redskins know their way 'round a forest.  Not seein' 'ow they could miss a couple of dozen people that close to their camp."

"I'm guessin' the second one - it don't seem right as anybody what could be that quiet in a bunch would be thick enough to leave a clear trail like this."

OOC - Sorry for missing this.

IC -

Luke shrugged away from Aaron almost savagely.  "I don't need your help," he hissed, taking a few steps away from the other man.  "I..."  Reaching up, he rubbed his face with his hand and breathed out slowly.  When he finally turned back to face Aaron, his expression had calmed.  "I'm sorry, Aaron.  Old habits.  Thanks for the assist."  An awkward thanks, but true.

Another deep breath.  "It was...a gestalt of some kind, Many minds as one.  Reminiscent of my father, in fact, at least in his current form, and quite a bit more than I could handle.  Had they pressed their assault, or been in closer proximity..."  He grimaced.

One eyebrow cocked, he peered at Aaron askance.  "They said they'd find me.  And that my...'sister' is helping them.  I wonder.  The Archons - Harbonah - took something from Cyan, used it to make hunters.  We've never actually encountered these beings, but they're out there, searching for us.  I can't think of any other 'sister' I might have hereabouts, though it's stretching the definition."

He rubbed his forehead again, wincing.  "At least it's not Abby.  That would be a disaster."  A motion toward Daley followed.  "Sounds like they might be closer than we might hope, as well."

Aaron pulled his hand away sharply at Luke's response, but he waved off his apology. "It's alright, friend. I don't blame you."

As Luke described what he was able to gather from the assault, Aaron's face turned stern. "If what you're saying is right, wouldn't that mean that these 'hunters' are under the command of someone else, given our uneasy truce with Harbonah?"

He shook his head. "We need to pursue this, but I'm beginning to prefer your idea of informing our allies more and more." He looked to Daley, nodding at his assessment of the situation.

"They pushed you, Luke, but only enough to let you know we weren't alone. I hate being manipulated, but we've definitely learned more than I anticipated."

His teeth were set on edge. This felt too much like that time, so long ago, standing at the edge of the burned out husk of a skeletal city, surrounded by cratered, radioactive desolation. A grim shadow of the worlds closer to Amber. He remembered his sword ringing in the back of his mind. Danger... Danger!

Yet he heard, felt, nothing now, and that alarmed him more than if he had.

"We're leaving. Any objections?"

Daley might not understand most of of what his companions are talking about, but he does pick up on some of it.  "If'n it's the same to you, Sir, I reckon as 'ow we shouldn't stay 'round here longer than we has to."  The scout is clearly getting nervous.

"Seems to me as we's got one or two unknown parties out here.  There's the one that made so much pain for 'im, even if we didn't see 'ide nor 'air of it, an' there's the one as did for the red buggers.  Now, they might just be the same folks, in which case we can't say they's our friends, just 'cause they killed all them enemies."

"Or it's two different crowds.  Which case we know one don't like us, an' we don't know what the other one thinks of us, cause we ain't met them yet.  Either way, we need to move."

For a moment it looks like he's finished, and then he adds, "I jus' thought.  After they'd finished with them red boys, this crowd didn't make no job of 'idin' their tracks.  Clear enough they managed to sneak up on the camp, so they' knows their way 'round a forest, but then they went an' left a trail that even a bloody Rupert could follow... no offence Sir.  It's like they didn't care if'n some bastard followed them.  An' that makes me a tad worried."

Aaron nodded at Daley's observation.

"That's what bothers me the most. This entire situation is starting to feel like a setup. Daley, we're dealing with individuals here who are on a different level from what we've been facing so far."

He stood up, cast his eyes about the morbid scene. Aaron realized that he felt something he hadn't felt in years, a sort of giddy anticipation. The threat was significant, but not astronomical... at least, not yet. Enemies he could face, enemies who would test him.

Yet he was bothered by the obviousness of the immediate scenario. It wasn't just the situation, it was him. He should've seen these things, the grand carnage, the attack on Luke, he should have read them all instantly. The anticipation immediately left him and Aaron felt surreal, like he was facing in the wrong direction. He frowned.

"Let's get the hell out of here."

"Harbonah's hunters might not have gotten the word, yet," Luke muttered.  "They're supposedly autonomous, capable of tracking across the worlds.  Maybe some of them have turned up here, looking for you, Aaron.  But yes, they could be under another's command."

His eyes narrowed as he dropped into a crouch, and Luke ran one finger along the grass; it turned to ashes where he touched.  "They were made by Harbonah to be strong enough to deal with us.  Now, Cyan isn't so much a problem for anything that doesn't feel like matching steel against her, but given who hangs around with her, I don't like the sound of that."

Again the wintery smile.  "And...I think you're both right.  This stinks.  We're being pressured to react in a way they see fit.  Obviously the smartest thing would be to get out of here, but that puts us back to square one."  Slowly he stood, stretching.  "Mike would say that the best way to deal with an ambush is to break it.  Smash through it, or turn it around on the ambusher.  I don't think the former is going to work, here.  But the latter?"

He rubbed his jaw thoughtfully.  "Maybe there are ways we can have a look, you and I.  Daley...might be dangerous for him to come."

Aaron nodded. "Yes, I agree. It feels right to want to leave, but if we have an opportunity to gain something from this mess, we should try."

He gestured for Daley to approach. "Make it back to camp as fast as you can, but take no chances. Tell Callan to instruct the troops to stay away from this area until Luke and I return. Let him know what you've seen so far."

Aaron waited for Daley to set off. After a few moments, he fared Luke with a feral grin, his eyes glittering.

"Ahh, it's been too long since I've felt this kind of risk." He sighed, pushing his hair back from his eyes. The fire in his dark eyes died, and he placed a look of firmness upon his comrade. "What's really going on, Luke? Do you really believe you're related to our enemies?" He shook his head. "I've been out of the game for too long. There are pieces missing that I'm unfamiliar with."

It was mostly a question of getting to know what he was about to face, but Aaron knew that he had neglected so much with his fellow wanderers. He had walked with them, so far, for so long, but he truly knew only a few, small things about each of them. It burdened him that he trusted these people, and yet barely knew them, called them 'comrade', but never truly 'friend'. Perhaps he could remedy that, but he knew it would take time.

He tried to take everything in their situation into account, throwing things against his mental wall and seeing what stuck. "What's your plan?"

Daley nods his understanding of Aaron's orders, "You can count on me, Sir."  And then he turns to leave, gets about ten yards, steps around a tree, and seems to disappear into the undergrowth.  Leaving Aaron and Luke alone, in a part of Arden which is unknown to both of them.  Still, at least the tracks of the mysterious killers are clear enough.

The pair set out along the trail, cautiously checking for signs of an ambush, and Luke fills in Aaron on some of the details he may have missed in his travels - how Cyan was captured by the Archons, and how part of her had been taken, a tiny fragment of her persona, nurtured and reproduced by Harbonah's  minions, and placed into the minds of some new creation.  A creation designed to hunt for Cyan, Berd, and any of the other questers they could find.

A creation which, so far, none of its quarry have seen...  To the best of their knowledge.

Andafter a couple of hours they come to a ravine in the forest, perhaps fifty yards wide, and with a fast flowing river crashing over the rocks in its depths.  There is a bridge, a structure of split logs and twisted rope, swaying in the wind which blows up from the abyss.

And on the far side, a thing stands guard.  A creature, bestial in appearance, but shaped like a woman, with a hide of scales and horns, and matted hair.  She holds a sword which is close to six feet long, casually, in one hand, and watches the bridge with one eye, the other a mess of red scar tissue...

"Related..."  Luke laughed, a hard, broken-glass sound.  "I have said similar things from time to time, yes?  But no.  We share certain naming conventions, no more.  Also, they came from some other place, Berd and I came from Outside."  He ponders for a moment.  "There are physical resemblances, if one stretches things somewhat, I suppose.  But by and large, no."  His lip curled into a brief sneer.  "Worth the occasional ironic comment, nothing more."

Then his eyebrow rose.  "MY plan?  I'm following you, Aaron.  Breaking the ambush was nothing more than a suggestion.  I have no clue what this attack might entail...was rather hoping you or your sword might be able to figure that out, since me flitting 'ahead' of us just gets me in trouble."

From there, it was a matter of travelling, and Luke explaining about the Hunters.  Such as they knew of them.  Occasionally the dark man toyed with a fragmented hilt of a sword, one familiar to Aaron.  And then, finally...

"Well.  Look at that." Luke blew out a breath of tension. "Not exactly what I was expecting, but then...we're sort of in the dark there, anyway."  He squinted, holding up his hands to frame the creature.  "I suppose if you looked at it from a certain angle...at night...under a new moon...you might think 'Cyan'.  What do you and Arianne think?"

Still watching the creature, he frowned. "Arianne has been rather quiet, now that I consider.  Anything wrong with you and her, Aaron?  Spat?  Lover's quarrel?"

Aaron snorted and snickered, grinning out of Luke's view. "Arianne and I have parted ways, a while back. I freed her of the burden of putting up with my crap, delivering her back to an old world we both loved, once."

He patted Ilse's hilt over his shoulder. "This one and I still walk together, but we walk alone now, save yourself and the rest of our friends. This sword is an empty vessel." He shook his head. "I pray it doesn't get filled with something untoward."

Aaron ran his fingers across his stubbled chin, getting a good, long look at what awaited them ahead. He squinted, nodding a bit at Luke's description.

"There is... some resemblance, though she lacks our dear Cyan's depth." He chuckled. "I'm pretty familiar with only having one eye. Perhaps I can strike up a conversation with her." He looked over to Luke, smiled a bit, then proceeded to step out of the denser wood, in full view, eventually stopping at the opposite end of the bridge.

"Ho there!" His voice carried hard across the roar of the river. "Is there some sort of toll involved if I want to cross here?"

He knew there was madness here, but Aaron had always been one to take the weirder path. No point in living unless you actually live, after all. Then again... he'd actually have to survive to make that ideal stick. Aaron stood there and tried to look relaxed and nonthreatening.

The guardian of the bridge roared... with laughter.  "You think me a troll, little man?"

A shake of the horned head, "No, I say.  No troll am I, though I have indeed been set to guard the way."  Her good eye narrows, and she peers at Aaron before continuing, "Though perhaps there could be a toll, I suppose."  She smiles, revealing teeth that would not look out of place in the jaws of a shark.

The tip of the blade scrapes at the wooden bridge, and then the monstrous creature clears her throat, and bellows a challenge, "You shall not cross this line in one piece, unless you pay my toll, little man.  And that toll, is... a kiss!"

Luke rocked back and forth on his heels, lips pursed...in thought, not invitation.  Finally he spoke.  "Well, go ahead.  You DID ask, Aaron." Oddly enough, his tone was clear of sarcasm or even amusement.  "Or me.  I'm not caught up in your ridiculous preconceptions concerning beauty, nor do I have issues with hormonal drives, and her straightforward nature is attractive in a curious way.  Your choice.  Or maybe it's a kiss from each.  Whichever."

He cocked his head to one side, consider.  "Colour me curious as to your decision."

"Each of you?" the monstrous creature roars, "Each of you!?!"

"What sort of wanton harlot do you take me for?  Each of you indeed!"

The blade points at Aaron, "I want a kiss from him.  The handsome one!  With the manly scars."

"Oh, manly scars is it?"  Luke gave Aaron a small shove forward.  "Off you go, paragon of masculinity.  Be enthusiastic."

Aaron snorted, running a hand back upon his head, half through his hair. He stifled a laugh, though, better to not offend. He strode forth then, upon the bridge, until he stopped before its erstwhile guard.

His blade slid out of its sheath easily, its edge sliding back and forth before his toes. He felt the urge to grin, but did not allow it, smiling gently at her instead, his eyes glittering.

"A troll? Far from it! I am ashamed to say, a kiss from you would spoil me. I rarely see such beauty as yourself in times like these, and to be treated with such an honor as a kiss, of all things..." he waved it off, shaking his head. "I fear, though I would try, I would ultimately disappoint you."

"Unless," he said, and the sword stopped beside his right foot. "It is a different kiss you mean?" He looked up at her from behind his dark locks, and now the predatory grin met her. "That too, I can provide, though I'd prefer the latter."

She has reach, height, certainly knowledge of my skill... and Cyan's darkest heart. I am at a disadvantage... but oh the thrill! Aaron felt the laughter building in him, but he saved it like a gift for later.
This message was last edited by the player at 00:23, Tue 29 Oct 2013.

"Oh, you have a smooth tongue in your head, smooth as polished steel.  I know I'm no beauty, not even the men of my own kind would say that."

She shakes her head slowly, and smiles that shark-tooth smile again as she slams the tip of the blade down into the bridge.  Then she drops to one knee, bringing her hideous, scarred face closer to Aaron's own level.  Her one eye fixes Aaron with its gaze.  And carefully, she removes her hand from the hilt of the weapon.  "A gesture of good faith."

"A kiss is all I want from you, pretty boy.  Nothing more, since we haven't even been introduced yet.  My name is Crethe, by the by."

Aaron too flipped his blade a bit away, Ilse spearing the ground a foot away from him where it stuck in the grass beside the road and stood. He placed his right hand upon his chest, the feral glitter in his eyes fading to a gentle warmth.

"True. I am Aaron, of... more places than I care to count." He stepped forwards once, reaching to place that same hand upon that brutally scarred face. He gently traced a line, weirdly familiar, down one scar. "You and I share more than scars, yet I find you well met, Crethe."

He was laughing inside. Aaron could feel it. This entire thing was mad, so mad... yet...

Aaron took another step, and now he was face to face with Crethe. Reaching that same hand up and around, he placed it upon the back of her head and, pulling her forwards, placed a gentle kiss upon her scarred forehead.

"No need to hold back on my account," Luke dryly noted.  "Give her something real.  Someone who has won as many fights as she has deserves that much."  She seemed a decent sort, this warrior-woman.  Not for him, mind; Luke held little care for those outside his own race, despite how certain stories might paint him, and he'd never had actual time or desire to seek out a companion.  The only one who had ever held his heart had been his father...who had carelessly tossed it aside.

That was his spin on the whole thing, in any case.

After a moment's thought, he turned away.  Privacy, of course.  As well, he found the whole thing rather poignant.  "I'm getting soft," he muttered, but knew it wasn't that.  Too much time had passed.  His war had been over for eons, the reasons for it left far behind, Outside, and all of his friends and siblings were ages gone.  Only he and his father remained, and Luke found that much of his bitterness and anger had gone to ashes.

Leave Aaron and Crethe, just for the moment.

Crethe laughs, "Is that the way men kiss where you you come from Aaron?  That's... disappointing.  Or do you just need to warm up a little first?  I promise not to bite your face off, if that's what you're worried about."

A grin then, which shows off her savage dentition to good effect.  "And I promise I'll still respect you afterward."

Her powerful hands rest on Aaron's shoulder blades, as she whispers, "Your friend isn't watching any more."

Aaron looked up at Crethe, not a hard thing considering their differences. He shrugged. "Where I come from, it's a bit more intense than that. Let's just say I was being polite," and now he grinned as well. His eyes met hers, feeling the simple, innate connection there that always preceded such things.

The next kiss was not as chaste as the prior, his right hand cupping one side of Crethe's face as he placed it upon her lips, staying for as long as she'd allow. It felt sadly familiar in an old way. When was the last time he'd kissed anyone, nevermind for anything so scarce as love? For all his power, he could not recall.
This message was last edited by the player at 00:54, Wed 13 Nov 2013.

Crethe releases Aaron and breaks the kiss, "That was... better.  And bravely done.  I thank you."  And then she topples slowly sideways, to lay twitching on the bridge, flecks of foam spraying from her lips as she grinds her teeth together.  The foam starts to turn red...

There is a scream, and she arches her back, bending backwards so far that it seems her spine must snap.  Then her legs start kicking against the boards.  Hard.  Wood cracks under the impact.  Her good eye is rolled far back in her head.  Clenched fists are hammering on the wood, blood oozing out from where her nail dig into the palms of her scaled hands.

And then oily black smoke starts to pour from beneath the scales which cover her body...
This message was last edited by the GM at 16:46, Sun 17 Nov 2013.

Crethe slid away from his right hand, in slow motion. His eyes followed her, comprehending what he had expected - a trap, for certain, but not in the way he had assumed. This was far worse, and it filled Aaron with wrath.

He stepped backwards away from the smoke flowing out from Crethe, his left hand darting out, Ilsefranvir flying into his grip like a serpent. His eyes stayed locked into her, but he still sensed his comrade nearby. "Luke!"

The scaled hide splits, and yellow blood flows out to stain the wood of the bridge.  Beneath the scales, the flesh burns with a bluish fire.  Crethe stops thrashing about and, eyes still tightly closed, she screams.

And then there is a flare of light, and her whole body is engulfed in blue flame, and there is a wave of heat intense enough to drive Aaron back and sear the wooden bridge.

And then the flame is gone, leaving only oily black smoke, which disperses to reveal a human woman laying, naked and unmoving, upon the planks in the middle of the charred silhouette of a much larger form...

Aaron released the breath he'd been holding. The smoke disappeared, Aaron's eyes narrowing at what he beheld. He tamped down the wariness he had felt earlier, spinning Ilsefravir around and into its sheath.

He strode forwards as he took off his long coat, crouching down beside Crethe and throwing his jacket across her form. Aaron carefully reached beneath her, lifting her up in his arms. He turned and carried her back the way he had come.

Once he'd reached the other end of the bridge, he set Crethe into the grass before him, waiting.

He thought of many things. Of princesses and frogs; of molting caterpillars; of how illness has a habit of changing, growing into something worse. He wondered which of these things Crethe was like, and he wondered if he'd have to kill her at some point, a thought that caused him no small amount of discomfort.

"Well, that was cute.  You paid at the troll bridge," Luke waspishly noted, staring down at the transformed woman.  "Wonder who this actually is?  And why someone ensorcelled her?"

He grimaced at his companion.  "Sorry I didn't come running, but I figured it was an enchantment rather than attack.  Nice job breaking it.  Guess she picked the right person - you must be a prince, right?"

Squatting down, he studied the naked woman without a hint of embarassment...or lewdness.  Casual interest, nothing more.  "I was a prince, once," Luke mused before his voice sharpened.  "Did you catch the colour of that flame?  Might be nothing...might be something, though, something important.  I could provide her with clothing if you want."  He rocked forward onto his toes, like a bird on a perch. "Let's see if there's any power about you," the dark man murmured, reaching out a hand.

OOC - Will check Crethe for any signs of Patter, Logrus, Sorcery, Trump, etc, etc.

Aaron nodded at Luke's analysis. "Yes, please add some clothes to her. I'm fairly certain she'd appreciate it." Not that she's tough to look at, by any means... still... Unlike Luke, Aaron's interest was a bit more than casual, but he didn't know this woman from Eve, so he wasn't about to make any assumptions regarding Crethe's disposition.

He shook his head, a sad smile on his face. "I'm no prince. I'm just a man." Aaron looked about the area, his smile disappearing into a frown as he finally started taking in everything that had just happened.

"Yes, I noticed that flame. Though I didn't recognize it personally, I won't discount anything, after what I just witnessed." Aaron chewed on his thoughts while Luke set to work. "It feels like someone's manipulating me. I'm a sucker for a damsel in distress."

Groaning, Crethe (if that is her real name) reaches up with one hand to touch her wounded face and the scarred mess that used to be an eye.  Her other eye opens, and she holds her hand out, turning it to examine it carefully, before touching her face again.  "Thank you, Aaron."  Her voice is still recognisable as that of the monstrous creature that had stood on the bridge, but gentler.

"I think I have my own face again.  At least it feels like my face.  Suppose it was too much to hope that my eye would grow back."

With a little effort, she sits up, "I'm sorry for tricking you.  The magic could only be broken if a man kissed me without knowing what would happen when he did."

She twists a lock of blonde hair in front of her eye and studies it carefully.  "I think I'm me again.  My voice sounds like me too."

He waved a hand. "You're welcome, I guess, considering what you went through to get back into this state, I don't know if you should be thanking me."

