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==[[Timeline of Jeweled Amber]]==

 

===5242-Desri in Nu Yark with Zicatalas of Azcala===

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

===5245-Jopin, Mitcholt, and the Arrival of The Forces of Tosa===

Among the giants a titan stands boldly. Heads above the others in runescribed blue green reardan scale, long blond hair framing a gigantic squared jawed face. Jopin meets eyes with the creature even he must call a man. Three silver trees embossed on his brow beside a stone that shifts colors quickly. A dark blue cloak that covers his shoulders bear 12 sigils of the Saints of Battle, and the arms of the royal house of Tosa. He stands against the seafoam with his hand on the pommel of a mighty greatsword, glowing with blueish white light running along the rune-scribed blade.

 

Jopin catches the titan's eye as the ship passes.  

 

Behind Jopin a thin man in brown comes to stand beside him. The titan turns and salutes the pair in passing, though all three know that if the man in brown had remained hidden, no salute would have been given.

Nodding, Jopin agrees. "I'll get a crypt ready. I can think of few enemies of Amber I would rather see dead more then this ally."

"Mayhap, old friend. But Azcala comes too and we may have cause in time to hate them more. By the way, King Random sends you his greetings"

Fort nods, pulling cards from his belt. “Hey. Ya. Lop has the place.. Get Barlo and Trevout and Vomil ready to bring stuff through. The boss wants you to start hunting the dens of this place”

 

 

===5245-Bleys warns Random===

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

===5246-The Arrival of the Cult of the Savior/Slayer. ===

Fort, ” Venki, my friend, you really can't blame Relt about this. You did touch the rock. Jeremy touched the rock. Dolki, Alex, Mitcholt, Zatonic, Geata, Merceno, Harriet, Digan, even Caland all touched the rock. I declined to touch the rock, you will remember. Relt is just responding to the magic of you folks having touched the rock. For the love of [[Mac's Bar]] you and I both know the difference is semantics. So shut the hell up about it, please. ”

===5246-Jeremy and Fiona at Tirna no'gath===

Standing at the top of the pinnacle the two men look down over the fairy lit city below.  Beside them sits a man in the Uniform of the Elites, smoking a cigar with a hint of thyme.   The city sparkles as the evening werelights start lighting in the gathering dusk. Traffic seems to change as they watch from the wagons and press of the daily commerce to the coaches and conveyances of the evening.

One man is tall, thin, to the point of emaciation. Bones, skin and bones, skin and bones of well-loved dark magic. White haired and light skinned, he wears  a close cropped beard streaked with red.  

Around his fingers and neck are thousands of tattooed symbols that shimmer slightly with power.   He wears wizard’s robes in blue and black.   At his side is a heavy blade unsuited normally to the practitioners of the magical arts.  

The other is tall as well, powerfully built with a heavy black beard surrounding a heavy chin.  Dark eyes look out over the city from under deep brows. He wears what might be fatigues if one wished to hide in a jungle of purple and gray.   Around his waist is a thin rapier and a heavy caliber pistol. 

The thin man comments, “Amber at dusk.  It seems so peaceful. Hard to believe it is the center of things this side of the Abyss.”

“Yes, and I was once its king, if only for a short time.”

Above them a shadow of the moonlight filters down between the clouds. Stairs appear at the top of the stone beside them.  Looking up the two watch Tir-na Nóg'th appear in the sky above them.

Rising, the Elite turns, “Sire, I have to contact my superior. Routine. You should have a few hours unless one of the other royals decide to come up here. The Pattern Guard should be there by now.”

Nodding to the Elite he pulls his deck from his belt. Drawing a trump he concentrates. “Yes.. Bring us through.”

Stepping through the Trump, Finndo grips the hand of the pattern guard, thin, and deceptively frail.    Looking her over, he nods, “Sister Fiona.    Well met, as Random said to expect.”

She nods, looking over the elder brother she has only met a few times, “And you are as I was told as well. I would very much like to speak with you at length at your earliest convenience. Our paths have crossed so rarely. Only a half dozen times in a thousand years. ” She looks to the other man beside her brother. “And you are?”

He nods, “Jeremy Lockpick Fairhand.  As far as Amber is concerned, I’m a member of CHAD.”

Chuckling, “CHAD? Sure... I’ve never traveled in York myself but I know very well who you are in those realms.   Certain things are unavoidable to those of us in the craft, as you will find in time.  I’ve met your son Venki though.  I’d like to compare father and son.”

Smiling, a look that seems uncommon on his face, he laughs softly as he says “He is shorter than me, and far more gregarious, less prone to bloodshed and not as skilled in the sorcerous arts. He tends toward loving caresses and sweet words when he fucks while I prefer leather straps and a fair amount of crying  from my bedmates. Anything else?”