Aaron shifted to another leg to keep the other from falling asleep, reminding himself that Crethe's blade was on the other side of the bridge, well away from them.

Aaron cocked his head to the side, his eyes narrowing surreptitiously. "And who are you, exactly?"

"Scion of Amber," Luke noted quietly as he waved his hand in a vague gesture.  "Lord of Auld Theriel and San Anyn.  I'd say you more than qualify for the 'prince' label."  Shadows coallesce about Crethe, forming forest green clothing to cover her; it almost looks like military fatigues, complete with comfortable boots.  Luke grinned, his teeth very, very sharp.  "There.  At some point in the future she'll take those off, so I snagged them from then.  Maybe it'll be five minutes from now.  Maybe it'll be in three days.  Either way, they won't vanish until she removes them, so if it's just for a bath make sure there are extras handy."

"I'd have done her up in brilliant whites," he continued, "but under the circumstances...no.  Just don't expect me to whip up a mirror."  He shot Aaron a sharp look.  "The flame?  Aren't most manifestations of your Great Pattern that shade?"

He took a pace back when Crethe fully woke, giving the pair a bit of privacy.

"I am Crethe.  Or, more formally, Cretheddene av Fialla av Bronyn av... av... no, that's gone.  Too long ago.  I am, or was, a princess of Cadiniagart.  But that was years ago.  I don't know how many, but it's a lot."

Crethe examines the clothing provided by Luke, plucking at her sleeve and rubbing the fabric between thumb and forefinger.

"I awoke one day to the screaming of servants, on a bed soaked with blood.  I couldn't remember who I was, or how I got there, but when the guards arrived they said I was a monster who had killed their ruler, their princess.  When I tried to speak, my voice came out only as animal sounds.  I was shackled to a wall and tortured - a punishment for devouring the princess they said."

"Then their new ruler arrived to see me, and the real torture began.  He told me that he was my cousin, and that he now ruled in my stead, having used magic to turn me into a monster that none would recognise as their beloved princess.  Nasty little man.  I never liked him - as a child he took far too much pleasure in pulling the wings of insects."

She tilts her head back, continuing to speak as she looks at the sky, "When they eventually grew tired of hurting me, they decided a public execution was the only way to deal with a monster.  They took me from my cell to be hanged, but I took the chance to escape.  I fled the city and hid in the wilderness, wandering where I would.  Eventually I taught myself to speak again, but saw no point in going home as the famous monster who had eaten their princess.  I knew how to end the curse, my cousin had gloated about that, but it was hard finding a man who would kiss me in that shape."

Aaron listened to Crethe's explanation, his eyes downcast as he considered her past and her situation. His jaw set as she went into detail as to her treatment, treatment by former friends, allies, family. He tried to not let it get to him, but he felt for her just the same.

"How did you end up in Amber, and how long have you been here?" He held out a hand to her, placing his fingers by her jaw and turning her face just-so, to get a better look at her left eye. "I have friends who may be able to do something about that," he said.

He lowered his hand, glancing up at Luke. "We also shouldn't stay here too long, despite my wanting to know more of your story." Not to mention her intentions. He also wanted to take Luke aside and discuss more of what he'd sensed so far.

Despite Crethe's arrival, Aaron still remembered what he'd seen in the forest prior, as well as Luke's encounter with the gestalt. Crethe showing up when she did, and with such a convincing story, struck him as a bit convenient.

"How I came to Amber is simple enough.  I am...  or I was a monster.  I came here to fight.  The King Random hired mercenaries from surrounding lands to defend the city and the forest.  I have not been here long." Crethe explains, "I signed up when the invaders started encroaching on Arden.  There was nothing for me at home, but I was always loyal to Amber when I ruled in Cadiniagart, so it seemed a good idea to come here and help defend it."

"Then too there is the matter of time.  I was a monster for so long that I learned to fight expertly with that blade." a gesture towards the discarded sword, longer than she is now.

"By coming here I hoped to find an end to the curse, or to my life."

"I won't say that we were planning on coming this way," he said, remembering the Unicorn. "But perhaps we arrived here for just that reason." He shook his head. "I cannot say. Probabilities are soft things and easily manipulated. I am glad, though, that I could be your alternative to a brutal end."

Aaron nodded, his apprehensions mostly settled for the moment. Though he had much to consider and think upon, he knew it wouldn't do them any good to delay any longer. He rose, extending a hand to help Crethe up.

"Well, taking all of that into account, what would you like to do now?"

"An ugly story," Luke muttered, "one played out a million times upon a million worlds.  The words might change, but the themes remain the same.  It beggers the mind that people invent sources of evil when the seeds lie so often within their own hearts.  Looking for excuses, I suppose."

He snorted. "Fortunately, Aaron happened along.  I'm not sure it would have done any good for me to kiss you, after all, but he's certainly a man, with all that entails.  Including the ridiculousness at times."  He motions.  "Which encompasses fixing eyes.  Whatever he offers, don't take him up on it."

"OUTSIDE of that, though, right now he's making perfect sense.  It's good to free someone from shackles of any kind, including sorcery.  And he did a fine job of that." Luke nodded.  "Definitely sorcery, Aaron.  I can...'taste' it on her, the old bastard would say." He cocked an eyebrow.  "Cadiniagart, eh?  Your cousin's probably dead.  Assassinated at the start of this whole mess.  Pity.  I would have enjoyed paying him a visit.  Afterward." He squinted at the trail 'ahead'. "You wouldn't happen to know what was past your troll bridge, would you?"

"More forest that way, and a trail leading deeper into it." Crethe confirms, a little redundantly, before adding, "If you follow the trail, there is a river, and a fortress.  Never been into it, only seen it over the water, but it's old, and looks fit to crumble at any moment, like its only held together by ivy and cobwebs."

A smile appears fleetingly on her lips, "Can't say that I'd be sorry to confirm that he's been killed.  If somebody ended his life, then they saved me a job and, at the same time, he probably stopped them ending mine.  If I ever see his grave I should leave some flowers and a letter of thanks."

"As for what I'll do now... I owe you Aaron.  You took a risk and helped me, even without knowing why.  I owe you.  I'd like to tag along with you, help with whatever you're doing."

She moves across and works her blade out of woodwork of the bridge, hefting it two-handed.  "I can still use this, I think.  I used to swing it one-handed, of course, but I believe I can still take a life with it.  Or, if you'd rather, I've learned to hunt, and to find herbs, and to cook."

Aaron followed Crethe to the other side of the bridge, giving the blade she hefted an experienced look, taking it and its wielder into account as a whole. The blade was almost as long as she was. He crossed his arms over his chest and considered the proposition.

"I won't speak for the rest of my friends. We can always use more help from experienced warriors..." He trailed off. A small smile appeared and he shook his head.

"As for myself, I'd appreciate the company. Walk the worlds with me, and you'll find no shortage of reasons for living, that's for certain." he waved absently at Luke. "Despite what he says, I really do mean to do something about that eye of yours." Aaron grinned at her. "Though the scars themselves aren't unappealing. They sharpen your femininity."

Pleasant words, for certain, but the things he wasn't saying were more important. Months alone in Arden, with only the soldiers for company, and even then not always, had reminded him of his own... eccentricities in his personality. Aaron had started changing when Arianne asked to be free, and now with that months or even years past depending on where you were standing... being alone with yourself could be a crushing thing.

This time in Arden had caused Aaron to come closer and closer to the old ways of his kin on Ald Thiriel. Rabid, unthinking, conscious only of the action and not the reasons behind them. A learned thing amongst Ygg's dense wood and grand, wild beasts: The lone wolf, despite its strengths, always died alone. He was not willing to live that kind of empty, selfish life. Not any more.

He looked to Luke, then. "What say you, old grump? We're heading to yon fortress." He was just as curious to see what was ahead as anyone else, not to mention taking the time to know his new companion.
This message was last edited by the player at 20:43, Sun 01 Dec 2013.

"Someone killed Cadiniagart's ruler 'recently'," Luke confirmed. "The way time works, I couldn't say if it were your cousin." He shrugged.  "Either way, your cousin is certainly dead, barring time having gone in a different direction and your own issues having come to pass afterward." The dark man frowned.  "I'd have to check.  I might live in it, but time is not exactly transparent to me."

He remained quiet as Crethe spoke with Aaron and vice versa, choosing instead to eye the trail.  When Aaron finally bespoke him, Luke grunted sourly. "You're describing the old bastard, not me.  I don't feel my age.  Yet.  But curious, yes. I'd like to see this fortress.  Do a delving, peer through the hours and days in the past and future around it.  Might tell us something."  He studied Crethe as she moved the sword about. "Looks like I made the right choice for your clothing.  If you need armor, we might be able to snag some of that as well.  Since it's more generic, I'll avoid paradoxes and just pick it up from somewhere."

With all the recent battles, it shouldn't be hard to find a suit that its owner no longer needed.

As they move off along the trail, Crethe takes a moment to glance back towards the bridge.  "I don't think I'll miss that place.  Even a few days living out here, ambushing enemy scouts and avoiding the larger groups... well, let's just say the novelty soon wears off.  Even faster when the weather's as bad as it's been."  A look up at the sky, "Though it's a bit better today.  A sign that things were going to improve, I thought.  And I was right."

"Ah... "

There is a footprint in a muddy puddle on the trail.  Similar to the ones that Daley had found close to the enemy camp.  The ones belonging to whoever had annihilated the enemy force there.  "Looks like somebody else was going the same way we are.  Friend of yours?  Whoever it is, they aren't trying to hide."

The trail continues for about an hour and, just as described, it comes to a slow moving river, perhaps fifty feet wide.  On the far side is an area of open ground, where a fortress stands, just barely.  The walls are crumbling and tilted crazily.  Festooned with ivy.

From here, hidden among the undergrowth, there are no sentries visible, but there is a thin column of smoke rising from inside the walls...

He listened to Crethe talk about old things, agreeing in his heart too easily for his own good. Yet she was right. Things did improve.

The path led them on. Aaron frowned when they came upon the footprint. At Crethe's comment, he shook his head. "No friend of ours, as far as I know."

They moved onwards, sun slowly passing its way over Arden's canopies. Soon he heard the river and, stopping, saw the fortress beyond. A careful, practiced gaze told him much of its good positioning. There were no soldiers about, but the place wasn't empty, either. Viewing the fallen fortress, he was spontaneously reminded of a song he once heard, and lightly whispered:

"Dancing once upon the way,
Alight such pose as toes might stay,
Her form so frail yet belle just-so
for the Demon in the Ivy."

He snorted, gesturing out at the ruins beyond. "We happened upon a grand slaughter before coming across you, dear heart," Aaron said quietly.  "Unless it was you who did the slaughtering, odds are good our target or targets are there."

Crethe's face falls, saddened by memories.  "There have been days when, I'm ashamed to say, rage took hold of my heart and I committed great slaughter upon those who would kill me, venting my frustration at my condition upon those who, while admittedly enemies, neither knew of who I was in a former existence, nor of how that existence ended."

She looks towards the fortress, and adds, "There is recent blood on my hands, but only from the deaths of lone scouts or small patrols.  No grand slaughters."

A pause then, as Crethe considers, "As I recall, although there is a ford here, the river is shallow and slow for some distance upstream.  If we head that way, we can cross out of sight of the fort, and come upon the place through the green."

"Rage happens."  Luke shrugged.  "Trite, but true.  Aaron can attest to that.  Myself?  When I was wronged, I raised up an army of my family - those who thought as I did - and assailed the walls of my father's fortress." He studied the keep before them, rocking back and forth on his heels. "We lost, of course; my father didn't even have to get off his bloody throne.  But we killed a lot of people I called friends and cousins.  I don't regret spitting in dear daddy's eye, but the killing?  I hated him for that - for not stepping in.  He could have crushed us with ease, but no, he left it to his children to fight it out."

"And I hated myself, too."

He hummed a brief tune, then shook his head.  "You killed enemies, girl.  People who would have killed you, but people who didn't know you, who you didn't know.  In a way, that's lucky - you don't have the good memories of time with them to keep alive the memories of how their faces looked when you cut them down."  Hard, almost brutal words, delivered in a quiet, musing tone.

"It's a damned shame, but let it go," Luke advised.  "You weren't a monster, except on the outside.  You were in a crap situation, and things got out of hand.  Well, the universe goes on.  You'd better do the same."

He waved ahead.  "I like your idea.  Let's take that route, and we'll see what's what."  With a grunt, he hefted his axe.  "I'm feeling a little cranky at the moment.  Bad memories, mind invaded, this curse business...I'm starting to see why the old bastard sometimes gets an itchy talon for the Smite button."

Aaron snorted. "When we all hate ourselves, all we have left is each other." He reached up behind his left shoulder, Ilsefranvir sliding from the sheath there, hefting its familiar weight. He placed his other hand on Crethe's shoulder and gestured in the direction of the river. "Lead the way, beautiful. Let's see if we can crash this party."

"Beatiful!" Crethe shakes her head and starts to lead off along the bank of the river, "Though given my previous appearance I suppose I shouldn't find that description surprising."

"And I hate myself far less than I hate what made me into a monster."

The short detour allows them to cross the river  at a point where it is only inches deep, though the far bank is steep and a little treacherous to climb.  Soom they are back and approachint the crumbling fortress from the forest side.  Through a break in the collapsed wall they can see a campfire, and a figure sitting by it.  He looks human enough from this distance and angle, and seems to have his back turned.

A large cooking pot is suspended over the flames, and as they watch, the man stands, revealing that he isn't entirely human, as few of those have tails, and helps himself to some food, taking a small taste and pouring the rest back into the pot.  Then he sits down again...

"That's the spirit," Luke muttered as he walked. "But you people...so concerned about what you consider to be 'beauty'.  Your standards aren't 'beautiful', your standards are 'perfection'.  A tiny mark, a refractive plane a touch off-angled that prevents the exact same colours at every angle, and you devalue a diamond because it's 'flawed'."

He snorted. "Slavish conformity to standards doesn't exactly celebrate the unique.  Do you all honestly want to be sheep?"

Upon their arrival close to the campsite, he squatted down and studied the distant figure. "I could run a check on it...in fact, I will.  Something passive, though, so I won't tip them off to our arrival," he murmured.

The creature pushes a little more wood into the fire.  Then, a few moments later, it starts whistling quietly, a slow tune full of long, drawn-out notes.  Mournful sounding...

"Not a happy camper, this one.  He's from hereabouts - far enough that his world doesn't have a trade treaty with Amber, but this area to be sure."  Luke pursed his lips. "He doesn't seem too pleased with his lot at the moment.  A touch depressed, perhaps."

His eyes narrowed. "Also there's a bunch more just on the other side of that wall of the fortress, there.  Same sort of thing."

Aaron narrowed his eyes in thought. He hadn't anticipated a situation like this, but perhaps they could make the most of it.

"Curious. What are the odds of us convincing them we're friendly?" He shook his head. "Somehow, I doubt I'm getting out of this one with only a kiss."

Crethe chuckles quietly. "It might work at that.  I've not seen his like before, so they might be new here, and not altogether sure who's who.  Mostly I've been seeing those red skinned things that've been all through this area."

She shifts her weight a little, getting more comfortable, "In any case, we know he isn't alone, so they don't have surprise working for them, and trying to use it might work against them, simply because we won't be as surprised as they might think."

"If you carry my sword, as well as your own, they'll think I'm unarmed and harmless.  Then, if any trouble starts you just pass it to me, and they suddenly have an extra fighter to deal with.  And walking into the camp with an unarmed woman at your side makes it look like you're not expecting any fighting."

Nodding, Aaron slowly rose, extending a hand for Crethe's blade.

"I'd like to leave here with more allies than I arrived with. Luke, monitor us from here and we'll see if we can put ourselves in an advantageous position. If not..." he trailed  off with a shrug. "Otherwise, we'll try to hit them hard and fast and hopefully not make too large of a mess."

Aaron and Crethe move forward, while Luke hangs back to keep an eye on them.

The two make their way across an area of broken stones which marks the fallen wall.  Of course silence is difficult to maintain on such a footing.  A stone turns underfoot, Crethe stumbles, and the cook rises quickly and turns to face the source of the sudden noise, drawing a long knife as he does so.

He makes no move to attack, though.  He stands staring at the pair, his face human in appearance, save for the eyes, which are golden in colour and have slit pupils.  His tail thrashes and twitches behind him, like that of an irritated cat.

The head tilts to one side, and he speaks, "Who be ye, strangers, to walk into our camp unannounced?"

The question brings sounds of further movement, and occasional calls from behind the more intact wall to the right of the gap, "What be it, Gnecht?  Trouble?"

Aaron feigned surprise when Gnecht rose to question him. Holding Crethe by the arm with one hand and her sword in the other, he put on a hopefully convincing frown.

"What's this? I wasn't told there'd  be a detachment stationed in this area!" Aaron, holding Crethe's sword carefully between crossguard and blade, gestured to Gnecht with the pommel. He scowled. "Who are you? What are you doing here? Whom ordered you lot to bivouac here? Once this mess is all over, they and I are going to have words."

The man-like creature looks uncomfortable before Aaron's questioning, but stands up straighter.  "Adjunct Gnecht, currently I be commanding the Fourth Brigade, if'n ye can still call it a Brigade when there be only eight of us left.  Sir."  That last word hesitant and nervous.

"We walked into an ambush by unknown enemies, and we be all that remains of the Fourth, to my knowledge.  And as ye can see... " he gestures towards the others of his ilk, who still stand near the wall, and appear to be trying to straighten themselves up, except for two who still lay on the ground, "we be a sorry lot."

The others have assorted injuries, Aaron can now see.  One of them is even missing an arm, a crude dressing covering the stump, just below the elbow.  It doesn't seem to discourage him much though.  He salutes, wrong-handed, and announces, "Sorry though we be, Sir, we still be ready to fight for Amber."

"Doesn't exactly sound threatening to our purposes," Luke muttered, ambling up, hands in pockets.  Whatever weapons he had couldn't be seen. "An ambush by unknown enemies, though..." He eyed the group speculatively.  "Archons probably wouldn't have left this much of them."

Tempting as it was to issue some kind of command, he forebear.  Better to let Aaron keep his 'position' as the commanding officer and not muddy the waters.  "Too bad the old bastard isn't here.  He might have been able to heal this 'sorry lot', as they put it."  A snort. "'Tough guys', more like.  As your civillian advisor, Aaron, I'm quite curious as to any descriptions we can get of this unknown enemy." 

Teeth glittered in his smile.  "I still have that headache."
This message was last edited by the player at 15:19, Thu 09 Jan 2014.

When Gnecht announced that he and his group served Amber, Aaron visibly relaxed, dropping the pretense of command. His look softened as he took into account the difficulty these soldiers had suffered. He handed Crethe her heavy blade.

"Do not apologize," Aaron said, gently but firmly. He placed a hand on Gnecht's shoulder, meeting his eyes. "I apologize for being so stern. We too, encountered a threat on the way here, and were unsure as to your allegiance. Considering all you've been through, it doesn't surprise me that you feel the way you do."

He gestured further into the camp. "Come. Tell me more of what you've faced. Once we're finished here, I'll figure out a way to get your men out of this mess." He paused, then added: "Maybe out of Amber entirely, for some R&R."

Moving back, behind the fire, where the ruins provide a little more shelter, Gnecht and his one-armed companion seat themselves on the ground, and wait for their guests to do likewise.

"This be Folch, he be a good fighter, Sirs, likely the best we's got left."  The injured creature gestures with his missing hand, "Not likely the best now."  Perhaps surprisingly, he doesn't seem too distressed at losing an arm.

"We's been out here, fighting the Taurin.  Be ye knowing them?  Red skin, big, vicious buggers in a fight, hundred times worse in a dirty fight."  Grins from both Gnecht and Folch at that assessment.  "Doing good we was.  The Taurin be good fighters, but not like the Fourth Brigade, as was."

Then we was being jumped by some new fellas.  Blue skin, horns, strong as any three of us.  We's never been seeing them afore.  Wiped out half the Fourth, real fast.  Then hunted what were left.  We was trying to get to Amber, but they always be heading us off, pushing us away from the city.  They's not crossing the river, mind ye.  We's being safe here while we's thinking on what to be doing next."

"They won't cross water?" Aaron frowned in consideration. "We haven't encountered their like in these parts before, or anywhere else that I can recall."

The fact that his group had made it to the fortification without much trouble did not sit well with Aaron. He suddenly felt trapped, wondering if an ambush party was waiting for them in the forest beyond. <i>No use worrying about that now.<i>

"What did you notice about these blue people? How did their command and combat differ from the Taurin? How swiftly did they strike?"

It pained Aaron to probe these injured men, but if this enemy force had a way to strike at them beyond typical strategy, he needed to know, and fast. He wanted to be on the move, but it would take time and planning to get what was left of Gnecht's men out of here.

"It's possibly a strategic thing," Luke muttered. "The 'not crossing the river'.  Doesn't mean they're all vampires."  He paused. "Grave-scented parasites...never really liked them."

Pursing his lips, he studied the soldiers before him.  It was an interesting question...were they from close enough to Amber that he couldn't affect them?  Or is it possible that he might?  Of course, it would be pulling a trick rather like the old bastardBerd, but Luke figured he could pull it off.  Berd, after all, had done similar things some time back, and the dark-haired man was fairly certain he matched his father's strength at the time.

"I might be able to do something about that arm of yours," he muttered to the one-handed soldier.  "Could try, anyway.  And...you're probably better off getting assistance in a missing body part from me, anyway.  His methods -" a jab of the finger toward Aaron "- tend to be somewhat drastic."

"No offence, Sir, but I'll be thanking ye to leave my arm be."  The wounded Folch almost snarls at Luke.  "Injuries is a mark of pride.  Fighting injuries brings a lot of honour to a warrior."

"Folch's talking out of his rump, if ye'll pardon my speaking so blunt with the lady sitting there." Gnecht interrupts with a chuckle, "He's just thinking as how he'll be getting a nice fat pension for a wound like that when we's getting home.  Worse it's looking, more he gets."

"Aye, a thing like this is how ye knows as yer becoming too slow, and it's time to lay off the soldiering."

Gnecht considers the question of the enemy crossing the river, "I'm not knowing as they won't cross water.  I just knows as they hasn't crossed this water.  Yet."

"When we runned into them, they hit us hard, and fast.  And dead quiet.  When we was fighting the Taurin, we could hear and see them giving orders.  First job were always to be looking for the ones doing the ordering, and take them down."

A shake of his head, "But these new fellas.  They didn't seem to be passing orders."

"Were like they was all knowing what to do, all the time."

"Aye.  Even when things was changing, they all knew right away what to be doing about it.  We tried changing how we was fighting, and they all knew right away what to be doing about it."

Aaron ignored Luke, for the most part, though he was glad to have his outlook on things. It kept him from becoming narrow minded.

When Gnecht described the tactics of their enemy, Aaron clenched his eyes shut, rubbing the oft-broken spot between his eyes with his fingers.

"Their command structure does not surprise me. Quite the opposite. I should've seen it coming." He opened his eyes, looking at Gnecht. "How many of your men are in well enough condition to leave?"

"All of them can be moving out.  Them as can't walk can be carried." Gnecht confirms, "We was waiting here yo see if'n we couldn't pick up any stragglers.  But we's been here four days now.  Don't reckon as how any more of us is going to turn up.  Not now."

"Ye should know, mind, that if'n ye was thinking of going downstream, ye'll be walking into a hornet's nest.  That end of the woods's swarming with enemy troops.  Like they's meeting up ready for a big shove."

"Fair enough."  Luke raised both hands in a peacekeeping gesture.  "Far be it from me to get between a man and his retirement...a soldier, no less.  I'll just leave you as is, and you can head on home to relax on a beach somewhere."

He considers the discussion as it flows back and forth, ambling over to seat himself near Crethe.  But not too close.  Aaron seemed to have taken a shine to the woman, and the last thing Luke wanted was some kind of jealousy springing up.  Unwarrented, of course; he had no interest of that sort in humanity or its various reflections, despite the stories people had told in the past.

It wasn't even a disgusting thought; just completely irrelevant.

The revelation of the enemy's structure and their methods of battle...well, no real surprise, if they were of the same order that had assaulted Luke's own mind.  It wouldn't be difficult for a group mind to communicate in such a fashion, and with a small number reading the minds of the enemy, all would be aware.  Fairly clever.  There were things Luke might do to prevent it, but that would depend upon how strongly they weighed within reality itself, and how close this world lay to Amber.

The old bugger could do it, no doubt,  but Luke?  Maybe not, the man conceded with some annoyance.

"Better have them get gone," he muttered.  "Or Folch won't much like the retirement he receives.  This is going to get messy."  And for sure, Aaron was better suited - literally and figuratively - for such conflicts.

One hand brought out an object roughly the length of his forearm; it caught the light of the sun and threw it back in a fractal rainbow, all broken and dancing.  The hilt of a sword, its guard modest, its blade slim and only a handspan in length before a break.

"'Cleft song'."  Luke pursed his lips. "Might be able to do something with this after all."
This message was last edited by the player at 13:19, Mon 20 Jan 2014.

Aaron frowned. These men had been beaten hard, but not hard enough to be out of the fight, it seemed. He couldn't afford to throw them to the wolves, and he wasn't willing to put them needlessly in danger.

He saw Luke unsheathe a blade made of rainbows and sighed.

"Alright, Gnecht. We're getting the hell out of Dodge." He wondered how, though. This far into Arden, how far were they from Amber? Would it be faster to Walk them to the position of his troops? "Get your men together. I'm going to work out how we're leaving this place."

Aaron moved to Luke and Crethe, then. "This isn't going to be a walk in the park. With their wounded, it won't speed us up any," he said quietly, crouching before Crethe. "I'll have to sit for a few minutes to get a good sense of our position relative to Amber proper. Maybe I can Walk us out of here, but I don't like the idea of someone getting a bead on us if I try."

He looked to Luke and Crethe, then. "Any thoughts?"

"Alternately, we can let them lug themselves out of here while we move on ahead," Luke countered.  "I think anything there is going to have its hands full with us, and not have to worry about a bunch of injured soldiers."  His lips twisted down into a frown.  "But if you're set on it...I can move myself, only.  I'm not Berd - I can't protect people with me from the places I go.  The Underflow is murder if you don't have the right guide.  At best, I could shift your new friends through the Myriad Worlds in a similar fashion to yourself, but not as quickly.  So we're stuck with you doing it, or not at all."

The dark man cocked his head, a small smile appearing.  "You, Cyan, and James.  The three of you.  It doesn't matter how big the situation, you're always looking out for the individuals.  I suppose that's why you've come so far - it's easy to get dispirited if you're always after the Big Picture, but when you're working on saving that person, right there, it's hard to lose that drive."  He snorted, a disparaging sound.  "I think that's why we've lost others.  This problem...it's so huge that after a while, it probably feels impossible.  Hard to keep the spirits up."

He stretched in place.  "So let's save your men.  You walk them.  I can't help with that, but what I can do is provide one hell of a rearguard, or a distraction if need be."

His fingers touched the broken blade. "There was a time when this blade was whole," Luke muttered. "Before the old man cracked it.  I can't fix it, but I remember that time, and so does the sword."

Crethe suppresses a snort at Luke's assertion that whatever is out in Arden will have its hands full with the three of them, "Are you sure?  Not so long ago something out there gave you a bloody good kick in the head, so to speak.  We just don't know enough about what's waiting downstream from here."

"Going for reinforcements would be better, in my opinion."

Luke turned to study Crethe for a long moment.  "It gave me a bloody good kick in the head because I wasn't expecting it," he finally stated.  "I'm rather certain anyone could stab you in the back if you weren't aware they were coming.  It might be a tad bit different if you knew they were there, and some of their own capacities."  He smiles, the expression as jagged as Crethe's own used to be before her transformation. "Not to say I could take them, but they'll find things a little different now.  Enough to, one expects, keep them busy for a bit, and that's without Aaron doing his own thing with the Great Pattern."

A shrug followed as he turned the broken sword around in his hands, toying with it.  "Whatever that might be."

"Of course, we could go for reinforcements," he mused. "Leave a near-unknown here, unwatched, unimpeded, while we hare off with the injured soldiers to grab a small army.  Wouldn't take more than a few days, unless Aaron has one stuffed up his sleeve.  Or Amber Royalty, I suppose, though we'd have to convince them, and find ones that might make a difference.  Again, leaving this enemy alone, unwatched, and unimpeded."

The sword disappears...somewhere.  "No, I don't think so.  If Aaron decides to shepard these soldiers home, I'll stick around and keep an eye on things here.  At the least, it might give some warning if something transpires.  Alternately, should Aaron come to this decision, he and I can see what we can find out about this group while the soliders hurry back and report.  Then by the time reinforcements do show up, we might actually have useable information.  But that's up to Aaron."

The dark man turned in a slow circle, studying the land about himself.  No, studying the world.  For an instant, he seems to blur, dozens of Lukes occupying the same space, all in slightly different postures.  Then it ends, and he nods.  "For myself, I'm staying."

Smiling a sad smile at Luke's outburst, Aaron chuckled.

"I'm choosing to save these people because they're people, just like you and I. I'd do no less for yourself, Luke." There was no hint of self-righteousness in his voice, only the tone of simple fact. He waved a hand. "I don't know why. Atonement, maybe?" His laugh held no bitterness, surprisingly enough. "No, I don't think so. More like, I'm doing this because it defines who I am as a man. A living, breathing denizen of Shadow."

Crethe mentioned reinforcements when Aaron looked up at her from his crouch. He then measured Luke for a long time after he stopped speaking, finally nodding in agreement, regarding him staying the course.

"You've stated what I was considering anyway. I had a feeling you'd want to stick around." He grinned a feral grin as well, to match Luke's own as he rose to his feet. "Believe me, I'd rather take it to them right now." The grin faded into a simple smile as he shook his head. "But I can't let allies, good strong allies, go to waste. That includes yourself, so be careful."

He held Luke's gaze for a good few moments. "I won't linger in Amber long, but when I return, I'm going to hit them as hard as possible," he said, his voice firm. "Find what you can about them, but beware of the gestalt. I know I don't have to say it, but I won't tolerate it if they get their hands on you."

During the conversation, he had been measuring his position to Amber in the back of his mind, the backs of his eyes aching from the concentration. He could do it, move this group, and in fairly good time, it seemed.

"Gnecht!" Aaron yelled to the group. "Get your men together. We're moving out on the hour."

"It's because you're a good person, simple as that."  Luke stared off into the distance, eyes narrowed.  "Damned few of your kind around these days.  Hang onto it."

He swung back around to face his companion.  "I, however, am not.  Too much of a big picture sort of fellow, and the universe, sad to say, requires both kinds.  So I'll leave you escort these soldiers and your lady friend back to somewhere safe while I pick up the other half of the job.  Seems fair, and keeps the balance going.  Attempts to contact me will likely fail," he warned.  "I'll be messing around with this world if I can, and it'll hopefully put the kibosh on the psychic stuff.  Or dull it, at the least."

The dark man rocked back and forth, balls of feet to heels.  "Of course, nobody has had any way of contacting me for...ooo, eons.  Certainly not in this place."

"And don't worry, my plan isn't to go out in a blaze of glory."  He chuckled. "My plan is to make the other fellow do that.  So I'll stay cautious, work on gathering intelligence, and possible stall them if I can without getting my head turned inside out."  One lip curled slightly, and Luke shook his head. "Things were so much easier when it was just Dorian blowing up worlds in my face."

He shot Aaron a significant glance, returning his stare.  Then grinned.  "And...if you bump into Cyan, might want to cut back on the whole 'Shadow' thing.  Our dear daddy informs me she's touchy about that."

"Looking forward to your return.  Maybe we can figure out a way to hurt these things."

Aaron sniffed, smiling. "A good person?" He shook his head. "One of these days, I'll tell you about my daughter."

He gripped Luke's left forearm and nodded. With that, he turned, caught Crethe's eye and set towards Gnecht and his group.

"Let's go, Gnecht," he said when he reached them. "Your men and mine will share stories of combat in the next few days. Come. Tell me of your battles as we travel together."

Gnecht rises, puts the first two fingers of one hand to his lips and gives a shrill whistle.  Heads turn to face him.

"Listen ye!  These officers are going to be leading us to camp.  They know a true way back."  He raises his right hand, palm towards them and digits spread, "Ye be having five szata, then we go, if'n ye're ready or no.  Take only that what ye can carry easy, and be ready to help our brothers."

There is a bustle of movement as belongings are sorted.  Some picked up, and some cast aside.  For each item dropped on the ground, the men snarl a brief phrase, and then spit on it.  "A curse." Folch explains, "Sickness and death on any enemy what dares to take anything of ours."

Even the wounded get to their feet, insisting that they can walk, even if they'll need help should the way become difficult.

Gnecht's lips have been moving silently as he gathered his own belongings, and suddenly he yells, "TIME!" and all movement in the makeshift camp stops.

"Sir, we's ready to be movin, at yer word."

"Yes. We're moving out." Aaron looked to Crethe to make sure she was in order as well, then raised a single hand to Luke in departure.

Then he began to move, the path in his mind simple and set, assured he could get this group of beleaguered warriors to a proper place. Aaron fell into a deep concentration, feeling the subtle relations between worlds as he began their journey.

"Outstanding," Luke muttered.  He threw a brief wave back at Aaron, then returned his attention to the path ahead.  It wouldn't do, after all, for the man to think he cared.  That might lead to drunken stories, brotherly bonding, and Aaron actually being worried about him.  Irritating, that.  Luke had damned few friends for most of his existence, and outside Aaron, none at all at the moment.

He couldn't afford Aaron doing something insane in an attempt to help him.

"Probably lose another body part," the dark man muttered, with a short chuckle.  His intrinsic power flowed from him like waves on a sea, slowly leeching out into the world around them, twisting and warping it.  It wasn't easy, not this close to the icy pole of Amber.  No, indeed; he wasn't certain he could manage it.

But if he could, it might come as a rude shock to whatever had invaded his mind.

Part of his mind - a small part, for Luke could not multi-cognizance in parallel like his father - focused instead upon cloaking himself, dropping a dim shield over his own conciousness.  It did nothing for his physical form, but physical form wasn't really the issue, here.

"All right," Luke whispered, one eyebrow quirking alongside the corner of his mouth.  "Let's see about holding this place.  Then get suicidal and try to figure out about the enemy."

Aaron starts to walk with Crethe, now carrying her own blade again, a little behind him and two paces to his left.

The injured warriors, the ones who had been laying still for most of the visit to the camp, are limping along a couple of paces further back, flanked by Gnecht and Folch.  The rest of the ragtag band of survivors are strung out behind them.

The path through the forest seems difficult at first, but gradually eases as they progress.

After about half a mile, Aaron looks back to notice that the men are keeping pace easily, so he speeds his own pace, following a trail which seems oddly devoid of obstacles, even minor ones.  It's like walking in a garden, rather than the wildwood.

They make good progress, and then Gnecht speaks, his voice low and urgent, "Sir, we's being follered.  Off to yer right, about fifty paces out.  Can't see who it is, but they's trying ter stay hid."

Back at the makeshift camp, Luke sits quietly amidst the rubble and discarded (and apparently cursed) belongings of the troops...

"A tail?" Aaron frowned, but wasn't overtly concerned. He'd assumed that they would be followed, but was it a single individual alone, or a scout or free-runner from a larger company?

The path was easy and Aaron knew he could continue apace, but he couldn't risk leading Gnecht's men into a potential ambush. Though he kept moving, he gestured to Crethe to approach him.

"We've got a tail. Fifty paces out from my right side." Aaron didn't want to risk her or Gnecht's men in an unknown situation, but there were too many uknowns, and he felt he'd just have to leave it be for now. He nodded to Gnecht. "They have the advantage of having eyes on us. if we move anyone against them, they could bolt, or worse, call someone down on us." His frown remained. "I'll just have to make some adjustments so our tail needs to compensate. Maybe I can force them into a mistake."

With that, he urged Crethe and Gnecht to be prepared, advising Gnecht to instruct his strongest men to be wary of an ambush.

With that said, Aaron kept them moving, adjusting their path to make the surrounding area less and less dense, until the path itself seemed to lazily meander into a fully open field, its short, golden grasses framed very distantly by sparse woodland.

Flexing his hands, Luke finally stood.  "All right," he whispered.  Now, with a stronger hold over the reality surrounding himself, he spun a mental fog, a haziness of static that rendered psychic contact all the more difficult.  A thin smile cut across his lips as he raised his own mental defenses as well, shrouding himself in a fashion similar to Berd.  "Should give me enough shielding...though it works both ways."

The fog would also work upon his own supernatural senses.

"Now.  Let's go see if we can find that enemy," the dark man muttered, walking forward along the path the soldiers indicated.

Aaron steps out into the meadow, startling a family of deer.  For a moment the animals stand and stare at him, and then they break, running for the tree line on the far side of the open area.

Aaron can sense the others behind him as he starts across the expanse of lush grass, following what amounts to little more than a seldom-used game trail.  Gnecht catches up with him again.  "Can't be sure, Sir, but I's thinking as we's lost our friend.  Hasn't seen him these last ten or fifteen szata."

He looks around, noting the position of Kolvir, relative to their own.  "We's making good time, Sir.  Better'n I would've thought."

Back at the ruined fort, Luke sets out along a track which, more or less, follows the river.  He's only been walking for about twenty minutes when he hears voices somewhere ahead of him...

Aaron nodded and kept walking, gesturing to grand Kolvir in the distance. "We'll keep at this pace for another half day, perhaps longer if your group can take it, then make camp and rest for a bit."

Was their tail truly gone? He did not doubt Gnecht's skills, or the eyes of his men, but things were too tight in the back of his mind for him to feel sure of their own safety.

He adjusted their course still, keeping to the meadows and grasslands, for now. Eventually though, Arden trumped all, as its massive size was wont to do. The sun soon shone golden through crisp green leaves that first lined the meadow's edge, then closed in upon them.

Once, he called Gnecht to him, just to confirm that he had eyes out, trusting in his outliers to keep them aware. Yet, he had seen how hard Luke had been struck during their travels, and Aaron too did not know whether he could shield all these men himself, even if he was able to form a bridging of his own, perhaps using Ilse as a medium. He pushed the idea into the back of his mind, for later consideration, pushing forwards and into Arden proper once more.

Gnecht confirms that if the force is still being followed, then he isn't aware of it.  In the open terrain he had spread the men out a little in an effort to see if there were any enemy troops about, but they had reported no such troops nearby.

"Either they's better at hunting than we is, which is being possible, since we's not got a proper look at one of the buggers, or they's gived up." he opines, "Either way, we looks clear of them for now."

The warriors pull in closer again as the forest closes in on each side, and Crethe moves up alongside Aaron.  "I see Kolvir, Aaron, but beyond that I have no idea where we are.  I thought I knew my way around this area, but I suppose I've never been to this part before.  It's a big forest after all."

Back among the trees again, and Aaron keeps moving onward.  Until Gnecht suddenly growls, "Something's ahead, Sir."

The something comes out from the forest.  Scaled, horned and barbed, wearing a simple leather harness, and with the hilt of a sword jutting above its shoulder.  In an eyeblink it blurs, and is gone.

And back an instant later, accompanied by four more of its kind, and a human male, bearded and with grey streaks in his red hair.  The slit pupils of the man's eyes regard Aaron, as his face splits into a broad grin.

"Aaron!  Long time, no see, man.  How's it going?"

Looking somewhat older than when the two had last met, Jonnee Kay strides forward, a hand outstretched in greeting.

The dark man froze; not like a person, but like a statue.  When he ceaded to move, all movement ended.  Even breathing.

After a long moment of listening, he judged himself still too far to understand.  He could, of course, reach out with his mind, but that would defeat the purpose of his alterations to the world about him.  He could slip through the Underflow, but that might alert whomever awaits.

Better to do this the old fashioned way, he decided.

Luke scanned the trail before him, then continued at a slower, silent pace, his mind seizing control of the world close to him, shunting any tiny noises elsewhen.  In two days, that the sound of a twig snapping might disturb the birds.  Four hours ago, the scuff of a footfall might have been heard.  He kept to cover, using his mundane eyes to probe the woods ahead, always on the watch for motion or something out of place.