Jeremy and Finndo walk behind her, observing the Pattern of Tir-na Nóg'th with interest.  Fiona asks, “Why did you want to see this pattern rather than the one downstairs?  The other is certainly more potent.”

Jeremy looks to Fiona briefly, then back at the pattern. “I have an affinity to things beneath the moonlight.”

Laying down beside it, Jeremy lightly lowers his hand above the pattern.   He concentrates and small electrically bursts leave his finger tip to be echoed by sparkles and lightning from the Pattern.

A shape appears beside Finndo, bearing the Jewel of Judgement.  Random nods to Fiona as they watch the prone wizard. He shows the slight strain of just having walked the pattern in Amber.   A knowing nod passes between the two men who have sat the Throne of Amber.  

Jeremy stands, and regards the pattern with respect. Turning to the trio he bows to the king.

“Sire, it’s been a very long time since I felt such avarice, but all of my magic cannot see me through that work.  I know that some without the imprint of the pattern in his genes has walked the pattern but I would agree that the pattern desired that be done. Me it does not desire.  I shall have to be content with the Broken Pattern imprint. Though I intend to hunt down a Woven Logrus as well.”

Random nods, “You pastimes are your own, Jeremy. So, how does it compare?”

“Much of what I have learned from your brother can be used in York, though I am unable to walk that pattern either. I imagine much of what the King of York can do, could be done here.   I imagine that what you can do here can be done there, though it would be interesting to see how that pattern responds to you and your jewel.  Once I see the Sigil of Azcala or Regor or Bursain, I will know more.  York is far less potent then this pattern, I know that much for certs.  I have examined the imprint of the Logrus carried by Digan, Jurt, Merlin, Nur ed Din, Koob and Tolknor.  Digan, Jurt and Merlin bear the same imprint. Nur, Koob and Tolknor’s are of a significantly lesser order.  A shade of the Logrus if you may” He speaks leaving his eyes on the pattern with longing.

“As powers balance, I would echo your advisers. I would learn at their feet like an apprentice, in fact.  This pattern is dramatically more powerful than York and the Amber Fallen in its shadows.   I have yet to see Mandalay or Avalon, of course.   I will see Mandalay in time but I doubt Prince Corwin will allow me into his realm.    Still, I can infer from context as much as I have. Do you still wish me to proceed?”

Random looks to Fiona, then to Finndo, receiving guarded faces from them both, he nods.

Removing the Jewel of Judgment from his neck, he passes it to the Archmage of Tosa.

Jeremy Fairhand takes the stone, gazing deeply into it, pressing it to his face.  Shivering, he falls to the ground, the stone wedged to his left eye.   The trio kneels beside him as red glowing sparks hold the stone in place.   Random and Finndo grip his shoulder, channeling their combined attunements into the stone. Feeling it affect the dark wizard, they lose themselves in its powers for a time together.

Time passes.

The stone drops to the ground of the pattern room of Tir-na Nóg'th. Fiona picks it up as the room starts shimmering in the moonlight. Looking about she sees the walls starting to fade away, the ocean far below them becoming faintly visible. 

Pulling her trumps out, she turns her deck face forward to herself,  throwing her full force into the contact.

“BLEYS!  PULL ME THROUGH!  FOUR OF US AT DEATH’S DOOR!”  A hand reaches out and grabs her, pulling hard. She grabs Finndo and Random, pulling them behind her. Secretly wishing the thin wizard’s death, she wills herself into the open trump.

Random, waking as he passes through the trump, grabs the Archmage’s hair, dragging him across the trump’s threshold as Tir-na Nóg'th fades away.

Beside the king on the battlements stood two people as he pondered the news. A third stood far aside, waiting.

Random passed the bottle around to Bleys and Fortunadas, “Do tell.”

Bleys nods, as surprised by Benedict's cursing and drinking during an after battle report as the results of the battle, ”Adventurers from the Stone of Skull shadows in Tosa... Spice addicts. Tosian melange doubles one's speed. You see the blue in blue eyes on them and that's it Their wizards and their magics specialize in haste magic as well.” Fort nods, his own blue in blue eyes shaded by night and his foppish feathered hat.

“12th Legion lost perhaps 2000 troops immediatly, 6000 wounded in the first few minutes.. But those drunken healers started riding among us healing our people like nothing I've ever had the power to use. It was....extraordinary. “

===5261-Doings at Thin Whip's===

After a variety of escapades the scene evolves.

Second Floor of Thin Whip's Place. in the Stick Shop area, we meet our heroes Bleys, Carisa and Nala, as they narrowly avoided being forced to brutally embarrass 5 notable members of CHAD. Custus, a reasonably high ranked Fighter, and his companions Vislar, the half-orc brute, and Grin, the Fighter thief, and Farsk, the half-human, half, something uncertain, and Emilis, the disgraced half elven fighter thief, have all all agreed to split a Tucker keg of dark ale, a couple pitchers of port, some lizard fries and a rack of rats and peppers.