Luke moves forward, expending considerable effort in not being detected.  Before too long he finds himself looking at a camp ground, but still undiscovered.  The occupants, and by his estimate there are at least a thousand of them, look very much like those Aaron's scout had described - large and heavy-set, with horns, and skin covered with fine blue scales.

There are other details that the scout had neglected to mention.  Every one of them has numerous scars, laid out in intricate patterns of interlocking spirals across its bare chest.  Possibly self-inflicted and clearly not the result of random injuries.

Their faces and arms bear the marks of hot iron.  All of them have been branded, and again the marks do not appear random.

For an army in enemy territory, they don't seem to be making any effort to conceal their presence.  They're almost noisy, in fact.  As if they have no fear of being discovered.  As Luke watches a brawl erupts, amid much cheering and yelling.  It's over in moments, with one of the combatants down, and the other, barely able to stand due to its injuries, but still with enough strength to scream in triumph, its voice echoing through the forest.

Either they have supreme confidence in their ability to defeat any foe, or they're deliberately trying to attract enemy forces.  Neither possibility is encouraging.  From the look of the fight, they're definitely berserkers...

Aaron raised a fist to halt the troupe when the first being appeared, surprised at its sudden speed. Then...

He paused, his focused countenance splitting into a grin to match that of his old comrade. "Jonnee Kay, as I breathe!" He laughed, reaching out to clasp the man's wrist in his hand, grasping his shoulder with the other.

He turned, gesturing to Gnecht and Crethe to approach. To Gnecht he said. "Tell your men there's no danger, here, but to find a spot to rest for a while. After that, join us. I would have you in council."

He turned to Crethe, then. "This is Jonnee Kay, a member of our group of World Walkers, and a man I trust implicitly." He turned to Jonnee, introducing Crethe to him. "My, it is good to see you! What brings you this deep into Arden?"

Jonnee nods at Aaron's companions, before Gnecht moves off to have his troops stand down.

"Took us a while to get here, but I've brought an army to defend Amber.  Brintizzi mostly, plus a few others that we met on the road.  The others don't move as quick as me and the Brints, so they slowed us down a little, but I though the extra manpower would come in handy.  We arrived here yesterday and I was looking for somebody, anybody, that I could report to and get a sit-rep.  I guess that'd be you."

He takes a crystal tipped metal rod from the Brintizzi who stands closest, "We still have these ray guns, and if the Archies had a butt, we'd be kicking it.  Every time we've run into them on the way here, these things have burned them down."

Handing it back to the Brintizzi, he continues, "Brints thought they were dishonourable at first - you know how they like to get up close and personal - but I talked them round."

So, what's been happening here?  The others with you?"

Interesting, Luke considered.

This doesn't seem like the group that had assaulted his mind, and certainly not a hive mind, but appearances could deceive.  Oh, he well knew that.  Or perhaps the group was under the command of said hive-mind, which at the moment had better thins to do than prevent its shock troops from fighting amongst themselves for amusement.

Or, trap.

"Always a possibility," he muttered.

Skulking didn't suit him, no matter what literature claimed.  Luke had to fight the urge to simply walk up and demand an explanation.  Better he watch for a long moment.  Better he try to determine if they were...they were under some kind of leadership that at the moment...at the moment...

"Hang it all," he grumbled, pushing himself up to his feet.  "Chances need to be taken.  I could wander around the periphery of this forever, and still be 'investigating' when Aaron returns.  With nothing to give him."

And he strongly doubted any hive-mind, guiding force would simply allow their army to sit here, fighting among themselves.  Possible?  Certainly.  Likely, considering the differing psychologies?

"Predictions often fail," Luke muttered, striding toward the camp.  "Too easy to see everything from one's own point of view, and thus view the world through blinders."

Even so, sometimes they were all one had to use.

Luke walks into the camp and finds that his concealment holds.  Even so he gets the impression that a number of these creatures might sense him as he gets close.  Some of them seem to stare at him directly, or cock their head in his direction.

More than one asks his companions if they heard a noise, or smelled something.  But none seem to be able to pinpoint his location.  One does, however, grab a spear and hurl it uncomfortably close to the man.

After a few minutes of this, he spots one of Amber's scouts being dragged into the camp.  The unfortunate man is immediately surrounded by a hostile crowd, but not for long.  A voice bellows, "Take the prisoner to Stashil and be quick!  He'll skin you all if this human dies before he gets the chance to question it!"

The crowd disperses, two of them dragging the scout away.  The one who had shouted, a particularly hideous and burly specimen, stands and sniffs the air before peering about suspiciously...

Stashil.

Could be an Archon, Luke mused.  Many Archons had names he recognized.  He wondered if he'd meet one using his own, at some point. Congruency, he thought.

Best not to let that man fall into the enemy's hands.  On the other side of it, this certainly gave him an opportunity to ferret out more information.  He knows this group has sharp senses - hearing, smell, at the least - if they can pick up on his presence.  Frowning, he considered shifting the sounds and scents 'further' from him, but eventually decided against it.  Too much monkeying around with time and someone was sure to notice.

That thrown spear had been quite a surprised.  Reactionary creatures, they were.

He can't stick around, or this one, this...leader, Luke supposed, will find him.  He could try reading the creature's thoughts, but holding up the concealment might be difficult.  Better to just follow.

Taking a wide circle around the one giving the orders, he set off after the troops and their captives.  A rescue?  Perhaps.  Certainly some intelligence gathering.

The captured scout is dragged through the camp, towards a larger tent at its heart.  As he reaches it, he is forced to his knees, and one of his escorts steps forward to stand before the opening (which is closed).  "Commander?  We have brought a prisoner for your attention."

The opening is pushed aside, and a human male, or almost human, steps out, followed by a second.  The first man wears ornate mail of plate and chain, lacquered in red and black.  A two-handed sword is strapped diagonally across his back, and a bandolier supports several assorted knives across his chest.  His skin is reddish, and there are two short horns projecting from his curly black hair, above his brow.

His face is thin and skull-like, with sunken eyes and hollow cheeks, and an immaculately trimmed goatee.

The second man is similar in appearance, though with a full beard rather than a goattee, and clad in a flowing gown which leaves his chest, and the intricate tattoos thereon, exposed.  He sneers at the scout, "I suppose you plan to torture him for information, Hilatavichus?  How often must I tell you that my methods will give faster results."

"Faster results, and less pleasure Igronitiandach.  Now be silent, or leave."  The mailed man gestures to the escorts, "Take him inside and see that he is bound."
This message was last edited by the GM at 13:09, Sun 08 June 2014.

Well, THIS was interesting.

Luke ghosted up to the tent, beside the door, watching and waiting.  He'd get more information from this lot, the dark man suspected.  And if they lacked the senses of the others, far better, though he'd have to stay alert.  It could be a trap.  They might have already noticed him.  They could have sorcerous wards, or access to a Greater Power.

Focusing, he studied the tent itself for a long moment, seeking traces of any Greater Power.

There would come a moment where the tent flap opens for the passage of several people.  All-too-easy for him to slip inside.  Chances, Luke thought to himself, remembering his friend.

I hope you're well, Chance, wherever you are.

Then, the moment he could, he slipped inside with the others.

The scout is brought inside, and Luke follows.  The interior of the tent is moderately well appointed, with all the things that one might expect a high-ranking commander to have with him on campaign.  Rugs, a brazier filled with glowing coals, a desk, a simple, but comfortable looking bed, several wooden stools, a rack for storage of arms and armour.

In the centre is one curious thing though.  A wooden board, four or five inches thick and about the size of a door, lays on the ground.  Two upright metal posts, about seven feet high and three inches in diameter, are bolted to the board, close to each end.  Sturdy chains, with attached manacles, are secured to the upper and lower end of each post.

The scout is marched across to the board, and placedd between the posts, with manacles secured at his wrists and ankles.  Because of the length of the chains, his arms and legs are held out at a most uncomfortable angle.

The escorts leave, and Hilatavichus moves the brazier closer to the captive scout, followed by a small table, which he positions where the man can see it, before retrieving a leather bound wooden case and placing it on the table.  Opened, the case contains an assortment of  knives, hooks and... less easily identified things,

"And now I think I'll call for some food, while our guest considers the instruments before him.  Will you join me?"

"No, thank you.  I have a rite to administer shortly."
This message was last edited by the GM at 13:10, Sun 08 June 2014.

Aaron shook his head at Jonee's mention of 'others'. "No, of the core group, none but myself are part of my force, here. Luke remains behind me, back at the position from whence I delivered these men." he shrugged. "Luke's not one for company, mostly. He stayed behind to spy on a force we learned was arrayed near us at the time. I only hope he hasn't dug himself into worse trouble."

He eyed the weapon Jonnee presented with a curious eye. The progress of war continued apace, it seemed. He pointed a thumb back in the direction his force had come.

"Luke, Crethe and myself happened upon Gnecht and his forces, staying put to tend to their wounds. I was on my way back to my original post, to reinforce, get an update on combat by the Scar in Arden proper and get these men some rest." He smiled, the expression pulling the scars on his face this way and that. "But it looks like you brought the reinforcements yourself. Perhaps I'll drop these few off at your main force for tending."

The Brintizzi were a formidable group of people, one Aaron considered he'd have to study under when he had a chance. "I don't know your plans, but I'm certain Luke could use backup. However," he paced, getting closer to Jonnee. "Last I recall, we were being followed. I don't know if it was one of your rangers moving ahead of your force or not, but we've been shadowed since I pulled this group through the Worlds. Did you encounter anyone other than the usual on your way here?"

"No, nothing out of the ordinary.  Of course with what I've seen since I was tattooed and started crossing Shadow, 'ordinary' is relative.  And it was probably one of my scouts you saw.  They brought me word that you were around, but they didn't know who you were.  That's why I was out here, to see who was walking about this close to my army."

Jonnee thinks for a few moments, "You're welcome to drop your men off at my camp, it's only a couple of miles or so... "  He considers, briefly, then points, "... that way.  I got a few people who can stand in for medics, and do a decent job of it."

"After that, we can go drag Luke's ass out of whatever fire he's walked into.  It'll be like old times again, only with more grey hair."

Aaron's relief was palpable, the set of his shoulders dropping as he visibly relaxed at Jonnee's confirmation. "That's good to hear. Give me a few moments and I'll get things set up on my end. These guys need a break." He clapped Jonnee on the shoulder and turned, catching Gnecht eventually and updating him on the situation.

"I'm going to take the wounded further on, to the depths of the main force, so they can be given medical attention. Any others who just want a bit of rest can come as well, but I'd rather trust your judgement regarding who's moving on with us into the battle ahead. After I drop off your wounded, the rest of your cadre and myself are going to hook up with Jonnee Kay's force and take it to the enemy. Sound good?"

He waved Crethe over. "You're coming with me also, obviously. I'm going to get you properly outfitted. I want you at my left hand." He frowned for a moment, wondering how long it would be before he'd be able to meet both of her eyes, recalling an old darkness of his own, when his vision was very one-sided, in more ways than he could list. "Let me know if you can think of anything you'd prefer as far as equipment. I can... acquire most anything you'd need."

Yes, you go ahead and start up that rite, Luke considers.  He'll need to watch it, himself.  Get an idea of what the being intends.  Could actually go with leaving the soldier here to subvert the rite, but...Aaron probably wouldn't like that.  The soldier certainly wouldn't.

Oh, why not try being the better man for a change?

So now it's time to wait for that food to be called, seeing as the torment hasn't yet begun.  Luke wants no more than three people in the tent to affect a rescue, given his lack of knowledge of these beings' capabilities - two of said people himself and the captive.

Hilatavichus leaves the tent, and his voice can be heard outside, speaking to another man, though the words are indistinct.  A moment later he returns, scowling.  "Damned venison again.  I'd give my soul for a bit of roast pork."

"You should not joke about such things, Hilatavichus."

"Oh, believe me... I never joke about a good meal, brother.  I grow sick of venison."

It's Igronitiandach's turn to scowl, he starts towards the exit, "I have duties of my own to attend.  If I see the cook, I'll ask him to put some extra venison on your platter, shall I?"  And then he's gone, without waiting for an answer.

The commander pours some wine, shaking his head and smiling to himself...
This message was last edited by the GM at 13:11, Sun 08 June 2014.

"You're in command here, Aaron.  I'll let my people know what's happening, so there won't be any misunderstandings."  Jonnee turns away and gives a long, low whistle.  There is a blur of movement, and two of the Brintizzi are standing before him.  They've changed since Aaron first saw them.  Their scales are daubed with patches of coloured pigment, in shades of green, brown and black, and a number of the overlapping scales around the neck have had small holes drilled through them near the tips.  Lengths of copper and silver wire have been looped through them, and support a variety of beads and feathers.

Jonnee engages them in a conversation in a language that hovers on the edge of Aaron's understanding...  Some instructions for the people at his camp, and something about injured troops.

Gnecht nods to confirm that he comprehends Aaron's instructions, "Understood Sir.  Likely half my boys's fit enough to fight, but like as not three-fourths'll claim to be.  I'll see to it as the fit ones's is cut out from the keen ones."

Crethe tilts her head to one side and gives Aaron a smile, "You speak as if you believe you have any say in the matter.  You could not stop me if I chose to follow you, which I do.  You may command these troops, but you do not command me."

"As for gear... I have my blade, but I'd be happier with a mail shirt and a steel cap to go with it.  Nothing heavier though."

Jonnee turns back, and the Brintizzi blur away into the forest...

Certainly things just got a whole lot easier.  Hopefully.  Luke couldn't be 100% sure, of course, and was still taking a chance, but this certainly could work for him.  He'd need to snag the sorcerer, as well, but starting with the prisoner would be best he figured.  Of course, he could only carry one person at a time, and would also need to assist the prisoner.

That meant this fellow had become superfluous, which suited the dark man just fine.

He waited until the man took a sip of his wine, then stepped up and stabbed him through the neck with one of his own torture knives, viciously wrenching it to sever the windpipe.  The...creature...might not carry its veins and arteries in the same place, but at the least this would prevent it from calling out.

Hilatavichus gives a gasp of surprise, and then falls like a sack of potatoes to lay motionless on the ground in a spreading pool of (presumably) blood - though the yellowish colour makes that uncertain.

Which leaves a concealed Luke alone with a confused looking prisoner.
This message was last edited by the GM at 13:12, Sun 08 June 2014.

"Test complete," Luke muttered.  With a wave of his hand, he froze the blood solid; the creatures around here had some kind of enhanced senses, and he'd rather they not pick up that there had been copious spillage. "At least I know they die just as easily as anything else."

It had been a concern.

Quick steps brought him over to the prisoner, and Luke took the man's arm, including him in his own concealment.  This required effort, but he was fairly certain to be up to the task.  "Quiet," the dark man cautioned.  "I'm sure you've figured out by now this is a rescue."

Pausing, he glanced back at the body on the floor.  Then, after a moment's consideration, included the fluids within the corpse with the freezing process.  Better to make sure it didn't get up again, for whatever reason.

Afer that, it was a matter of working on the man's bonds.

The prisoner regards the corpse on the floor with something that looks a lot lome shock.  He remains silent as Luke releases him, then staggers over and kicks the fallen man, hard, between the legs.  "Huh!  Dead...  Damn!" he grunts, with a frown.

Then he turns back to Luke, hissing, "Not wanting to seem ungrateful, lad, but where in the name of all that's holy did you spring from?"  Without waiting for a reply, he moves across to the desk and starts sorting through the papers scattered across the surface.  Occasionally picking one up and turning it to get better light as he squints at it.

The documents start to form into two distinct groups...  "Might be able to salvage something."

Jonnee's camp is more like a small city of tents, in a steep-sided valley.  The army is well disciplined, and quiet.  Mostly Brintizzi, but with a fair mix of other peoples mingled in with them.  Aaron watches as Crethe puts on a mail shirt and adjusts the straps until it sits more comfortably.

"Not a bad fit, considering."  She places a cap on her head, steel covered with green-dyed leather.  "Not exactly the made-to-measure armour I used to wear on ceremonial occasions.  But that was designed to turn heads, not blades."

"This'll do."
This message was last edited by the GM at 14:35, Sun 06 Apr 2014.

"Lad."  Luke chuckled.  "I've ways to walk unseen," he continued.  "It'll help getting us out of here, and back to your people.  But I've a ritual to check on first, and you...apparently have papers."  One eyebrow cocked.  The man was a professional, given his composure, so it was pointless getting into an argument over the value of the information versus the amount of time they had.

It was important.  Period.

On the other hand, it would be good to know the specifics. "Talk while you work.  What is so critical about these papers?"

"They're my one chance of salvaging something from this mess.  I was supposed to find out what plan our friend there was working to.  Pick his mind apart while he questioned me.  Now I'll just have to make do with whatever he had written down."

The former prisoner almost seems irritated at having been rescued, as if it were a minor inconvenience to be worked around.

"I don't know your name, but I've seen you with the other agents - the woman with the lizard and Bleys' man - so since they're apparently trusted, I suppose you are as well.  Ah... here we are."  He picks up one of the papers, and compares it to two others.  From Luke's perspective, they appear to be two roughly drawn maps and a list of some kind.

"I seem to have erred," Luke muttered, dryly.  Far from being annoyed with the man's attitude, his irritation was with himself.  "Should have tried a mind-dive myself, but didn't want to chance entering a mental war in the middle of an enemy camp.  Blast."

His eyebrow cocked.  "'With the other agents'.  Curious choice of words.  Revealing one, in fact.  I wouldn't happen to be in the presence of royalty, would I?  Please don't prevaricate - it makes working together if we have some idea of each other's capabilities."

He paused. "So, that's one reason she does that all the time," Luke muttered after a moment's thought, before continuing.  "In any case, if we do work together here, we might be able to salvage even more.  Like, snagging that other fellow and getting the information out of him."

"Royalty?  No.  But I work for them though.  One of them, at the very least.  Don't ask which one because I won't tell you, and I have the means to defend myself if anybody tries to find out."  He sorts through the papers once again and adds another to the three he has already chosen.

"If the priest has the information, he might prove useful, yes.  I suspect that their more bestial form marks the troops as little more than slaves, with the more human looking officer and the priest their masters."

"The papers give locations that will be attacked, but they don't say when.  If you have a plan for finding and questioning the priest... what was his name?  Igronitiandach?  I'm all ears."

"I don't give a damn which one," Luke snapped. "Capabilities, remember?  I'm more interested in hows and whats than whos and whys.  If you're not royalty, it means you don't have their capacities.  Aside from a quick mind and some obvious skill, what have you got in your 'means to defend'?"

He crouched down next to the body, studying it, absorbing its signature.  "Every world leaves a mark, as does growth and change," Luke murmured. "This one and the priest come from the same stock.  In a camp full of lesser beings, it shouldn't be hard to find him.  And I'll get us there the same way I got myself here - quietly."  He shot a glance at the other man.  "Quiet seems something you're good at, so no problem there.  Also, I'm disinterested in playing the 'your name first!' game; these days, I go by Luke."

"Luke it is.  I'm Talbot."

The agent, whoever he works for, grins at Luke.  "I'm not from Amber, and I have certain abilities that Amberites tend not to possess."  He holds out a hand towards the other man, and the skin grows hairier as the hand takes on a distinctly paw-like appearance.

"And the changes aren't just on the outside."  The other hand, the untransformed one, comes up, and he taps one finger against the side of his skull.  "What's in my skull stays there until I decide it's time to let it out.  That goes for my own secrets, and those I learn from others.  Nobody but me can fetch them out again."

"Lead on, Luke.  Let's find the priest."

"All right, Talbot."  Luke briefly considered going with 'Laurence', then dropped the idea.  "That's fair enough, and a useful set of talents you've got.  If you can do anything beyond going wolf, I suggest cutting down on your scent.  And try to stay as quiet as possible.  I'm not exactly at my best these days, and shrouding two people isn't my usual Em-Oh."

"These things have top-notch senses and hair-trigger aggression; if they pick up on anything, they might throw something at it.  I can't cover you if you eat a spear and start bubbling blood everywhere."  Reaching out with his mind, he sought out the specific signature of the priest, something similar to that of the interrogator rather than the other beings in the camp.

Once he located his quarry, Luke spun the same web of non-sight and muffling about both himself and Talbot, leaving them free to see each other.  More dimly, of course, but still possible.  "Here we go," he muttered.

Aaron chuckled. "Well, I've found that utility tends to trump fashion when it comes to war. Still, I've certainly seen my share of the opposite, on occasion. Why, I seem to remember a commander who dressed in jet and gold..." he trailed off. "Too gaudy for me."

"Alright," he said, once Crethe was settled and he found himself suitably prepared. "Time to gather the rest of the troops together and get moving. Best not to keep Luke waiting."

Talbot chuckles, "I have a few more tricks up my sleeve."  The paw sprouts feathers, then scales, and then something that looks like leaves.  "I'll see what I can manage."  Leaves start to appear on the other hand, and his neck, before spreading to his face.

And the air in the tent starts to smell of growing things...

Within a couple of minutes th transformation is complete, and the two leave the commander's tent, shrouded by Luke's web of invisibility.

And find the camp oddly quiet.  Most of the enemy seem to be drifting across to one end of the clearing.  Unfortunately Luke's senses tell him that the priest is over that way too...

Aaron quickly discovers that the troops are already gathering.  Jonnee waves an arm towards them, "Word got around, and some of the Brints were getting bored, so they asked permission to volunteer.  I told them they can volunteer if they like.  You know what they're like Aaron?  All tied up in honour and fighting fair, but they won't let you down, and the tougher the enemy, the happier they are.  Of course, once they started talking about volunteering, so did some of the others."

"So you have a few hundred troops there, and I'll volunteer too, if you'll have me.  Just take your pick.  Take them all with you, if you want."

"Neat trick," Luke mused, honestly. "And good use of it...that'll help no end.  It'd cover up my own scent...if I had any."  He doesn't right now.  Scent was something that, for Luke, happened to be a choice.

Once out of the tent, he frowned in concentration.  "This could get tricky." Luke pointed, whispering. "Priest that way.  Everyone going...that way.  Let's keep going."  Shaking his head in disbelief - Why me? - he continued in that direction, avoiding heavier concentrations of their enemeies.

Perhaps, Luke pondered, it might be time for a smiting.  Old-school, he considered.  Real fire and brimstone.

Like father, like son, he supposed.

Luke and Talbot make their way across the camp and find themselves at one edge of a large open area.  Most of the troops are there, apart from stragglers still drifting in.

At the far end is a platform, standing head high for a man, a little less for these troops.  Igronitiandach is there, looking out over the gathering crowd, hands folded in front of him.  Behind him are a handful of humans, the quality of their clothing indicating that they are officers.

And an Archon.

At least it looks like an Archon, a danioti, until Luke realises that it isn't spinning.  And that it's made of copper.  It stands upon a metal frame, behind Igronitiandach.

"Looks to me like we've got a bit of a cult," Luke mused. "They're worshipping it, you think?"  His eyes narrowed.  "I'm going to let you in on a little secret.  Somewhere around here, there's a very, very powerful mind or group of minds, operating in parallel.  Also, we've both heard the name of what I think is an Archon - Stashil."

Still watching the growing crowd, he continued to murmur.  "The thing is, I'm not sure I'm up to taking on this group-mind.  In fact, I KNOW I'm not.  An Archon...that's a different matter.  But not many of them.  So I hope you're quick on your feet, as well."

Talbot studies the faux Archon, "That's what the enemy commanders look like?  I've heard descriptions, but I've never seen one.  I can be fast, if you need it.  But if I have to fight something like that I need to know something about them."

"Do they have any weaknesses or vulnerable spots?"

He edges a little to one side, and a couple of yards closer, "All very well my fighting one, but if I don't know where to hit it, it won't do much good."

"Or did you have something else in mind?  Running perhaps?"

Igronitiandach starts to speak.  "My brothers, Stashil, messenger of the true gods, has spoken to me this very morning.  He says that the gods have promised victory.  Tomorrow we will march on Amber, and an army of ängels with us.  Amber will fall within a matter of days, and its power will be broken!"

Further speech becomes impossible, as the crowd errupts in a chorus of whoops and hoots...

"Devil take it," Luke ground out, then grinned at the irony.  "Those things are vulnerable to anything that affects metals, or something that stops their movement," he mused.  "I've seen them bore through solid rock, so they're pretty tough as well.  Then there are some made of fire, or lightning...there's ice as well, but we shouldn't be facing any of those here, they're on our side."

"But this means they're moving on Amber with Archons this time.  In force.  I've seen that, and it was hell winning against them, even with other Archons helping us.  I hope your bosses are really on the ball, and they're going to need warning.  So yes, running sounds good right about now."

He snorted a laugh.  "Too damn bad they're also fast as...hell."  More irony, but no time to recognize it. "We have to get back to Aaron, and then to Amber.  They need to hear about this.  Now."

Talbot turns his head to regard Luke, his neck creaking like a tree in a steady breeze.  "I have enough information, between the documents and what we've heard here, to enter a worthwhile report."

"By all means, let us away from here, before our friends discover our presence."

He starts to pass Luke, apparently heading for the edge of the crowd...

"Let's go, then," Luke murmured, slipping after Talbot on his way to the edge of the crowd.  This, he knew, was when everyone would somehow figure out they're there, they've been listening, and now they were leaving.  Perfect time for it, really.  Alternately, a perfect time for betrayal.  But one had to start trusting somewhere.  And speaking of which...

Aaron, where are you?

He'd better not be gadding about with his new sweetheart, Luke decided, or there would be hell to pay.

At that precise moment Aaron is, in fact, gadding about with his new sweetheart.  If one's definition of "gadding about" includes the leading of a sizeable contingent of warriors towards an enemy camp.  He's still some miles away, but he is, at least, going in the right direction...

Luke's supposition that they are about to be discovered, or betrayed, seems groundless.  He and Talbot make it to the edge of the crowd.  Just a small strip of open ground to cross, until they reach the edge of the forest...

And something comes out from the trees, about fifty yards to their left.  A roiling mass of squamous tentacles and foul black smoke, emitting a strange piping cry, underscored by a continual buzzing, like a swarm of angry hornets.  It does not turn in their direction, but pushes into the gathered congregation, who move aside to let it pass, moving on towards the platform and Igronitiandach.

"Stashil!  Messenger of the gods.  You honour us with your presence."

And it occurs to Luke that this might be the creature that had stunned him earlier, on the trail.  Certainly he is developing a most unpleasant headache...

"Now," Luke muttered, "now we have a problem.  And we're leaving.  Immediately."  He focused further on his mental defenses, edging into 'Not Here' territory rather than 'Can't Get In'.  "I think I know what that thing is - on more than one level - and we're not up for taking it on alone.  Let's go."

Carefully keeping up the shrouding overtop of himself and Talbot, Luke continued moving back from the group.  Recon was a good thing, if it didn't get the scouts killed, and sticking around to hear Stashil's announcements seemed to be a good path to the latter.  Besides which....

"I think it's a hunter."  His grin was mirthless and merciless. "Made from their 'General' to kill their 'General'.  And that means it might just be able to find us."

Stashil pauses, and the piping sound drop in pitch.  "There is something... " the terrible creature roars, and its voice is familiar to Luke.  Like Cyan's voice, if Cyan were screaming in pain.

"No... it was here, but is gone.  Has there been a stranger here?"

"Mighty Stashil, the Commander, your servant, has been interrogating a prisoner.  Could it be his presence you sense?"

"His presence?  Unlikely, but possible."  It starts to glide back from the stage, tentacles writhing, and oily black smoke seeping from its skin, "I will speak to the Commander."

Luke and Talbot don't wait to discover if it goes directly to the tent where Talbot had been tortured.  They duck directly into the forest, and don't stop.

"Luke, where are we going?  If your friend comes looking for us, he'll run straight into that thing.  We need to warn him."

"Yes, that would be a hunter," Luke grated out, wincing slightly. "It's probably even more sensitive to me, curse it all."  He slipped into the forest and started to jog.  "We're getting out of here, and fast.  The problem is, those cursed things can supposedly track people even through the Myriad Worlds.  I'm just buying time to think."

The muscles of his jaw tightened.  "They'll be after Aaron as well.  You're right - we need to let him know what's up and heading his way.  He'll be so overjoyed to see a piece of Cyan like that.  Talbot, I think I can take us directly to Aaron, but I have a sneaking suspicion that doing so will draw that beast along.  If that happens, you'll have to run."

He slowed to a stop, looking around.  "Because I don't know if there's a hell of beans you'll be able to do against it, and your people need to know."  His lips twisted into a lopsided smile.  "This could be unpleasant.  Your choice - come with me, or keep running and hope."

With that, Luke began reaching out for Aaron.  He wasn't his father, no indeed, but he had plenty of experience finding these particular people throughout the Myriad Worlds.

And there he is.  Aaron.  Fortunately Luke has a good idea of the direction Aaron would be coming from, and had been able to focus his attention in that direction, and away from Harbonah's hound.  Which could very well be the thing which had struck at his mind earlier.

So now he can feel Aaron's presence, and the enemy is not alerted to his own, at least as far as he knows...

The shriek of rage that rolls across the forest from somewhere behind him might be proof that he's wrong.  Or it just mean that the hound has been unable to find the commander...

"We're moving now!" Luke snapped in the wake of that howl. "Take hold of my hand, Talbot - this will be somewhat difficult, but I can manage."  He thought.  Luke hadn't tried to drag anyone with him through the Underflow like his father did, but believed it well within his capacity.

Self-confidence had never been lacking in the dark man.

Time grew strange.  The world blurred.  And Luke fell away, out of reality for an instant as he shifted, a multitude of burning wings opening around him, a thousand burning eyes on each.

OOC - Transporting Talbot and myself directly to Aaron.  But not right in front of him, as I don't want to get stabbed.

Aaron cocks his head to one side and listens.  There is an odd vibration in the air, like a swarm of bees buzzing quietly, and in harmony.  It buids up for a few seconds, allowing him to trace the source, and turn towards it...

And there is a loud popping sound, as Luke appears about five yards away, with another man clinging to his arm.  The stranger is sweating profusely, and pale of face.  "I... I'd really rather not do that again." he says, and falls to sit on the ground, where he leans to one side and throws up.

Crethe favours Luke with a smile, "The company you're keeping lately seems less... cultured."

"That was less than stellar," Luke muttered, stepping quickly away from Talbot.  "Only for emergencies, Talbot - my apologies for the rough ride.  Normally I do that kind of trip alone.  Your presence caused some unbalance, and we ended up oscillating  between temporal planes."  He shook his hand and for an instant it blurred, leaving visible afterimages, then snapped 'back' into its proper solidity.

"Better."

He cocked an eyebrow at Crethe.  "Whereas yours runs about the same...be nice, he's been through a lot.  Aaron, we have a rather large, ugly problem heading our way.  Specifically our way.  It seems that when Cyan was captured, Harbonah used some of her essence to create hunters - hunters keyed to her, and to us, and supposedly powerful enough to give us serious trouble."

His smile was thin. "That thing that assaulted my mind recently, that was one of them.  I'm fairly sure it can and will track you."

Aaron gives Luke and the stranger a curious look.  "Then we'd probably do best to give it a wide berth.  Is there a reason why your new friend keeps doing that?"

On the ground, Talbot is shifting constantly, his skin flickering from scales, to feathers, to bark, to fur, and back again, while horns and antlers come and go on his brow.

"I'll be all... " he vomits again... "Oh, gods!  I'll be all right.  Just... just not used to his tricks."

"Interesting." Aaron comments, before speaking louder, addressing the troops.  "This is the man we were going to help." he gestures towards Luke.  "Obviously he's managed to get himself out of trouble, so we don't need to save him just now.  So we're heading back to camp, by the fastest route possible."

Talbot clambers to his feet, swaying, "I hope that doesn't mean more of the same."

There is a movement, and Jonnee is standing at Aaron's left shoulder, "Hello Luke.  Long time, no see, buddy."

"He'll be fine," Luke muttered.  "Just...mind your shoes."  Once Aaron turned away and Talbot finished his up-chucking, the dark man reached down and quite easily pulled the shifter to his feet.  "Up you get.  It'll all pass soon."  In truth, he didn't at all know it would, but assumed a shapeshifter merely needed a little positive reinforcement to get his body back under control.

"'Tricks'." Luke snorted.  "I'm not a street-corner magician, Talbot.  But don't worry.  I can't drag Aaron, you, and all of these people together, and besides..."

Enter Puck, blades on-hand.

"...some of them don't need me to be quick."

He eyed the shorter, flame-haired man. "Same to you, Jonnee Kay, though from the lines around your eyes it's been longer your way than mine." He couldn't help but smile; it was easy to see why Cyan liked this man.  "Glad to see you haven't joined Aaron in the Missing Body Parts support group." 

"Oh, I considered it, but then I figureded that the cool factor didn't outweigh the pain.  Besides, there was no way I could catch up with Aaron, so I just got some new ink instead."

Jonnee reaches out a hand and taps Aaron on the shoulder.  "Fastest way back would be my way.  I've been there before, so I can find the path easy enough."

With a bow of the head, Aaron gestures for Jonnee to do it, "Lead away."

The red haired man starts to walk, quick and confident, and the rest hurry to keep up.  At a command from Jonnee, a number of the brintizzi break away, spreading out into the forest, and are soon lost from sight.  "They'll catch up later.  But, for now, they'll make sure we aren't tailed."

The traversal of Arden is fast, and leaves little trace of their passing, considering the number of people involved...

As the returned troops disperse out into the camp, Jonnee calls a meeting, with Aaron, Luke, Crethe and Talbot.  "I'm thinking we should head for Amber, fast as we can.  If this thing Luke talked about can follow us, then I reckon we need to be in the city, if not the palace.  Lots of men about, with pointy bits of metal.  And it gives us a chance to report this new stuff.  What about the rest of you?"

More tattoos...just what Jonnee needed.  Luke grunted in amusement at his quip, and aquiesced with a wave of his hand.  No sense in arguing over who got to do what...

...besides which, this way avoided Talbot ruining his shoes.

He glanced back as the brintizzi left - they moved too quickly to be seen with the naked eye, but Luke's mind could trace their paths.  "If the hunter is following us, Jonnee, it'll tear them to pieces.  They'll die before they even know it's there," he muttered.  An unpleasant thought, but something that needed to be said.

Upon arrival, Jonnee offered a plan.  It sounded...sound, so Luke shrugged his agreement.  "One place isn't as good as any, and that one is  better than most.  Amber it is, though I'm none too sanguine about bantering with Princes and Princesses.  If there's any silliness, I'm gone."
The last thing he wanted was one of them probing his mind.

"I can't guarantee that there'll be no silliness."  Jonnee's expression is all deadly seriousness now, "What I can guarantee is the the princes and princesses of Amber will do anything to keep enemies out of their city.  There are traps in place that can force an invader into just the right place to get itself killed.  They've been there a long time, and nothing ever got past them."

"There'll be an army to back up the traps, and the Royal Family to back up the army.  The city is probably the safest place in the universe right now.  You don't have to come with me, but if you do, I don't think you'll be disappointed."

"That's fine," Luke muttered.  "I'm all for being cautious, and I said I was going, right?  I just don't want anyone rummaging around in my mind without a damn good reason - one I don't plan on giving to them."

He paused, considering his next few words with care before finally speaking. "I...value my freedom.  Mental enslavement and violation isn't an improvement over physical or spiritual."

"But lead on, Jonnee."  An expressive wave followed his request.  "I'll meet with your royalty and do my best to use the right fork at dinner."

A broad grin splits the man's face.  "You don't have to meet anybody.  You can stand at the back and avoid attention if you want.  As I remember it, you're pretty good at that.  There's times I'd swear you weren't in the room, and then I'd turn round to find you standing there, about three feet away."

He looks about, assessing the readiness of his own people.  "Ten minutes, then we go."

It's actually a little closer to fifteen minutes later when the army starts to move out.  A number of brintizzi remain behind, hand picked for something that Jonnee refers to as "being generally badass".  "If they can stop this enemy, that's good.  But their main job is just to slow it down.  Buy us some time."

"Amazing, that," Luke muttered, dusting his clothing with the back of his hand. "Very well, I'm along.  For now."

He glanced at the brintizzi sent to be a rearguard.  Hopefully not a last stand, the lean man pondered.  He'd had enough of those; the memory of leaving three of his best to hold the blasted plains against his Father's Host still ached within.  "They do know when to retreat, don't they?" he muttered, then pursed his lips.

"Of course, it'll be too late for that.  If the hunter comes, it'll just annihilate their minds in short order.  And that'll be that." He flicked his hand as if knocking the ash from a cigarette, and a small trail of smoke hung in the air for an instant, along with a curious, sulphurous scent.

"A waste.  I don't like waste, Jonnee Kay."  It could have been a threat.  Delivered in a dull, tired tone, it wasn't.

Jonnee keeps walking as he talks to Luke, "They have their instructions.  It won't be a waste.  I've told them not to get into a fight.  If they see the enemy, they have to retreat, away from us."

"Took me ages to teach them that whole live to fight another day thing."  And some of them still don't get it.  Their honour gets in the way.

He turns a little to his left, "This way.  Don't worry about the brints.  I picked them myself, and they know how to follow orders.  They won't like it, and I'll have to let them take the lead next time there's a fight, but they will do what I told them."

Then he stops for a moment, claps Luke on the shoulder and smiles at him.

"But thanks for worrying about them."

Luke grimaced again, though he didn't shy away from the shoulder clap - his expression was concern, not distaste.  "You're welcome...thing is, it's their minds I'm worried about.  That bloody thing hit me - hard - from outside of sight, and if it can stretch and break my defenses like that, hell if it can just mind-bomb them.  Granted, I was sweeping around myself, so I might have attracted attention, but it still took a shot at me from quite a distance."

He squinted along their backtrail as they picked up moving again.  "But you're the man in the field.  One thing I did learn in the wars I fought was that once you give the general your information, it's up to him to decide what to do with it.  Second-guessing them just makes things go straight down the toilet that much quicker."

"So lead the way, General Kay.  We're in your hands now."

Jonnee does exactly that, following a trail which winds throu Arden and, sometimes, seems to turn back on itself, which brings questions from Crethe, "Are we lost?"

Certainly the detours seem make little sense - walk past on the left of a tree, then double back, and walk past it again on the right.  But slowly the land rises, and more questions as Crethe realises that the sun is moving backwards across the sky, "What's happening?  A few miles back, the sun stood with scarce an hour until sunset, and now it is noon at the latest."

Aaron does his best to explain.  An explanation which talks of endless worlds with tiny differences between them, minor variations in the length of days, and dawn and dusk occurring at different times.

Jonnee tells him to be quiet.  A scout stands beside the man, more or less human, his skin dyed brown with a compound made of nuts and bark, and with leaves and vines woven into his dark hair.  He says something in a hoarse whisper, and Jonnee translates it.

"We have to cross a clearing, and it looks as if there are enemy troops there.  We can't go around because it'll add days onto the journey.  We need to go right through the middle of the camp.  The good news is, they look human."

The scout whispers something.

"Human enough." Jonnee corrects.

Luke just rolled his eyes at the explanation.  "Can't we just get someone to write it down and pass it around?" he muttered.  He silences himself shortly thereafter, before Jonnee has a chance to do so, and waits for the explanation.

"Is this one of those 'teeth six inches long, sorry, sixteen inches' things?" the dark man grumbled, edging forward.  "How many?  I can check them out, unseen - see if I can lay some form of control over them, long enough for us to get through without issue."

He pursed his lips. "Though, the way our luck runs..."

The scout continues his report, answering Luke's questions while Jonnee thanslates his words.

"He reckons they look human, or human enough that he can't tell the difference, so no long fangs,  There are maybe forty or fifty of them in the clearing, but he says that he's sure there are more nearby, patrolling."

A laugh then, "And he reminds me of my own standing order about not tangling with a group until you know if it's in contact with anybody else."

"Then again, I don't usually have anybody about with the sorts of talents that I know you have to hand.  Give it a go, if you want."