Rats and peppers, it should be noted are actually strips of beef, marinated exotically and spicy, with, skewered with jalapeños and pineapple and grilled. Not actual rats on a stick, like one might find in Chaos. A rack is about 20 skewers.

Custus had invited Carissa to shoot some pool, while Nala watches and Bleys flirts with her.

Despite having introduced himself as Buddy Fish, even the dimmest of the CHAD warriors, for the record thats Farsk, are beginning to think they are having an evening with folks far above their pay grade.

From a corner Thin Whip seems t be overseeing the knife pits but his eyes keep glancing at the power trio, sensing opportunity ahead.

Carissa watches Nala for a moment to make sure she is ok. Finishes off her beer and pours herself another from the keg. She nods to

Custus, “I’ll play you. Have to show my new friend how it is done.” She says casually and calmly. He is clearly good at the game and their choice of recreational locations is clear quickly, he being the little groups leader. You get the impression that he chose to not mention bets or try the hustle, reasoning the 3 of are more then might be seen. He plays friendly, though his eyes do wander

After a time a trio of dice appear among the CHAD warriors and Bleys. Copper wings cross hands back and forth. Drinks flow. Laughter comes as the game at Thin Whips goes on.

Nala learns the rough points as Carissa and Custus play and trade games.

In Time Thin Whip wanders by, looking over everything, a set of trumps ruffling thought his off hand, a drink in his other. Catching Carissa's eye he nods, "Care for a refill of the good stuff, Have that drink I mentioned? "

Cari plays eagerly. Not surprisingly she is good. She continues drinking and will help Nala learn how to set up shots and the rules of the game. At the end of the last game when Thin Whip comes up, she nods. “I think my new friend could use a break. “. She winks and heads off with Jurt.

Finding an unoccupied booth, that looks like it was torn from a Parisian whorehouse / restaurant in deep and well cleaned but stained red god brocade. He twiddle card on the chipped and scrawled table as efficient waitresses bring over a carafe of wine, clean glasses and large bowl of herbaceous mystery meat fried bites.

Cari has travelled all over the world. As long as it’s not human she is not picky about meat as long as it’s well cooked. She accepts the food and nibbles. She hadn’t eaten during pool play, but now that it is leisure time. “So thank you for your hospitality,” she says looking him over carefully.

""I don't get up to the castle much these days but recently I noticed your card in my deck. I like to make my acquaintance to my kin as best I can. I doubt Ginger would have brought you here unless he expected me to drag you off at some point. His obligation to the crown for past sins is to watch over the cousins. While my own generation is further along then the grandchildren of Oberon I still am ranked in that kinship. You have an earth vibe, as so many of the Cousins seem to have. "

"Earth vibe?" she pauses, "Oh yes, Earth, that is indeed where I grew up. Yes, technological, non-magical, early space age. A gun age. I see the appeal of course, but I like my worlds a bit more frisky. "

"Corwin talks in his ego books as if he is the first Amberite to live in those. Frankly I don't see the appeal. Nu Yark is a far more entertaining collection of shadows with a lot more diversity. High levels of tech, frequent use of sorcery, nearly all the shadow magics. and manno...the rock wails.. stars and crashes and fire and rage...billions of people, hundreds of races, and little oversight...still, it is a bit too close to chaos for me. The last thing one needs is a disapproving lady of chaos dropping by while one is in the middle of a flying J, right? .Anyway... I didn't want to talk to you to encourage you to leave town...

She nods indicating he should continue. Inwardly, she thinks those shadows sound much more her style.

"What I did want to encourage is an open mind once the righteous prigs among the elders start harping on you about the dangers of Chaos, and the wicked foesman of their own blood. Such as me. My brother Despil is the Ambassador to Amber and as such is as much a politically correct nanny as any of them. But there are others. Despite our birthplace there are things about this end of shadow that are much more entertaining, even safer. Life is cheep in Chaos and royal blood is little defense. Here at least one isn't executed without due process and some kind of explanation.

"So, I am eager to put myself in the good graces of any Amberite I might. Some, well, its easy to see will be less likely to be open minded: Military types, fanatics of Ambers. Those that carry ancient grudges that they had no involvement in. Those kind look down their noses at hedonists like me. "

All the while he's been running his hands through card riffs. You notice that he seems to fidget all the time, even in small ways, and is always in movement. Drinking sips of wine almost as breaths. Lastly he flips a card out and it glides expertly in front of you. It has his image.

"Thats my card. So you know, its a logrus trump. One need not be a initiate of the Logrus to use it, nor to transport across it."

flipping another next to it. It looks like a ice cream truck.

"Thats Houser. A companion of mine. He has everything in his truck. Ice Cream, burritos, shot glasses, fine wines, good gin, assault weapons, cutting lasers. grenades, translation books, medical supplies, orc salves, nearly everything. If you need something quick, give him a call. He may be able to help."

"And should you want a little muscle. To open doors, move cars, clear away hordes of orcs, This is Doveryat. He is very friendly, jovial even, and has an incredible capacity for honeymead. Just don't call him Pooh, its a sore point. He can rage through groups of foeman like few others. He is willing and able. "

Tucking the four cards together, flipping them around.

"Take those with my compliments. The only string on them is that someday someone might ask your opinion of me. In that unlikely occasion id like to have you think of me in a friendly manner and to have done a tiny service. You may think yourself of little matter in the powers of the universe, the battles between Law and Chaos, but we of the blood, regardless, are creatures of potential. "

He chuckles as he sees Bleys stand and eye the two of you.

"Ginger is about 30 seconds from coming over. One last thing. You've been seen in oracles of Chaos. You and your male companion. And Arloxedra, the dull stick, of all people. The three of you are connected in some work in the future. Should you need my blade or my spells, do not hesitate to call. I have a lot of karmic debt to work off and standing to battle with prophesied amberites would do me well. Don't let Bleys take those away from you. He'll try "

Standing, full glass in hand, he turns and walks to a group about to fight and quells ill humors then fades from view in the crowds of Thin Whip's Place.

She slides the card towards her and looks each over carefully. “We will talk again. That can’t be all you ask. I like this place. I’ll be back,” she says simply. “This is more my kind of place than the castle.”

She sticks the cards in an inner part of her jacket and finishes her drink and pours the last of the carafe into her glass. She gets up and turns looking at her uncle wondering what he’s really like.

She offers him the glass. “It is quite good,” she says with a murmur.

Bleys steps over and sits on the edge of the table Custus and Nala are playing on. Custus starts to say to Bleys but a tiny glance makes him decide to change his shot choice.  

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Cari can’t but help laugh out loud. She sizes up the rest of the room and watches Bleys with Nula.

 

After the current game is done she will ask Bleys, “Play a game with me?”

 

"Of course. Its been awhile since I played before tonight. Ive been horribly polite and political for a couple decades."

 

 

In time, and with some reluctance, the Chad guys shove off, having survived almost picking a outrageously unequal fight and instead making an interesting set of contacts. Curtis say he hope to see you again soon. That he come to thin whips often and can be contacted at the Chad guild hall at the Palace Commons Tavern.

 

Cari flirts a bit on a low level. Shakes hands with Curtis and says she will be back. She's drunk a lot, smoked some and looks to Bleys and Nula. "Guess its time to shove off?" Somewhere deep down, she's disappointed that there were no fights. She has some energy to work off.

 

 

She nods with understanding, "We all have those periods." she says with a slight slur to her words. (Elites?)

 

 

 

 

"And I'm hanging at the castle, feel free to give me a call...I mean visit or note," she says.

 

"Before at the beginning and.." she gestures to her face. "You saw something, what was it,” she is drunk and speaks boldly.

 

 

"I was told that you would be walking the pattern after your year at Fantalin. Its the way its been for the incoming cousins. From everything Random has said you hadn't walked the pattern. So I looked... But you have been through the pattern, Its inscribed in your genes already. So I accessed a certain awareness I have through the jewel. it showed me Gerard walking you through the pattern when you were young. Thats tricky. We sometimes forget Gerard can be clever. He must have had a good reason at the time to do something so radically unexpected. I imagine you probably don't remember it, or it comes as a vivid dream or reflected when you took acid or drank to much as the universe being overly colorful. It would have given you greater dexterity. Powered your endurance. It would give you a sense of internal power that probably fed your normal self-confidence. Im not aware of others who walked the pattern as young as you have. When you walk it again, perhaps you will discover why you don't remember such an experience. Still....Its something you might want to speak to Gerard about"

 

 

 

He laughs, "Oh, the pleasure was mine! Till I ran into you my plan was to go check on my horse and make sure they were grooming him to my standards. Maybe get in some sword practice. A visit to Thin Whip was the furthest thing on my mind. As for Gerard....If he lied to you about that, don't hold it against him. We've had a lot of reasons to be secretive over the years."