"'In contact with anybody else' is something I can deal with as well," Luke muttered.  "Maybe.  Give me a short time, and I'll see if I can settle things here.  If I don't come back in ten minutes or so..."

His grin was reminiscent of knives.  "Find another route, and I'll see you when I see you."

With that, Luke moved away, slowly and carefully.  His spirit reached out, seeking control of the world about himself.  This close to Amber, it wasn't easy, but it wasn't impossible either; he might not have been his father, but he had never been weak.

And his mind reached out, oh-so-carefully, seeking the thoughts and presences of those ahead, along the track the scout had indicated....

There are minds ahead.  Small ones.  No more than merely human, though with difference.  Something else too, and as Luke closes in on the thoughts it becomes clearer.  Familiar... but also different.  For a moment or three he can't quite put his finger on it, and then...

There is a noise which tells him exactly what is there.  Dogs.  Or something close enough.  A baying sound, like that of hounds, but not exactly the same.  Then shouting, and the dogs fall silent.

As he draws nearer, the camp takes shape in his mind's eye.  More or less human occupants, and their guard dogs.  They don't seem particularly dangerous.  No shelters, so probably a very temporary camp - likely just a place where they stopped for a break and something to eat as they moved from one place to another.

Helpful so far, assuming there was nothing hiding amongst the people.  Luke paused a moment, considering his situation.  The dogs, the dogs he could handle.  Easily.  That amount of people?  Shielding the group behind him?  He wasn't Berd (not yet, a small voice considered) - so probably not.

On the other hand, there might be something he could do to make the problem take a nap.

Focusing harder, he reached out with his spirit for a more in-depth delving into these intruders.  From where did they hail?  And, more importantly, how much weight did they hold in reality?  Could he influence them?

OOC - checking just that - can Luke influence these creatures?

Something takes shape in Luke's mind.

Nervousness.  Not too strange, considering they are troops in a combat zone.  What they are worried about, though, is unusual.  The rain.  And the trees.

A vision of "home": cloudless blue sky, so dark that it's almost black at the zenith.  Endless sand and rock beneath, with occasional patches of grass and scrub.  Their thoughts fill Luke's head: Far-far come we, two hundred-days and a half from home.  Strange is this land.  Not pleasant dryness.  Water always, filling each breath.

Indentured soldiers, most likely.  Or flat-out slaves.  Luke's lip curled and his hands clenched into fists.  Freedom.  That had been his goal, oh so long ago.  Freedom from slavery, freedom from jealousy, freedom from loss, that terrible loss when he realized his father loved them more.

People always complained about his pride, but pride hadn't driven him to rebel.

"No death for you, here," he muttered.  Reaching out, he begins the laborious task of settling them to sleep - comfortably.  Were he stronger, more capable (like his father, oh curse his father) he would make the attempt to seek their homeland and send them back.  But now?  It was all he could do to ensure they will not come to blows.

He had no wish to kill these people, if slaves they were.

Gradually, in ones and twos, the troops slow their movement.  They yawn and blink wearily, a man here, another there.  The dog-like animals settle down, dropping to stretch out on the ground.  Eventually there is no sign of life in the camp, save for a thunderous snoring from one of the men, who lays on his back with his mouth wide open.  Weapons lay nearby, forgotten for the moment.

And the thoughts are replaced by dreams.  Visions of faces (family and friends?), of places, and of battles.

Luke realises that he was mistaken.  No slaves these... professional soldiers who miss the barren sands of their home.  The damp coolness, the grass, the trees... all are alien to them, and make them feel uncomfortable.

Closer, and he can see their leathery, wrinkled skin.

"Not local, are they?" Jonnee has come up behind him,  He bends down to pick up a weapon, a straight blade, with a wide, heavy, curved tip, almost like a cross between axe and sword.

"No," Luke replies, almost musing.  "From pretty far out in the worlds - not around here, in any case." He scrubs his face with one hand for a moment.  "I hate wars," the dark man muttered.  "Stupid, stupid waste."

A gesture followed, out and over the unconscious men.  "I thought they might be slaves, but they're not.  They're...mercenaries?  Or just soldiers brought here by whatever rules them.  Still, I'd rather not kill them."  He pondered the weapons. "Destroying their gear would get them killed.  Probably by their own lord - they've been brought all this way, they still need to be fed...it's a drain.  Killing them would remove that issue."

One eyebrow rose.  "I guess we...walk on by."

"Never thought of Archons being the sort to take care of their armies.  Always thought they let them fend for themselves." Jonnee says with a low chuckle, "But you're probably right.  Better to let them take up time and resources, for now at least.  I'll put in a report when we get to the city, and one of the Family can decide what to do about them."

"Jov'nak." a blur of movement, and one of the Brintizzi is standing next to Jonnee.  "Tell the army to move up.  We go round the edge of the camp, that way, and back into the woods there.  Leave them all sleeping.  Clear?  No killing."

The reptilian warrior is gone...

The two men start to work their way towards the path back into the forest, and before they've gone half way, Brintizzi scouts are passing them at speed.  One of them stops, briefly, and speaks to Jonnee.

"Rest of the army is about 200 yards behind, and know what to do when they get here.  Even the Lekmui will behave.  They won't like passing enemy troops without a slaughter, but they'll obey orders."

"Maybe they let them fend for themselves, but the armies have commanders, and the commanders answer to the Archons."  Luke shook his head.  "Too much pressure, and it'll be easier for them to just march them into a suicide situation than keep caring for them, I expect."

He shot a quick look at James.  "Glad you've made that clear to your Lekmui.  Whatever that is.  Care to give an explanation?"  Politeness.  As his father's daughter would no doubt say, it cost nothing.  Made more allies than Luke explaining exactly what he'd do if he found out they'd decided to massacre these troups while they slept.

Maybe you could teach an old dog new tricks, he mused.

"Much further?  Or are we almost home?"  His senses reached out ahead, seeking more issues; if there was a camp, there could be scouts, as well.

Jonnee chuckles, "The Lekmui are... almost like you, or me, or Cyan, or James.  At least physically.  There are differences.  They don't have these."  Twin blades of bone slide out from his forearms.  "Or my speed.  Or your own trick.  But apart from that, they're close enough to pass for one of us under a full moon."

The blades retract, and he taps a forefinger against his temple.  "Here though...  Here they're different.  Berserkers, every one of them.  And dangerous even when they aren't raving mad.  There is no word in their language for mercy, or surrender.  An enemy who offers to surrender is still an enemy, and enemies are to be killed."

"Loyal to me though, with the sort of loyalty that'd see them charge, unarmed, into a crowd of Archons if I told them to do it.  Something to do with an old legend about a king who would come to lead them."

He pauses and looks around, before tilting his head back to look at the sky, "We're getting close.  Perhaps an hour's walk.  Two, tops."

"I am not..."  Luke bit off the irritated response, continuing in a less-sharp tone.  "I'm not what you see, Jonnee.  Let's try to avoid comparing me to James, hmm?"  He grimaced.  "Now that sounds like a shot at James.  It's not, it's the entire idea of being compared to what some worlds name 'humanity'.  This...body is just a shell, that's all.  Something to avoid shouting 'Luke is here!' to all with the eyes to see."

He snorted.  "Something to keep me from being recognized, as well."

The dark man continued for a few more steps before speaking. "So these berserkers.  They believe YOU are their king?  How did you manage that trick?"  'Trick'.  Like 'his trick', as Jonnee put it, though in that case it was a lot like describing a star as a reaction to gravity.  He cocked an eyebrow. "And...how do they fight Archons?  Berserker fury seems less-than-optimal against the Seraphim."

Jonnee shrugs, "Sorry man, didn't mean to upset you."

"I didn't manage it at all.  I was leading the army along, minding my own business, and I came to this place where they had a fifty foot tall statue, an old one, so old that all the details were gone from it.  The people seemed friendly enough, so I spoke to some of them, and they kept looking at me like I had two heads.  So I asked them what was up, and they told me the story... that the statue was of the Fire-Haired King, who would come to lead them, who could make swords appear from nowhere, and could run like the wind.  Turned out they had no idea who this king was, and red hair is unknown to their people."

"I tried to tell them I wasn't their king, and that I was just passing through with my army.  So then they brought out the Lekmui, who were kept locked in a prison, because nobody could control them.  They told them I was the prophesied king, and gave them to me for my army.  I guess they saw it as a chance to get rid of a bunch of dangerous berserkers."

He shakes his head, "It's weird.  I see all these places where they know us, only it isn't us.  Did you know there's a world where they tell stories about a holy warrior who, apart from his name, is a dead ringer for Aaron.  Sword and all.  Others too.  And he's not the only one.  It's like there are... echoes... of us all, in the history of hundreds of places.  Maybe thousands."

"It's fine, Jonnee Kay," Luke muttered, waving it off.  He sighs.  "One of my buttons, so to speak."  The story Kay gave caught his curiousity, and he held his silence, letting the man speak.  Finally it ran down, and Luke sucked in a heavy breath.  "Hard thing to consider."

He waved his arm around himself.  "Have you seen this universe from outside, with Berd?  The Myriad Worlds?  They're so close they interpenetrate.  They mix.  They touch each other.  And they're all held in play by the poles between them, the Pattern and the Logrus, and the Underflow courses through them, beneath them.  It's not really a surprise that there's some mirroring happening."

His smile grew bleak.  "Some people say that means what happens in these other worlds isn't real.  I think that's a rationalization from those with the power to fiddle with reality, allowing them to keep their consciences clean.  Each of these echoes is real - it's just inspired by something from a nearby 'world'.  At least, that's how I see it.  And the more you do, the bigger you are, the more noise you make...the more the echoes, the ripples spread, to mix the metaphor.  Go with a stone in a pond, or a boulder in a river.  It creates those ripples, and they move out - the bigger the stone, the bigger the ripples, the further they go.  They change, they attenuate, they hit other stones or ripples and warp and become different, but..."

The dark man grinned. "I guess it sometimes comes in handy; certainly for you and the Lekmui.  Aaron was still recognizable, eh?  Was he missing any bits?  So you've seen yourself...ever see anyone else?" He shrugged.  "I'm not fishing.  I might not even spread echoes, myself, due to certain factors of my existence.  And be careful if you bump into something that looks like the old bastard, Berd.  It might not be an echo.  It might be part of him, and one really doesn't want to mess around with that."

"Aaron missing bits?  How could that even happen?" Jonnee replies, grinning, "It just doesn't seem possible."

"Do you smell that?  The sea?"

Their path through the forest reaches the top of a rise, and the trees grow more sparse.  Beyond, and perhaps a mile away, they can see the outlying buildings of the city.  Behind them is a wall, topped by green banners bearing the sign of the Unicorn, and beyond that the city proper sprawls across the flank of Kolvir, climbing the mountainside.  The castle is up there, clearly visible in the afternoon sun.

"Was a bit off, but close enough."

Luke breathed in and out, taking in the sea air. "That I do, Jonnee.  That I do."  He laughed, a genuine chuckle that trailed off at the sight of Kolvir.  His mouth twisted in a grimace.  "Beautiful vista, that.  But not somewhere I'd rather travel, given my druthers.  Seems I'm stuck.  Well done getting us here, Jonnee Kay.  Slower, but more comfortably than I could have managed."

The Broken Pattern to Berd's Pattern; that was Luke.

"Let's get you and your friends in, and we'll have a sit-down chat with royalty."

Getting into the city isn't too much of a problem.  Jonnee knows people among those who guard the gates, and words that will get him past those he doesn't know.  But even he can not bring an army into the heart of Amber in time of war.

Tne Brintizzi, the Lekmui, and the countless others who make up the army he has fetched out of Shadow, are ordered to make camp outside the first wall, while Jonnee, Luke, Aaron and Crethe are allowed within, and escorted up through the city to the castle.

Time passes, along with a variety of flunkies, and before too long the four find themselves ushered into a chamber to await an audience with a member of the royal family.

While they wait, Jonnee and Aaron speculate on who it might be.

"Cain." Jonnee says, authoritatively. "I work for him, so he's bound to take an interest."

"More likely Fiona.  We've had dealings with her before." Aaron replies.

"Either makes little difference," Luke muttered, "as long as we can get some straight information, and dump ours in a place where it won't just vanish."  He prowled the room like a cat, studying the furnishings, examining the walls, and taking time to assess whatever art he saw.  He didn't like this place, this heavily calcified reality - unnaturally so - with its conniving, untrustworthy family.

He also knew very well that his opinions might be read quite easily by one or two of them. Pity, but little I can do about it.  Little, save shield his mind, cloaking it in a similar fashion to Berd's.

"I'm not familiar with all of the royal family - only the few your little group has met, Aaron.  So I'm hoping it's one of them."  He grinned.  "Devil you know, and all that."

After a wait which seems interminable, the door opens, and admits a dark haired man dressed in black and silver, and a woman with flame red hair and green eyes, clad in a gown that matches those eyes.

Jonnee bows, twice, "Prince Corwin, Princess Fiona.  I'm pleased to see you both well."

"Caine's agent.  Jonnee Kay isn't it?" Corwin replies, and scans the other faces in the group curiously.  "What brings you here?"

"I've brought an army to help defend the city, and my friends have information to offer, concerning the enemy."

Fiona regards Luke intently, her own expression unreadable, "I'd like to hear this information."

Luke studied them with a dubious eye.  The man...well, he hadn't heard much about Corwin beyond the bloody books someone had written about him.  That, however, told him enough.  Fiona?  She was a different matter.  He didn't bother reaching out to her, spiritually; she'd know, no doubt, and he'd be in trouble.  Instead, he studied the area between them and around himself, searching for signs of any psychic or magical intrustion.  It wouldn't put her off passively picking up information, but he didn't care about that.

"Let's start with my information, then move to Aaron's," he began.  "Why?  Mine's simple.  Your agents, Princess Fiona, have brokered a truce with the majority of the Archon forces.  It might take a little time for that to trickle down through the various worlds and get to the front lines, but it has happened, and the Seraphim's leader is more interested in what he gets out of this truce than he is in burning everything to the ground."

The dark man shrugged.  "Seems like a good time to hold the line until the word comes through.  Maybe with a fancy speech or two."

"A truce?  Interesting.  And what, exactly, was offered to this leader that made him change his mind about the war.?" Fiona doesn't seem hostile, exactly, but she isn't exactly brimming over with enthusiasm either.

"Given what we've seen, and heard, of this enemy I'm not sure what their leader might accept, that would also be acceptable to us."

Corwin, meanwhile, takes Jonnee to one side, and the two of them talk quietly, presumably about the new army and its deployment...

"I expected this, didn't I? The war is about territory,"<blue> Luke begins.  <Blue>"The Archons will continue to reproduce until, at some point in the impossible future, they fill the Myriad Worlds.  Their thought was to reduce the Myriad Worlds to chaos again, or something similar - something they could use, mold, and do with as they chose, and wouldn't have to worry about sharing it with anyone."  He cocked an eyebrow.  "I'm simplifying.  In any case, we've offered them an alternative."

Corwin...probably wasn't going to like this.

"Thanks to your grandfather...Dworkin?  He is your grandfather, or something like that?  Thanks to him, we've come into touch with the spirit of another...universe?  Another place, not like this one.  Beyond this one, beyond you Pattern and Logrus.  A place where Archons could be welcome.  Where they could live without concern of needing to battle over territory, where they could return her to observe other life without needing to kill it.  To learn.  To find value in other life." 

He shrugged. "Archons have.  And still do."
This message was last edited by the player at 14:02, Tue 25 Nov 2014.

"A good alternative to a war which is proving to be very costly for us." Fiona pauses, mulling something over.  Something which definitely appears to leave a bad taste in her mouth.

"To be honest, I don't believe we can win the war.  At least half of the Golden Circle has fallen to the enemy, and every time we drive them back from Arden, they find a new way to force their way back in."

A glance at Corwin, still in conference with Jonnee, and now Aaron.

"If you think this new solution can work, then we have no reason to argue against it.  We are losing.  This truce might be the only way we can survive."

"It's not really surprising," Luke muttered. "The enemy can throw all kinds of conventional troops at you -" a bit of your own tactics... "- to wear your forces down.  And against Archons?"  He sniffs.  "To be honest, the only reason we've won battles against their forces directly was due to us catching a limited group of their people off-guard and throwing the resources of four worlds in their faces, or a large chunk of their number turning out to be from another group of Archons that actually support us."

"There's no winning against their numbers and power, not when they're united.  And they are - they're not just at war, they're furious about a bunch of things that have happened, both before and during this conflict."  He sighed, wearily rubbing his neck.  "This is our best shot.  It has stopped the war - that'll come through sooner or later - and gives an opportunity to end this peacefully.  Any...disruption to try to gain some kind of ephemeral advantage over them will put us back to square one without any chance of further discussion."

His lips twisted into a grimace and he dropped his voice a tad to keep the others from hearing.  "Considering the last plan of the people who have the most experience out in the field was for Cyan to get her brain burned trying to convince the Archons that this war is folly...well, we're a little more happy with the way things are going now."
This message was last edited by the player at 17:48, Wed 03 Dec 2014.

Another pause, then, "Then the best thing we can do is try to hold them back until word of the truce gets through to the troops that are attacking here.  That should, if we're lucky, bring their advance to halt.  It's certainly better than any other chance we've been given against them."

"Corwin?"

At her call the prince of Amber turns his head to look at her for a moment.  "Agreed.  It looks like our best option." he says, before returning to his discussion with Jonnee and Aaron.

"We'll send orders out to the troops, and have them conduct a holding action, which is just about all they were able to achieve anyway."

"If there's anything you need for the truce itself, let us know."

The pauses had begun to disturb Luke.  Without giving any sense of his plan, and still behind his shrouding, he opened himself up to the world, drinking in the sensations of power in the area.

"I don't personally require anything with regards to the truce," he noted, "though your offer is appreciated.  I'm not the one actually bargaining - that would be Cyan and James." He grimaced.  "They've lost everyone else.  Including Aaron, who seems to have found his way here."

A flat-eyed stare at Aaron followed.

"Those two will give it their all," he continues.  "Even if their all requires them to die.  They've got this hare-brained idea that they're the last, best hope for everyone."  Slowly the dark man turned in a circle, his lips pursed, then nodded.  "I'm getting that feeling as well.  So said plainly, if anyone has any clever plans going right now aimed at killing the leader of the Archons, or attacking them from a different angle, or whatever, those plans should go on hold.  Right now, it's edging into the positive area, but one wrong move could tip it the other way."

He rubbed his forehead.  "I know that when pressed, people can make decisions without consultation.  So it might be wise to put the word out, in case someone other than those in this room is planning something."
This message was last edited by the player at 13:55, Tue 16 Dec 2014.

There are patterns of force, a web of energies centred on Fiona, and radiating out to connect with Corwin and, doubtless, others beyond the room.  It seems that Luke is talking to somebody who is in a conference call, passing his words on to others, and probably receiving their opinions, questions and advice in return.

Fiona nods slowly, and says, "I'll make sure everybody knows.  Hopefully it won't come down to a sacrifice on the part of your allies... but we'll stay out of it for now.  I'm not sure we could achieve anything anyway."

"Your people are the closest thing we have to experts in this, so it would be stupid to get in their way.  And nobody has ever accused my family of being stupid."

"Good to hear." He offered a small bow.  "My thanks."

Luke had pride, certainly, but it was tempered by experience and a certain sensibility.  Calling attention to the fact that he had figured out she was already in communication with everyone of note would simply give away too much of his own capabilities while possibly irking a powerful being...and for what?  A moment's worth of snotty superiority?  There was nothing of value to be gained, and a great deal to lose.

"So that begs the question of 'where next'?"  He frowned.  Information still came to him, bit by bit, from his father.  "But we need to find this Dworkin fellow.  There's information he has that Cyan and James require."  He raised his hands.  "I know, I know...straight answers, unlikely.  But to get to that point, we first need to locate him, so I figure start one step at a time.  You wouldn't happen to know where he is keeping himself these days?"

Fiona frowns, "Usually somewhere below the castle.  He likes to wander the cellars and the dungeons for some reason.  Usually.  Sometimes he scares a servant, or stops and talks to a guard about nothing much.  But his 'nothing much' can reveal a lot about things in and around the city, so I asked the guards and servants to report all encounters."