 

 

===5262-Family Details in the Library with Arloxedra===

===5265-A Conversation in Trasidy ===

“Maylon Hendrake, Jurt Sawell, and Borlak the Ravager on one side. Arloxedra, Carissa, and Vander on the other. the strongest chance for is is Macsen, Dalt's son.  Born here, of the blood of this council as well. Dalt might sway him but his home is here.  Perhaps his loyalty will be too. And a wild card... Im not sure. According to the oracles its a piano player or a demon, maybe both.. ”

“Well, Macsen of course we all know.  Beyond him, Maylon has been to Trasidy many times, as you know. She likes the bloody parts. Jurt does some trade in exotic animals, nothing profane. I've done a tiny bit of work with him. He's been here to find musical acts, magical oddities, yet, he comes from the same bloodline as Maylon. Borlak,..luckily we have not made the acquaintance of him and glad I am of it. I've seen what his horde does to cities. I met Arloxedra when Eric was crowned, as part of your entourage. Nebbish, nervous, critically flawed, with the mark of doom. The others, just visions. Speed, youth, potential. A spare heir, an infant war-god, in case a doomed prince was sacrificed by a pragmatic king. A girl child who walked the pattern holding her father's hand. A demon flayed alive by his brothers till he cursed and rocked the towers of chaos. I can't say which is more dangerous; devils we know or devils we don't. “

Sitting behind the sort of drum kit that is worthy of the King of Amber, Random set the sticks aside and reaches for his tankard. Setting his cigarillo aside he looks over at the nephew he is about to dump a metric ton of crap on. He watches him sling his ax aside and reach for his own tankard.

Sighing, and lays out his cards.

“So this is the problem. The shadows ebb, flow, and swirl in ways that boggle the mind. I've sat in the Jewel of Judgment and felt the way things flow and seen the islands of stability like rocks in the oceans. Amber is a huge island. It has shadows moving around it crashing on the sand. Squiggles like Bursain, Trasidy, Alamond, and even Azcala, are their own rocks. Avalon is another huge island. Mandalay is another. Each time a shadow crashes it gains a little something and loses a little something.”

“Its an imperfect metaphor, but it will have to do. The shadows obviously don't move but its the perceptions of the powers regarding them that I saw while in the jewel. But there is an exchange..I need people to observe it. The exchange isn't rocks and brush and oceans..Its people, thoughts, music, art, architecture... it could be anything. I need people that will note little things, as well as big things.”

“Currently I have Cogswell Mal At Riess as the ambassador to Mandalay. Hes kind of a wackadoo but a loyal one. He's musical as well as military so I thought he was a good choice since as a veteran of Patternfall and a Duke, he seemed respectable in rank. But it turns out that he isn't a good at noticing things. I don't expect Mandalay to be a military threat but that's all Cogswell seems to think is important for me to know. I don't need someone who only knows one song. I need someone who can play lead, but can strum the rhythm if the song requires it. And I think I need someone not only of rank, but of blood.”

“Mandalay is the center of Shadow, regardless of how the ebbs and flows of shadow veils work. If trends are coming from Chaos to Amber they will pass by there. And visa versa. Things bouncing off the squiggles will show up there as well. I need a clever eye, a ready wit, and person able to sing lead, but still be able to work with the chorus.”

“I also need someone to hang out with Adrian and his collection of Lords and lunatics as a Lord of the House Bariman. He has seven of my own siblings as Lords; Orsoloa, Sand, Elfwine, Hamilton, and Joseph. As well as Fleece and the ½ of Deirdre that is bonded to him. Toss in some of your cousins, Nadine, Kenshin, Houk, Dashel, Tender and Ghost, and that's a lot of family firepower outside of Amber. His other lords are a collection of nature gods as well as lots of musicians and artists. And of course Fleece's pack of Chaos hounds that turned on Chaos when Fleece did.”

“I don't expect him to raise an army but I do expect an attack on our culture. He can export music and theater that can change public opinion. He has Orson Wells running a road company of Les Misérables that spent a decade in the Dramaturge and is in Thelusia now. It opens in Amber soon. Like I need an anti-royalist theater production now? Bleys practically made my reign a farce at the beginning when he was on his drunk ambition tour. Adrian has friggin' David Bowie scouting concert venues here. Warohl prints made in Mandalay are turning up in Amber art galleries and it would not surprise me if Adrian didn't have Warhol as a Lord already. Branch Rickey, John McGraw, and Juke Talwig manage a baseball league in the Dramaturge with 80 teams spread across 30 shadows in the Green Sway and they are trying to get minor leagues set up in a half dozen Golden Circle kingdoms as well as cities along the Jeweled Road.”

“The problem is that Adrian knows that music, theater, art, and sports are things I really can't thump. I just need to know whats coming better so I can plan for it.”

“Another problem is that Mandalay is officially neutral in the battles between Chaos and Amber. So its like Casablanca for agitators. The Blade of Bursain is lost right now and whoever finds it can do a heck of a lot of damage with his lordship of Bursain. I won't bore you with the magical details but I need to know if there are rumors about where the Blade is. Such rumors will be scrubbed clean by the time they get here but they will be fresh and new in Mandalay. Azcala has been sending Jaguar and Puma cultists down the Jeweled Road for 20 years now and while CHAD has been pretty good at keeping them out of the city they are infiltrating the Golden Circle kingdoms. Azcala has a friggin Embassy in Mandalay. Lastly, Borlak is on the move. He usually raids around Regor since those shadows protect him from Vance's starships and my riflemen. The last thing I need is Borlak bringing his Flowing Horde to Amber.”

“So...Truman, i'd like you to take the post of Ambassador to Mandalay from Amber. Go, hang out with the lords, chat up the family members, spend time in the Dramaturge. Hell, Adrian might offer to let you walk the Mark. I'll be encouraging your kin to drop by and visit you. With the exceptions of Bleys, Flora, Vance, you and I, few of the Amber side kin have spent much time in Mandalay.”

Sitting with a crooked frown, Truman does a one-hand roll and lights the wrap, with a offhand flick.

“Well now, Random, it sounds like I have little choice in the matter. Still, I have been through the Dramaturge a bunch. You know of course that Hamilton, Dashel, Vance, and I run a Famous Concert Tour business out of the place. I've done Woodstock a couple times with them, as well as some stuff at the Fillmore, some Dead shows, Mozart directing “the Magic Flute”, “Ajax”, staring Sophocles. Took a few tours to the games in Rome, but that was a bit...gruesome. Oh, and a really bizarre tour of Musicals with really bizarre combinations of actors in lead roles. John Wayne and Elinor Roosevelt in “Hello, Dolly”, Charlie Chaplin and Whoppie Goldberg in the “King and I”; That kind of thing... I suppose I could lead some of the kin around there without too much trouble. Dashel would probably better at that. He maybe a lord in Mandalay but he considers himself more cosmopolitan. As for the rest, I'll keep busy.”

Tapping off the wrap and taking a chug of the dark, he continues.

“I hate to be a greedy weasel about it Random, and I'll do it of course, but whats in it for me? I get a staff I'm sure. Valuable parting gifts? Copy of the home game?”

Random nods, “Of course.. Well, You'll have plenipotentiary powers of course... But there is one other thing. Tell you what, you go get your affairs in order. When you are ready call me.”

Hours pass as Truman gets his traveling kit together. Putting his blade on his belt, and his guitar on his back, he opens a trump to the King.

“Ya, I suppose.” Truman grasps it and steps forward.

Arriving at the flat rock plain, the crooked trees, and the glowing artifact of the Primal Pattern. Dworkin stands at the center of the pattern. Fiona and Gerard look from mouth of the cave leading back to Dworkin's apartments.

“Ah, well, this isn't what I expected.” Truman looks around the stark landscape he has only heard rumors of before.

Random walks to the start of the pattern. Reaching under his tunic, he withdraws the Jewel of Judgment.

“Come ahead. Take this and walk the pattern. When you get there Dworkin will guide you in attuning it."

"Ah, Random, ...You want me attuned to the Jewel of Judgment? Really? I know a few power words but its been years since I toyed with sorcery."

Ranom says, "I know. Im going to have Fiona come to Mandalay on the sly and tutor you on sorcery. I know this is a lot to dump on you but I trust your sense of Duty. And frankly I trust your father's willingness to turn you over his knee if need be. "

"Adrian is attuned to the Jewel, and got it on this pattern as well. Adrian will know how seriously I'm taking the post if I send someone known to be in my inner circle, hell in my garage band, who also has the same attunement he has. Dworkin and I spoke in depth about it and we think that if he offers to let you assay the mark you should, and you have my permission."“

Nodding, overwhelmed, he takes the stone and begins walking, feeling the strain of the effort an octave above his previous passages through the pattern.

Reaching the center, Dworkin takes his hand and the stone. “Concentrate on the stone. Look into it deeply. Transport into the center. I'll follow you in. “

The experience is musical, he feels the glow inscribe itself on his sense of self. Standing in the crimson center Dworkin is suddenly there beside him. The gyrating patterns around him moving like writhing snakes around him. Dworkin reaches out and grasps small broken sections of writhing snakes, drawing them together and passing them through the stunned Truman. Dworkin weaves expertly the writhing strands through the Ambassador to Mandalay. He feels the writhing inscriptions impose themselves on his soul.

Coming to awareness he stands in the center of the patter. Dworkin supports him as he recovers from his weakness. The stone on its chain hangs around Dworkin's neck.

“Go to the Dramaturge. Walk to Mandalay from there. Your patent of appointment is in your satchel.”

Moments pass and the transport completes. The new Ambassador to Mandalay contemplates the changes in his life that a few hours could make.

[[File:D-Random.jpg]]  [[File:T Truman.jpg]]

=== 5270-Jurt Ponders ===

===5271-Musings on Bursain- Vance===

[[File:Vek am.jpg|150 px]]

[[File:Hibbit2.jpg]]  [[File:Lop.jpg]]

'''''"No,I'm not a frigging Hobbit!!!!! "''The nattily dressed boggie yelled.  

Lop's eyes tried to roll upwards and see the inside of his skull. Not for the first time he thought he really should remember to work in his private office.