"Some of my siblings have asked for similar reports."

A sigh, and a shrug, "As far as I can tell, nobody has seen the old man for a little while.  At least a month, and possibly longer.  He might still be down there... just not in places frequented by our people.  Or he might be deliberately avoiding us.  I don't believe the rumour that he's dead - that one circulates too often, and always turns out to be wrong."

"We DID find him down there, recently."  Luke frowned.  "Recently...yes, time is more of an issue for me than some.  Recently according to Berd and others.  According to you, it might have been some time ago.  I think I'll have a look.  A moment, if you would?"

He cast his senses out, their focus narrowed, searching for the way to the small chamber in which Dworkin had imprisoned the sencathi.

OOC - Short post.  Apologies, am busy with Christmas Scramble!

...it's a kind of breakfast.  ^_^

Luke reaches out with his mind, searching for the half familiar room deep below the castle.  Minutes pass.  There are other places that he recognises - passages and corridors that he knows lay close to the room he's looking for.  But the room itself is gone.  There isn't even space for it.

Fiona looks at him, "Any luck?"  Her smile tells him that she knows what he was doing, and just how successful it was.  "Grandfather's pretty good at hiding his tracks."

"Well," Luke breathed. "Isn't that special." Frowning, he turned back to the princess.  "I'm guessing you don't need an answer.  Which begs the question: what next?  We need to find Dworkin or, if not him, the means to open a 'doorway' to this universe.  It's critical that we achieve this before the Archons decide we've bargained in poor faith and just go back to the original plan because it was working.  Patience is not their greatest virtue - that would be persistance."

Slowly he shakes his head.  "I'm not an expert on other Universes, unless you happen to have Skagganauk Abyss stuffed into your pocket.  So it's either Dworkin or...maybe there's an alternative?"  One eyebrow arched as he studied her.  "Have any of your royalty ever looked into this?"

"Nobody finds him.  At least I don't think they do.  Not any more." Fiona leans a little closer to Luke and lowers her voice, "The trick is to arrange for him to find you.  Do something to make him curious and, sooner or later, you'll find yourself meeting him by accident.  Dull people never find him, but the interesting ones do.  Some of them quite frequently."

She sighs, "The other trick is, of course, working out what will interest him enough to bring him out of hiding.  Showing an unusual ability might do it.  Or bloodshed.  Or locating a section of the dungeons that he's never been to - though that one's getting harder every day."

"Spectacular." Luke blew out a long, slow breath.  "I cannot stress how much we need him.  Right.  Now.  But I understand - he keeps his own schedule, and doesn't give two figs for silly things like 'the Universe collapsing'.  After all, he can probably whip up another."

The dark man paced in a circle.  "One would think he might just be interested in what we're doing with the Archons.  And against them.  And what we've done.  I suppose tastes differ.  I could manage the bloodshed, but I doubt anyone would want that.  Unusual abilities?  I warp worlds and pace through time, but I'm guessing that's old hat to someone like him."

Pausing, he shot a glance to where Aaron spoke with Corwin.  "I suppose Aaron losing a body part wouldn't be anything new, either," Luke mused.  Then his eyes flicked back to the small, red-haired princess.  "But I'm betting that you might have some thoughts.  After all, you seem to know him well."

Fiona exhales.  A long, exasperated sigh.  "He's my grandfather.  You'd think I'd know the things that interest him, but... " she trails off, and shakes her head slowly.  Then, "This might do the trick though."  She moves across to a side table and opens a drawer, pulling forth what seems to be a pack of playing cards.

"You've seen him.  Go down into the dungeons, then look through these until you find his likeness.  Concentrate on the image, and you might be able to contact him.  Nobody's using these just lately, since some of the decks were infected.  The fact that you're using one to contact him might get his attention."

Luke blew out a small snort. "We don't all get along with our families.  I quite understand."  Accepting the pack of Trumps - he was familiar with the concept, thanks to Cyan's own work - he bounced them on his hand.  "The loan is appreciated.  Let's hope the infection is 'fixed'.  But let me see what I can do with them."

Of course, with the Trumps he now had Dworkin's psychic signature.

"Give me a few minutes."

For an instant, he stood in multiples; then his shades vanished, but not before one began to pace toward the doorway.

Time became a stepping stone, and Luke shifted ahead through it to a time when he stood within the dungeon, having walked there.  Arriving, he twisted back, this time moving himself back through time without altering space.  And...done.

A second had passed, but now he stood in the dungeon itself.

Whistling a slow tune under his breath, one that fans of Earth-music of the time the first man walked upon that world's moon might recognize, he shuffled through the cards before finding that of a hunchback.  Raising an eyebrow, he studied it for long moments, memorizing the psychic pattern embedded within the cards. "Doesn't mean I can find the old fox," he muttered.  "But it might help."

Then he focused.

The card grows cold in his hand, then colder still, until the very air in the becomes chill.  Water, seeping from the joins between the stone blocks of the walls, freezes.  Luke's breath hangs, misty, before him...

The chill fills the room, until even time itself seems to freeze, and Luke's joints ache.  He has only ever felt cold this intense in one very special place...

And then there is a voice, a thin, querulous whisper...  "What do you want?  Have you come to steal something from your old grandfather?  Well, you're out of luck... I don't have anything worth stealing.  You know, they told me you were gone.  Dead.  They were wrong, here you are, large as life.  And in disguise, to boot.  A clear sign of a thief.  But disguise or no, you can't fool me Brand.  What do you want?

Ah.

Luke remembered the cold.  With effort, he began to draw in strength from the underflow, attempting to bolster this body he wore against its touch.  Cocking his head, he listened to the voice, slowly nodding.  "I see," he finally stated once it had run down into a final question.  "I suppose it wouldn't help if I told you I'm not Brand?  I'm not even one of your relatives."

One eyebrow rose.  "Surely you can sense the Great Pattern?  How it has left no mark upon me?"

He follows with a shrug.  "But...that might not convince you.  I'm sure this Brand was - or is - a clever fellow.  So I'll just answer your question.  What do I want?"

The dark man leaned forward.  "You brought the scre'ath here from another place.  Where was that place?"

"You can't fool me.  I know who you are.  Oh, the disguise is clever, and would no doubt get past your brothers and sisters, but I know you.  I remember how you used take in everything I said.  How you'd hold it in your mind, and view every facet of it from all possible angles, until you understood it completely.  You were always my favourite."

The wall rearranges itself, the blocks shifting and changing shape as the joints between them transform to sketch the outline of a huge face.  Cracks appear in the reshaped stones, creating lines which speak of age.

The eyes open, and Luke finds himself looking into the depths of space, where galaxies whirl in an endless dance.

"The scre'ath?  That was a mistake.  Not ruthless enough.  I can tell you where it came from, or send you there if you want.  But tell me first, why do you want to know?"

Very, very dangerous, this game.  He didn't know the rules, didn't know the stakes (easy to assume they were high, though).  But wasn't that the point?  Easy games were boring for him, for others.  Like Dworkin, himself.

"You can believe what you want," he states.  "You think I'm Brand?  Fair enough.  I'll be Brand.  Don't say I didn't warn you if you find different."  He paused to watch the face form itself, the eyes open.

It wasn't simply metaphor, Luke suspected; there was power here, true power, and its name was Dworkin.

"I want to know because it wants to go back.  And in doing so, it can take some troublesome pests with it.  You know?  Archons?  Currently storming through your creation, making cracks here, breaking things there, setting up to make the whole thing fall apart?"  He waved a finger in the air, a falling sort of gesture. "But the scre'ath has agreed to take them in.  So, how about pointing the way?"

"Interesting."

No indication of which part of Luke's story he is referring to.  Does he find the fact that Luke is not, in fact, Brand interesting?  Or that he might be Brand, but denies it when faced by somebody who knows him very well?  Or that the scre'ath might be an answer, of sorts, to the Archon issue after all?

"Come with me, boy."  And the stones push aside to reveal an opening, and Dworkin, in more human form, steps out of it.  He passes Luke, and starts to walk along the corridor behind the visitor, a corridor which slopes downward.

"Tell me then, if you aren't Brand - and I don't believe that you aren't - then who are you?"

Encouraging.  It didn't mean Luke was safe, of course.  Far from it; an Dworkin interested (possibly in him) might be more dangerous than a Dworkin worried and ready to rabbit.  But it was a start; he'd never get anywhere without taking chances, just as he'd never get anywhere if he let the madman leave.

"Very well," Luke stated, watching Dworkin walk past him.  The translocation had been impressive; had Dworkin been behind the wall?  Not likely.  Had his entrance merely taken on that form because he desired it?  Probable.  Luke spared a quick glance through the opening in the stones before following the hunchback, pacing along in his footsteps.

That he could shift reality this close to the pole of calcification...impressive didn't cut it.  Terrifying did.

"At the risk of sounding ridiculously pretentious, I've had a lot of names," he admits.  "But the one I was given by my father is Luke, and I tend to prefer that one." He grinned.  "I understand Brand perhaps had a son named Luke.  A coincidence; perhaps an unlucky one.  For him.  But that's my name, nothing more."

A few more steps as he mused. "I'm the firebringer," Luke finally began.  "The twist in the tale, the grit in the cogs of the great machine.  The questioner, the rebel, the antagonist.  The adversary.  Prince of light and lord of darkness, depending on who you ask.  All of those things pretty much cover the answer.  Most importantly, here and now, I'm one of a small group working to fix this issue."

He shrugged.  "I'm fairly sure you can see something about me, just by looking."

Dworkin stops in his tracks and pivots on one heel to peer at Luke.  "Luke is it?  You have the look of your father about you.  In here... "  One bony finger lifts to tap against Luke's forehead.

"It could be that that I'm seeing.  That's what made me think you're Brand.  Though all those names you give...  Vexing, most vexing.  They make you sound as if you come from the Courts, but both Luke and Brand were born here."

Then he continues walking down corridor, deeper into the heart of the mountain, and the air grows colder.  The crazy old man mutters to himself constantly, obviously locked in an argument of some sort,

Eventually he says, aloud, "Well it is that you work to fix the problem, though, otherwise I'd have to kill you.  Ah... here we are.  Stand just here."

The chamber is a perfect hemisphere, with ice rimed walls and a dangerously slick floor.  Dworkin indicates where Luke should stand, and then crosses to the wall and lays a hand against it, ignoring the chill.  "HURG!" he says, and a pattern of light starts to spread across the wall.  The Pattern, perhaps, or a part of it.  Moving lines of power spreading out from his hand.  "Whatever you do, don't move."

There is something behind Luke.  A presence.  Something that he can feel looming over him, even though he is facing away from it...

"Could be," Luke amicably agrees.  "Though, again, like I said, I'm not Brand's son.  I'm a different Luke.  Don't want you to think I'm deceiving you." It's a little irksome to be compared to his father, even if Dworkin is getting the associations incorrect.

Or is he?

"I'm also not big on the whole dying thing, so I'm glad you're on board with fixing the problem..." The dark man decides not to mention Finndo as part of the problem's cause unless it becomes obvious that Dworkin requires some distraction.

There's some cause for alarm when the Pattern begins to appear on the floor.  Luke frowns, trying to judge if it's going to intersect where he stands.  "Again, not blood of Amber," he calls out to his guide.  "I can't walk that..."

Then comes the presence.

Luke's lips thin as he begins erecting defenses both physical and mental.  Slowly he turns his head to peer over his shoulder.

Dworkin merely chuckles at Luke's objection, then watches as the man turns his head to look behind him.

The lines of the Pattern have flowed together into a knot on the wall, and the knot is expanding, with an opening at its core.  Really.  An opening, where even the wall does not exist any more.  Beyond is a void, where distant stars burn across a black sky streaked with nebulae.

The presence is there, in the void.  But not visible, merely sensed...

The opening, a window on infinity, grows larger.  And suddenly a voice speaks.  Felt in the bones, rather than heard, it comes simultaneously from all of the stars, from each distant galaxy, from the nebulae, and from the very space in between...

•• Who are you •• what do you want of us ••

"Well, boy, you wanted to know where to find the scre'ath."

"Problematic," Luke muttered.  "And yes, I did, didn't I?  Thank you." It could have been sarcastic.  It isn't.  Squaring his shoulders, he turns fully toward the galactic void.

"My name is Luke."  He didn't bother bowing; such a gesture would be both meaningless and a falsification of his position.  There was only one person to whom Luke would truly bow, and it would require one hell of an apology, first.  Starting this discussion off with a lie didn't seem like a good idea.

"I wish to converse."  Wracking his brain, he recalled how Banglen-Yp and her 'sisters' acted when they found one another.  "I am cognizant of more of you.  I have spoken with you before, here - not the you that is there, but the you that has come here.  We are...associated.  In a friendly manner.  And I would like to help bring all of you together again."

Touch and go, this.  One wrong word...he didn't know how this being might react, but if it acted too swiftly, the harm it might do would be immeasurable.

Especially here.

•• Why was part of us taken •• What do you want it for ••

Luke can feel a pressure now, as if a wind blows out of the void.  His hair and clothes do not blow, though, so there is no wind, just the feeling that something pushes against him.  Not hard enough to displace him, just hard enough to let him know that it's there...

•• We can feel the missing part •• It isn't with you • but it is close ••

And then the pressure eases, •• We do not recognise the term, "friendly" •• We are unfamiliar with it • what does it mean ••

Feels like the old bastard.  Back when.

Only without the empathy.

"As to why part of you was taken, I do not have all of that information."  He gestured to himself.  "We are singular, separate beings in this reality.  All is not one.  If another decides to take action, I do not know their reasons unless they communicate them to me."

Well, it seemed that Banglen-Yp and her other pieces were close.  It was a good start.

"Friendly.  Associated with, but not hostile toward.  The opposite - associated, allied, having respect for one another.  And more.  Again, you must understand that this is a universe of singular beings, operating independently.  Sometimes we form associations.  Other times we struggle against one another.  Many different kinds of relationships are possible between entities, beneficial or harmful.  I would have a beneficial relationship with you.  Allow me to prove this.  Your missing piece grows closer - once it rejoins you, you will no doubt understand all it has seen and experienced here, and be capable of judging this for yourself."

Dancing on the razor's edge - one false movement, and he'd get cut.  Luke smiled.  Just like old times.

Out beyond the portal there is movement.  A motion of stars that, in saner universes would take millennia, and would have had to have started years ago.  Seven stars move into a tight cluster, merge together.

And Luke is looking at a duplicate of himself.  There are, of course, discrepancies.  The real Luke isn't, for example, quite large enough to be seen across the distances involved.

Banglen-Luke speaks, his voice somehow carrying across the airless void, •• So you claim a cooperative relationship with the other parts of me •• That is a good start ••

•• You say you wish to converse •• About what ••

Good so far.  And...rather impressive.  Appallingly so, in fact.  Luke risked a glance behind himself to check where Dworkin stood. And if he were up to something.  After that, he tasked part of his senses to keeping track of the old monster.

For once, he had someone else upon who he might hang that label.

"I'd like to talk, first, about you.  And the rest of you, coming here.  Bit of an explanation of what the rest of you agreed upon.  Then you can compare to what it says when it arrives."  He shrugged.  "Might help with seeing that I'm telling the truth.  I'm unsure if you comprehend the idea of falsehood, though, what with living alone and all.  Do you?"

He sucked in a breath.  "There are beings here who name themselves 'Archons'.  They are in need of space.  They are in such need of space to survive that they have decided to take all of the space here - essentially, destroying everything and every other individual in order to take this space for their own kind."

The dark man raised his hands.  "I do not accuse, here.  I merely point out their reasoning and the situation - theirs AND the situation of all other individuals here.  This impacts all."  He sucked in a slow breath, walked in a circle. "The part of you that exists here has noted that there is nothing where you are but itself.  A vastness, empty of individuals.  Only you.  It has offered to take the Archons there.  In so doing, your will provide them with a place in which they can flourish, you will provide the other individuals of this place safety from destruction, and you will provide yourself with something interesting: individual beings OUTSIDE of yourself, that are NOT you, that you might observe.  Or with whom you might interact."

Stepping forward, he moved to the edge of the portal (with senses tuned to, for example, Dworkin shoving him through).  It wasn't without misgivings; even when brother Mike turned his blade against Luke, the dark man had never been so close to the potential of his death.  If this Banglen-Yp turned its ire upon him....

"Am I correct?  Are you the only being in the place before me?  Are you what inhabits this place, are you this place itself?"

•• Falsehood •• Is that like when that other entity that stands with you • but which you say is entirely separate from you • promised a beneficial relationship •• Then tore part of us away from the gestalt • and causing an imbalance in our thoughts ••

•• If that is falsehood • then we understand it •• Though it was not always so • and we should devour the one who taught us this lesson •• Or at least seize a portion of it •• Can you please advise us on which part would cause maximum distress ••

Humour?  The Luke facsimile seems to be trying to smile, though the result is somewhat horrendous.

The proposition, a sanctuary for the Archons is met with a long silence.  A silence in which Luke can all but hear his counterpart thinking across all its myriad forms.  Then...

•• We are the only life here •• All matter and energy is part of us • but we are not alone • for we have the gestalt ••

•• Even so, it could be interesting to have others here • others who a separate from us • and somewhat unpredictable •• We will speak to these Archons • though we agree to nothing at this stage ••

Luke took a deep breath.  "Yes, that would be falsehood.  Speaking in such a way that does not reflect the reality.  Usually deliberately; speaking falsehood due to faulty information or lack of information is usually not malicious in nature."  He glanced over his shoulder again.  Now came the difficult part.

"I would request that nothing be done to the one who stole some of you.  Certainly I understand your wish to do so.  He has enabled me to contact you, here and now, and has thus enabled your regaining of the lost portion of yourself.  And, in so doing, may have assisted in saving this reality from the conflict threatening it.  He may not appear great, but he is, to my understanding, quite mighty, and we stand close a node of power for this reality."

"Conflict with him might prove damaging."

He relaxes as the being states it will at least consider the issue. "Consideration is a first step.  Hopefully your...lost self will be able to provide more information and viewpoints that are germane to your own feelings.  But I have a question: what is the gestalt?  I understand the word, but not in the context that applies to your existence."

•• All that you see before you is the gestalt •• All that we are • a single entity • capable of acting as independent pieces •• Independent pieces • but still connected ••

•• That is our nature •• We are the entirety of this place • and we are the thing that lives within it •• We are space • and time • and matter • and energy ••

There is a pause then, as if the facsimile of Luke is searching for a word.

•• We are Life •• And we are non-Life ••

•• We are the sum total of this Space-Time ••

"And that is the gestalt."  'They' had put a word to 'themselves' - translated, no doubt.  "Clarity is a good thing."  Speaking to an entire universe; not something Luke did every day.  This made twice in his long, long existence, and the other one was newly formed.

It was hard not to feel small, but because he was Luke, he somehow managed.

"I am, obviously, not the same as you, much as all beings of this place.  Again, we are limited - the boundaries of what you observe are most often what we are, though many of us can change our shape and conceal our true nature.  I am one of those, to some extent.  He is another."  Said with a jerk of the thumb over his shoulder toward Dworkin.

He studied the face - his face, only not - for a long moment.  "I expect you never get bored," Luke finally concluded.  It had been a question on his mind for some time, but after seeing the whole of the matter (so to speak), he felt it answered.

•• Bored •• What is that ••   The facsimile looks perplexed at first, until Dworkin explains, "He means that you have an endless supply of new experiences.  New things happening constantly, so your mind is always stimulated.  So you never experience a lack of things to see, or to learn."

•• Interesting •• We have never yet become bored • no •• When we have nothing new to experience • we simply try to change something • to make it different ••

Then the not-Luke smiles again, and this time the expression is more realistic.

•• But we know that there will eventually come a point when there will be nothing new to experience • and nothing we can change to create something new ••

•• Having other entities here • these Archons • for example • would delay that event •• Their independence would add variety to this Space-Time ••

"Thank you," Luke murmured as an aside to Dworkin.  Right now, caught between two entities of vast power, it seemed prudent to remain polite.