"You know how many times I have to tell people that, Lop? Every iron-pot blood-mad sword-swinger from ''Tosa'' to ''[[Mac's Bar]]'' to the gates of ''Gazad Dun'' to the friggin' foot of ''Kolvir'' thinks the only tiny folks are those furry footed booze hounds. Frakkin' ale barrels with groggily eyes.  I'm a frikkin' Boggie and I ain't ashamed of it!"

Lop ignored the fact that Hibbit usually drank more then any hobbit he knew, as well as consuming any form of magical or chemical concoction chemists, alchemists, wizards and spice dealers could supply him. He listened to his disreputable old friend on his familiar old rant. That during the rant he and Hibbit both smoked melange cigars to maintain the blue in blue eyes they both were addicted to he knew was high irony.

"It even worse here in Amber you know."

Looking up from his tankard and his paperwork it was like a horse stopping mid stride. This was a new complaint for the rabid little thief.

He mustered his long years of conversational expertise for the perfect rejoinder,  

"Eh?  huh?  ah.. why?"

Hibbit drew his short thin ''bugsticker'' knife and flipped it around his hand as he looked at Lop in surprise. His old friend was staring owlbear eyes at him.

"They don't have hobbits here. ok, four or five, but have you seen any wandering around this fairy tale city?  They have a few of these

'''''Agoliths'''''[[https://wiki.rpg.net/index.php/Races_in_Jeweled_Amber#Agoliths]] around but those aren't hobbits or boggies either.  They are just half sized regular folks.. And the Amberites don't like them much either.[[https://wiki.rpg.net/index.php/Non-Partisan_Anti-Agolith_Association]]  Can you imagine what hobbits in those shadows must be like?  They could wrestle ferrets.  hmmm might be good gold in that."

Walking off a bit and tossing the first of his three knife set. Hitting the center, shivering in point, disappearing a fraction of a second before the next knife arrives to take the same spot. Again, again, again, each knife shivers and disappears.

"So if they don't ask if i'm an Agolith, they ask me if i'm a hobbit then they ask if i'm a famous hobbit?  Apparently there has been a ''Frodo Baggins'' and a ''Samwise Gamgee'' and hobbits named ''Pippin'' and ''Merry'' here before so they ask me if i'm from the Shire? ''"How are things in Gondor?"''', '''"Are you from before the Ring was destroyed of after?"'', ''"Do you know Marke of Beleriand, ya know, Fiona's son?"'' At least on Tosa they had enough Halflings across the land that people would ask if I was a Standback or a Greentree or a Widefoot. Here they ask if i'm Frodo or Bilbo or a damned shaved dwarf. "

Flinging his short sword, when his anger wasn't satisfied by assassin's knives.

Looking up from the a collection of papers Lop sees Hibbit's warblade shivering in the wall as the dart board splits and falls to the ground.

Stepping back, Hibbit clamps his teeth around the red cigar, looking to Lop,

"Ah.. ill get a new dart board...Sorry 'bout that. But this Hobbit crap really pisses me off.. I'm a Boogie!  We come from the Stye. My people crossed the Land of the Knee-Walking Turkeys, through Fordor and Folderol, down the east of the Mealy Mounts, across the Paper Mache Mountains to settle the Stye!  My family has been hunting the Woods of the Tiny Pigs for ten generations!  We have fought in the armies of Gonad against the Roitan and people of the Square Valley Between the Mountains! Our village had a genuine Ballhog skull!  My grandfather sailed the Slime River to the Scum Harbor and to all ports on the Bay of Milhous!  We've been places! We've killed things!  Hell!, Ive eaten a Snickerdoodle after cutting its galumphing head off myself!!  You were there!!  Where the hell have these hobbits been?  Hiding from Big Men?  Sneaking around goblin lairs?  Ok,one stabbed a Nazgul in the back of the knee, I respect that. But the rest of them are famous mostly for sneaking about!"

Not for the first time, Lop wished he had never adventured in the realm of Gonad where he met Hibbit in a nasty little city off the Anacin River, mugging a Lumbar warrior three times his size and half his speed. Taking wallet, watch and a rusty Glock 9 off him without the Lumbar noticing it was a testament to his skill and his level of inebriation. Considering the tendency of Boggie warriors to get taken out by drunk raccoons, Hibbit seemed like the ''Zatonic''[[https://wiki.rpg.net/index.php/Zatonic_the_Large]] of boggies. In retrospect leaving him in his squallid shadow would have been wiser but at the time the group needed a specialist.

Sighing Lop knew he needed to head this rant somewhere safe or at least somewhere else.

"Now Hibbit, You know Amber has a certain draw for Heroes. Hell thats why we are here! If there happens to be a few notable hobbit here you know very well that we brought a huge number of halflings here with CHAD. You've long been accepted as a halfling by the Tosian Halflings. And, not to put too fine a point on it old friend but we have long had the ability to return to the lands of Lower Middle Earth but you never seem to go there.