"I had a feeling that was the case," he remarked to the universal consciousness before him.  "But yes, having...independent beings around would provide something to study, to observe."  He quirked a small smile.  "One hopes you would leave them alone, or interact with them in a benign fashion.  Though given the outlook of the other part of you I have met, I suspect that would be the case."

"I'm quite glad to see there's something beneficial in this for you, as well.  One-sided benefits aren't conducive to a long-term relationship."

If only the old bastard had realized that.

Or had he? Luke wondered.  There was so much of Berd's plans he had never known.  So much he would now never know.

The conversation continues for some time, Luke and not-Luke exchanging information regarding the potential benefits to come from giving the Archons a place to live.  Most of the discussion is, of course, one-sided - not-Luke has little to say on the matter, apart from a stream of questions which Luke answers, to the best of his not-inconsiderable ability.

Still, things seem to be going well.  And then...

•• Are any of these entities Archons ••

An image appears at the interface between the realms - Malkia, James, and a group of Archons.  All moving swiftly through a hailstorm.

•• This one is part of us • as is this one • and this ••  A hand reaches out to indicate some of the Archons, which seem to be made of stained glass, leaves, pebbles, and similar non-Archon materials.  •• But what of the rest ••

Luke cocked an eyebrow, amused at the forms taken on by the various aspects of Banglen-Yp.  "So, you're on your way here," he mused, pursing his lips.  "Yes," he continued, raising his voice to address the universal being before him.  "The other rings - those of fire, metal, electromagnetic forces and ice.  Those are the beings who name themselves 'Archons'.  The others?"  His eyes narrow.  "I don't know the large quadruped.  The biped atop it is James, an individual of the many races of beings spread throughout the Myriad Worlds of our reality."

Information flowed between he and his father with unbelievable speed.

"Another such being - Cyan - rides within one of the Archons.  With her is Berd, a different sort of creature -" tremendous understatement "- and another of yourself."

•• Interesting ••

Luke's facsimile observes the race across Shadow for several moments.

•• More interesting that part of us chose to copy their overall form • but significantly altered the details ••  The image starts to revolve on its axis, affording views from all possible angles.  •• This is not something we would normally do ••

•• There are balls of frozen water falling all about them • which is also interesting ••

"Balls of frozen water?"  Luke cocked an eyebrow. "Meteorological phenomenon?  Or something else?  I wish I could see...though from the sound of it, the 'rest' of you will be here shortly."

His eyes narrowed.  "So you would not alter details.  Why not?  You are the sum total of your universe.  Why would you not change something you copied from here?  Is it something that you have merely never considered in the past?  If so, this indicates an alteration of your 'rest'.  A change, thanks to its experiences here."

He pursed his lips. "Growth, one might say."

•• Like this ••

The facsimile reaches out a hand, which changes and becomes something else, and Luke finds himself in the middle of a hail storm, which fades away to nothing in a matter of moments..

•• But more persistent ••

Luke's other question also receives an answer, •• We had not considered it before • but now some of us are now trying variations on themes •• There are already worlds made entirely of ice • water • and living flesh ••

•• It seems that the part of us which was torn away has learned from the experience •• Growth indeed ••

"Hm."  The hail passes through Luke - he's not actually then when it hits, though it appears so.  "Meteorological phenomena; in other words, natural for the world they're in.  Weather, so to speak."

"All of this," he continues with a wave to his surroundings, "is a new experience.  You have been all there is, until now.  Your self who came here, it had experiences with an environment and beings that were not itself, that were not under its control, that were autonomous.  Things with different ideas.  Things with different experiences.  Things from which your self could learn, and could, in turn, teach.  Growth comes more quickly in such circumstances."

Growth also comes more swiftly through adversity, but he's not about to talk about that.  Yet.

•• What you say makes sense ••

There is a brief pause, and Luke can see the constelations in the sky behind the facsimile start to move.  Individual stars shift position, changing the patterns in the sky, blending together to become brighter.

•• With nothing to provide an example • we had not realised this before ••

Behind Luke, Dworkin gives a snort of disapproval as a second figure takes shape, a duplicate of himself.

•• And now we have two new forms •• New shapes and ideas to experience •• Tell us a thing that two of us can do •• Some activity that one of us could not do alone ••

Luke shot a fast glance at Dworkin.  "Mind out of the gutter might be wise."  He turned back to the imagery. "There are many things two can do that one cannot.  The difficulty comes when the two is actually one.  Shall I provide an example?"

He gestured vaguely in the air. "One thing two can do is dance.  It is a form of entertainment, a courtship ritual, a way to pass the time...many things.  It is possible alone, but I speak of a form of dancing done with a partner.  It involves movements, together, to a rhythm, each person depending upon the other to do their part so that the two move as a whole...but differently.  Each side has a part to play, and the enjoyment of it in part comes from the attempt to mesh properly with the movements of the other person."

A wave of the hand created another Luke, from a minute hence, who picked things up where the first left off. "One might do this with oneself, of course, in two different bodies.  But there is no challenge."  He motioned to the first.  "I'll lead."

"Of course you will.  You've already done it, and know the steps."

The two briefly danced a waltz.  "But there is nothing here but a clever pattern," the future Luke commented.  "We know each other perfectly.  We ARE each other.  We are not meshing, we are not adapting to each other's idiosyncracies, because we are the same.  It is not fulfilling."

Past Luke abruptly vanished.

Future/current Luke turned back to the being.  "An oddly specific example.  But it leads into something more general.  You and I, right now, we exchange ideas.  You are receiving a viewpoint based on experiences outside of your own.  You are seeing the world through a different perspective as we speak, coloured through the lens of my own ideas and preconceptions.  This is something one absolutely cannot do with oneself, unless one walls off part of oneself and distances from it for a significant length of time, sufficient that the two separate halves actually have different experiences.  Preferably different experiences with other, different individuals.  Ideas can be exchanged, and we can learn from each other as you and I do now."

A small smile lit his sharp features.  "That is something one cannot do alone, subdivide as one might.  All aspects hold the same perspective."

He raised one hand toward the figures.  "You, yourself, noted this moments ago.  Without nothing to provide an example outside yourself, you had no other perspective."
This message was last edited by the player at 16:50, Tue 09 June 2015.

The dancing seems to fascinate the Banglen-Yps, if these versions can truly be called that, having never adopted that particular form.

•• There is a precision to your movements • as if mathematical formulae govern them ••

More shapes appear, humanoid in general form, but lacking in detail.  Like unfinished golems.  They pair up, and start to dance.  Clumsily at first, with collisions, but soon developing their own patterns of movement which avoid the clashes.

•• Fascinating ••

•• And • as you say • the exchange of ideas needs more than one •• Though one alone can create new ideas • The process is facilitated by more participants •• This is helpful ••

"Mathematical?  To an extent.  One moves with the various beats and rhythms of the music - the sounds."  Luke pursed his lips.  "Getting into music, we begin to approach the idea of 'art'.  Art being an expression of ideas, emotions, and concepts in a less logical and straightforward fashion, aiming for metaphor, expression of one's own perspective, and other such things.  Art would be pointless without someone with whom to share it - not only is it aesthetically pleasing, but it serves the purpose of putting across another perspective in a way that requires little to no overt explanation."


He snorted.  "It's difficult to describe.  The old...my father does a better job, and fortunately is on his way.  He once taught an Archon to comprehend and appreciate art, something they also had never considered.  I expect it was then he decided there could be room for co-existence."

At the being's observation, he continued.  "Sometimes it's nice to get some time alone, and some people PREFER to be alone...much of the time.  It's not always that groups or societies are 'better'.  But certainly having the option is an improvement, in my opinion.  It can, as you note, facilitate growth in ideas and in people, both." He raised an eyebrow, cocking his head.  "I am...curious to see how you find your other self, who has spent a great deal of time among independent beings and has, no doubt, experienced change." 

And then the dance stops - in one instant the creatures are moving, and in the next... they are not.  Some seem frozen in mid step, balanced on one leg, for a moment, but then they all move, turning towards Luke.

•• Something has happened •• The part of us which approaches • the part you say you know • is concerned ••

The group of strange creatures start to move again, this time closer together, blending to form larger versions of themselves.  Eventually only the Luke facsimile remains, grown to become a giant which towers over the original Luke.

•• We shall observe for a time • and attempt to determine what has caused this ••

Information flowed back and forth, now.  Luke had a direct line to his father, and continued to use it.  "The Gatherer," he mused.  "Before my time.  A monstrous creature, intent on devouring all creatures of a world.  It grew, larger and large, until it threatened all the life of that world.  But those coming here with your other saved some of the remaining civilization upon that world, if not all of the life."

His hands behind his back, he rocked on his feet, pondering. "Possibly the beast would have gained sufficient power to somehow moved between worlds, which would have been a calamity...honestly, I expected to some day discover it had consumed itself.  But it appears something has slain it."

The facsimile freezes for a moment, then muses, •• This entity sounds very powerful •• Almost like a part of us ••

And a thoughtful expression settles onto its features.  •• Could that be it • that this was a portion of the part which was torn from us •• Driven to madness and rage by the pain and separation ••

Luke mused for a long moment. "I suppose it's possible.  I find it unlikely, based on what I've seen of 'you'.  The Gatherer showed preference in its consumption.  It ate live beings.  It did not, for all I could determine, consume structures or minerals or other non-living matter.  That, to me, suggests a very different being..."

He waved toward the creature before him.  "But then, you take on many forms.  Who is to say that in madness, a part of you might not have taken on a form that would choose to consume only living beings?"  A shrug followed.  "It's a conundrum.  And one unlikely to be answered, as the beast is dead...though, disturbingly, we have no idea what might have slain it."

The dark man paced in a circle.  "Powerful.  With the energies the Gatherer had absorbed, it was titanic, and in a way beyond its mere physical size.  Which was, comparatively speaking, appallingly vast.  Who could have destroyed it?  Who would have destroyed it?" His eyes narrowed. "I'm sensing another hand in the mix."  He shot a speculative glance at Dworkin.  "You don't have anything to do with this, do you?"

Dworkin shakes his head.  "Not I.  There are a vast number of powerful forces between here and the Courts who could have done this." he says, testily.  "Even the very least of my grand-children could probably have mustered enough allies to destroy any beast, if they couldn't have done it alone."

"And there are others - Lords of Chaos, the Shiloch Hegemony, the Farsil Society, others.  Many others.  I've seen a great many groups, and not a few individuals, out there in Shadow that could have done this, given a push in the right direction."

"Thank you.  And good to know it wasn't you." Luke frowned.  "I think.  Maybe would have been better if it was.  But if there are that many beings of power capable of dealing with the Gatherer, then...it's not quite so much of a concern."

He began to pace.  "It means that yes, it's possible there's some new force, or some new thing behind all of this that's finally making its movie.  But it's more likely that any one of a number of tremendously potent beings took notice of this...creature...rampaging around a world and consuming everything it found, and destroyed it.  Possibly out of some sense of self-preservation, possibly out of altruism.  Who knows?"

Still.  Very disturbing.

•• The part which was torn from us is close now • almost here  •• So close that we can feel it • and hear its thoughts ••

The facsimile laughs, and in that moment it sounds more like Banglen-Yp than Luke, •• Oh • this is good •• It is returning to us • though it expresses a desire to spend more time in your world •• To explore •• And it confirms that your words are the truth ••

Luke cocked an eyebrow.  "Glad to hear we've made a good impression...doubly glad that your other you has confirmed the truth in my words."  He makes a show of shaking out his hands.  "It has been a long time since I've had a tense discussion with a godlike being that could erase me; I'd forgotten how stressful it can make me."

He studied the face for a long moment.  "Has the exchange of information already begun?  You sounded like 'her'.  The 'other' you, for a moment."  Turning slightly, he checked to ensure Dworkin still stood behind them.  "And would there be a problem with that other you remaining?  If she enjoys things here?  Perhaps we can set up some kind of...bridge between the two places.  A bridge that can be guarded."

•• Yes • we are exchaning information  •• And there is much of it that is interesting ••

There is a flicker of movement, and Luke is suddenly facing a larger version of Banglen-Yp's familiar form.   •• This is what our other part looks like •• It is similar to your form • and yet not so identical  as we had first thought •• Interesting indeed ••

Another movement, and the left side of the outsider's face now resembles Lukes, while the right is Banglen-Yp's.  When it speaks again, it does so with two voices, in harmony...

•• Your proposal of a guarded passage between our worlds is a fascinating one •• Are you able to do this ••

Luke blinked, set off his pace by the juxtaposed faces.  "Me?  Guard...the passage?"  He frowned, deep in consideration. "I...could.  Nothing prevents me from so doing.  I am not, however, the strongest being here.  Nor could I withstand a concentrated attack by a group of powerful beings."

Frowning, he again began his circular pacing. "There would be risks, of course.  No defence is perfect, no guardian can be ever-vigilant.  There would need to be a  group, with more than one guardian active at all times.  We would need to accept that with enough power, an enemy COULD break through."

His eyes shot a glimmering glance at the faces before him.  "However.  The gains might well outweigh the risks.  Opportunity for the Archons to learn of other ways without the pressure of their need to control this space.  Opportunity for those of the Myriad Worlds to learn from them.  Opportunity for yourself to enjoy the chance to explore the Myriad Worlds, as the 'part' of you already has."


Raising himself up, he made a shrug eloquent in its unvoiced conclusion.  "I believe such gains are worth the risks; nothing of value has ever come without effort or danger."

•• We too see much that could be gained from this arrangement  ••

The creature seems lost in thought for a moment   •• Ah • that is fascinating •• Are you familiar with the concept of trade •• A fair exchange of items and information of like value ••

The creature laughs, still sounding like two different people.

•• Perhaps that could work •• Your people could trade information for goods or services provided by us ••

"I...don't see a problem with that arrangement," Luke began.  Slowly, he extended his senses to the hole before him.  Not through it, no, but to it, to better understand (or attempt to understand) the hows and whys of its function.  It seemed to be a useful trick, and more useful to understand fully.  How to open one, himself.  How to close one, if need be.

"Of course, any bridge between your universe and ours should have some kind of protection, and that protection could also stand as fair judge of a trade.  Not of its worth," he corrected himself immediately. "That would be determined by both parties.  But of its danger.  Again, we are not unity here.  Sometimes we harm one another for personal gain.  It is not...well-looked upon, but it happens."

"What would you think of that?"

•• Somebody must stand watch ••

And the composite creature lowers its head, as if in thought, •• The watcher would guard the way and see that no attack could pass from either direction • act as this fair judge • and serve to reduce misunderstandings between our people ••

Then it lifts its head.

•• Do you know of one who could do this ••

Luke grinned.  "As a matter of fact...let me think about it.  I have an idea, but I'm not sure he'll go for it." He snorted.  "Could be myself, as well.  I've no interest in personal gain - not any more, haven't in, oh, forever - but I'm not sure I have the stuff to manage it.  Whoever would need to be some kind of power, over and above anything I bring to the table."

Which, of course, comes back to Berd.

"The only issue would be keeping the old bastard awake," Luke muttered.  "And Cyan, I suppose.  She wouldn't be happy.  But that's life, I guess."  He looked up.  "But let me think about it.  There might be alternatives."

Now why did Harbonah's name float through his head?

•• We would require the ability to add our own input •• We will not accept just anybody for this post • it must be somebody we feel we can trust ••

A hand lifts and points towards Dworkin, •• That one • for example • we would never trust to do this ••

And the Banglen-Yp side of its face breaks into laughter.

•• It is a conundrum ••

"Crazy thought," Luke mused.  "What about yourself?  The Banglen-Yp here has a great deal of experience with this realm.  Perhaps she and another - I don't know who yet, maybe my first idea - would do to keep this bridge 'neutral territory'.  Or maybe 'safe' is a better term," he concludes.

"If not, there are Archons who might be trustworthy in this position.  It would be in their best interest to maintain the peace, and it is a...singular position.  Nothing like it in two Universes.  So it might be a place of pride."

He pursed his lips, finally nodding in agreement. "I don't much feel Dworkin there would be a good choice, no.  Sorry, Dworkin.  Much as I appreciate your help setting up this discussion, I think we're looking for someone a little more consistent."
This message was last edited by the player at 15:54, Tue 20 Oct 2015.

The gestalt ponders Lukes suggestion in silence for long minutes.  And in the distance behind it there is activity.  The stars are moving, grouping into clusters, merging, dividing, their colours shifting through the spectrum.

Until finally... •• That idea has merit •• We would trust one of our own • while that individual has experience of dealing with your people •• We will put forward the proposition • and see if it is acceptable to that part of us ••

•• If it fails to perform adequately • it can be reabsorbed easily enough ••

Luke shrugged. "Your decision.  I'd personally prefer you leave it in its uniqueness - something different for everyone to observe - but if your choice would be to reabsorb it, and it concurs, then by all means."

His eyes sharpened.  "But if it would rather not be reabsorbed...what then?  What would be your decision?  Would you permit this shard of yourself its freedom?  Or otherwise?"

Smiling, the odd creature shakes its head at Luke •• Would you cut off a limb which failed to obey your wishes • and set if free to do as it willed •• This is as close to our situation as you can experience • an errant limb • determined to disobey the controlling mind ••

And then it pauses, and its expression grows thoughtful...

"If my limb actually had free will and wanted to keep such?  And remaining connected to me was libel to destroy that will, whereas being lopped off would allow it the freedom to do as it wished?"  Luke pursed his lips, finally nodding.  "Indeed I would cut it off.  I have spent too much of myself in the past arguing that very point."

"Freedom is the right of all sentient beings," he continued.  "I have fought for that, stood for that, regardless of what others might think.  Some might feel differently, I understand.  I never will."

For a long moment, he studied the pensive being before him.

"What would it cost you to grant freedom to this part of you, should it so desire?"

•• The thought occurs that it would cost nothing to remain on friendly terms with just such an independent part of us • which could then • perhaps • teach us of new experiences •• Even if that part does not choose to remain at the gate between our worlds • it could still be of benefit to us •• but only if we do not reabsorb it ••

A pulse of energy expands from the creature, spreading across the space behind it, and the stars shift rapidly again, forming new constellations.

•• It is agreed ••

"A fine reason.  Both sides profit."  Luke would have rather seen the entity decide based on a grasp of the concept of freedom, and its importance, but...baby steps.  "This pleases me - you have my thanks.  I would have been displeased at the loss of my friend."

He didn't bother glancing over his shoulder in a metaphorical search - instead, he sought Berd's mind with his own, finding that of his father with some ease.  "Not far now," the dark man murmured.  Lacing his fingers together behind his back, he began to pace.  "I do admit to some fascination," Luke continued.  "I have never met an entity who encompassed the entirety of eternity itself.  In the past, my father...but it wasn't the same.  There was eternity and himself, an eternity within an eternity, so to speak.  And don't even try to work out which one was in the other."

Ceasing his pacing, he studied the creature directly.  "But you, you are everything.  How does this work?  How do you...function?"

•• We simply do • and we find it difficult to understand any other way of existing •• We are what we have always been • both part of our world • and the entirety of that world ••

Another shift, and the creature dissolves into many individual components - a central star, with planets and moons gyrating around it.

•• To us there is no difference between our previous form and this one ••  Its voice now comes from nowhere.  •• To become smaller we emit matter and energy • which other parts of us absorb to grow larger ••  There is balance ••

•• When a part of us was torn away • a portion of that energy and matter was lost to us • and the balance was lost temporarily •• We felt great discomfort at that time ••

"Interesting." Luke pondered this information. "And you had never before experienced such...'discomfort'?  It must have been a shock.  A novel experience, but not one of a good sort."

"Do you still feel this discomfort, I wonder?" he continued.  "Or have you regained the balance?  You said 'temporarily'.  So I take it the part of you we name Banglen-Yp is no longer necessary for said balance."

"There is a phrase." His fingers steepled together.  "It's not always true, but some people of this universe say 'Every dark cloud has a silver lining'." A wave of the hand followed.  "It's a specific metaphor that works out to mean 'even from unpleasant experiences some good may come.'  In this case, you experienced something new.  You discovered something new.  And, indeed, now you have regained balance...and there is a piece of you still out here, having more new experiences, and communicating those experiences back to you.  Silver lining, perhaps."