Taking his tankard and downing the contents, refilling it from the pitcher,he shrugs his shoulders.

"Ya, I know. I know better then to go back now. How you gonna keep a Boggie down in the slime once he's seen New Wall?"

Walking up the stair to his cubicle he tosses the stub of the melange cigar in the hearth.

Lop smiles at his grumpy friend's back as he ascends the stairs. Not for the last time, wishing he hadn't sworn off using violence himself.  Some backs cry out for thrown weapons.

"Twas pity that saved him.  Pity I had no more bullets" Lop chuckled and leaned back to enjoy his cigar.

'''''Bored of the Rings[[https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Bored_of_the_Rings]]'''''

===5280  Truman, Tom, & Bob===

[[File:Tompetty.jpg|150 px]] [[File:Dylan.jpg|150 px]]  [[File:T Truman.jpg|150 px]]

Swinging his guitar behind his back he looked around the growing green land. His decrepitude was gone from his fingers. His blind eye was clear and they focused like they hadn't in 60 years. His muscles felt young and strong and his pace was long. The blue jeans felt familiar but new. A leather jacket over a t-shirt was comfortable and worn in. His hair was lush and running a hand through it he felt that it was wild and unkempt and felt like the lovely locks of his youth. His beard was scruffy but never did grow much better.

Patting his shirt pocket for a pack of cigarettes he found a harmonica. Looking it over it he almost shed a tear because it was the one Pete Seeger gave him at Newport when he had lost his own. The cigarettes were rolled in his shirt sleeve. He should have known. Stopping to light one he swung the guitar around to tune it and strum a bit he found it to be one he had had back in '69 that Morrison had traded him for a bag of reefer.

He figured this must be death, heaven, hell, the summerlands, or some place north of Woodstock, New York. The last thing he remembered was the hospital. Reporters in the hallways and the lobbies, awaiting his death like carrion birds.  Now, he was walking like a young man.  

B12, B12, and Out.  Pennies to pay the ferryman.

Up ahead he saw a straw-topped boy sitting on a rock. He was picking on a Fender Stratocaster of all things. [[File:Tompettystrat.jpg|50 px]]. He seemed to know his way around it well but for the life of him he could not place the face.. He should know it. Thin..In life he must have played with him. Sitting next to him was an acoustic guitar[[https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Gibson_Dove]] he couldn't quite see all of.

Walking up the two met eyes for a moment. The youth looks aside a bit and asks, "I should know you? Shouldn't I?"

The first man nods, " I think so too.. but.. I was in a hospital.. Then.. I was here.  My memory isn't quite clear"

"I was on my bed at home I think. My knees were killing me. I was...going to have surgery... I think I overdosed. Then I was here. My two favorite guitars.. Both out of tune of course.."

Looking up, the boy says, "So we must be dead, and this is the road to hell?"

The first man nods, "I suppose. But I expected more harps or horns. Clouds, maybe a demon or two.."

A voice from beyond them says, "Nope...This is the road to Mandalay. I was asked by the boss there to get you both and bring you in. You were both on the threshold of death and both, in your personal universes, had a total disbelief in an afterlife. That combination often picks icons like yourselves from the vasty of shadow and delivers you here to the Vale of Song. In the infinity of creation there are millions, billions of each of you with variations in each of the worlds. You are only two people in a lot of those worlds where the different distinctions between the worlds had nothing to do with you. You both had long storied careers and your memories will come back soon. But in each of your worlds something different happened."

Pointing to the first man he says, "In your world a bolt of lightning struck a man in Scotland in 1527." Pointing to the kid, "In yours an archer killed knight templar in 1202.  So nothing having to do with you caused splits in the universe.  I know, I know.. its confusing.  But so it goes. You guys were famous and had no expectations of an an afterlife while in billions of worlds you were famous and did have expectations of an afterlife.  Its called the "[[If I'd died without hope of grace clause]].  The boss will explain it, I promise.    I'm just doing him a favor, I don't serve him per se. I'm here to take you to meet him. I promise the beer is cold and the sound is hot. You won't believe the band the man has. "

The scruffy man asks, "Do you have a name or shall I just call you Beelzebub? I'm fairly lost but this doesn't look like Clarksdale, Mississippi."

"Its not, nor am I the devil. Well, not exactly." He says, extending his hand. "I'm Truman of Amber and I'm taking you to meet Adrian of Mandalay."

The kid shakes his hand next, "Tommy Petty."

Nodding, with a smile,knowing them both well in other times and places,  he slings his own guitar around, and strums, starting a familiar tune.  They join in, Dove, Harmonica and Gibson.

"Come along Tom, Bob, I think you are going to like Mandalay. "